The Ford Explorer was an instant success when Ford rolled it off the line in 1990, but it was the Eddie Bauer Edition that hit the suburbs harder than slap bracelets. The “EB Explorer,” the top of the line Explorer model, achieved legend status quickly, but though legends never die, they do break down. Now, 14 years after the last of the 2010s rolled off the line in Detroit, an era is coming to an end as, one by one, old tanks plastered with OBX, Phish, and “I’m the Mommy, that’s why!” stickers roll to a halt. Searches for EB Explorers are down and used prices are up. What was once a trusted standby has become a collector’s item, a nostalgic nod to when people just wanted to grab a Jansport and go.

The original 1991 Explorer was basically a patrol car built on the Ranger pickup platform and outfitted to accommodate kids rather than criminals. It was rugged verging on goofily rectilinear, but it was also comfortable, which made it the perfect gas guzzler to take advantage of post-Kuwait War oil prices and post-recession incomes. Ford timed the roll out perfectly, but the Explorer’s newness was a liability. Jeep had the Cherokee. Chevy had the Blazer. Toyota had the 4Runner. Unlike these companies, Ford didn’t have much truck with suburban moms.

But Eddie Bauer did.

A Cascadian retort to L.L. Bean, Eddie Bauer was a small retail/mail order business focused on puffy jackets until General Mills bought it in the 1970s and opened stores across the country. From that second get-go, the company was clear on its target consumer, “comfortable in tailored suits during the week and chino pants on weekends” as the NYT characterized it in 1981. Hiking. Skiing. Mountain biking. Golden retrieving. Eddie Bauer chose its lane smartly then went SKU-mad. Jackets and chinos became jackets and chinos and  furniture and tableware and, via licensing agreements, bicycles and eyeglasses and finally cars. 

The EB Explorer was not the first apparel x car brand collab. AMC did a Levi’s Gremlin in the 1970s and Mercury aped Ford with a Nautica Villager minivan. But the EB Explorer worked because the SUV provided the lifestyle brand with a hero product and the lifestyle brand provided the SUV with an implied destination (out of town). It was also a good looking car with a two-tone paint job that made it clear who had paid extra for the leather interior. It won Motor Trend's Truck of the Year Award in 1991 and arrived, serendipitously, at the beginning of a decade of heavier snowfall. In 1993, it co-starred in Jurassic Park with a weirdly young Laura Dern, whose outfit perfectly encapsulated the era’s aesthetic.

But what made the EB Explorer singular was that it was not a commuter car. It was a weekend car. If all cars are avatars for their drivers, this one strongly suggested a reordering of personal priorities. Leisure defined identity. And leisure didn’t mean laying around eating bonbons. Long before wearing leggings became acceptable in any and all circumstances, the EB Explorer brought an athleisure sensibility to the road.

It’s hard not to be sentimental for a period of American prosperity characterized by Hi-Tec boots and pleated shorts (both of which are coming back), which is presumably why EB Explorers with low mileage still sell for $30-$40K. The EB Explorer is now to the suburbs what a golf ball-pockmarked Mercedes SL600 Class is to Martha’s Vineyard: a way of signaling OG status. But there aren’t too many left. The leisure SUV is all but dead. And that says something – perhaps something a bit disturbing – about what the suburbs have become.