Jim Wyckoff on the Markets

Meet Jim Wyckoff

My wife, Laurie, and I stop for a photo shoot while jeeping high in the mountains of Colorado. The views above 10,000 feet are panoramic and fantastic — and most of the population is well below, so crowds aren't a problem.

I'm taking a break in my Jeep while the rest of my family explores a ghost town in the Colorado mountains. In the higher elevations where the air is so dry, wood doesn't rot. Thus, many old ghost towns are very well preserved and look like they did 100 years ago.

We are high in the Colorado Rockies taking a break from four-wheeling on the mountain trails. My daughter, Katie, is the one in the bib overalls. That's my blue Jeep in the middle.

My family and my wife Laurie's extended family all pose for a "Kodak moment" on top of my Jeep. Again, we are high in the Colorado Rockies. If you have never been there, I highly recommend it. You may never want to leave!

Taking a break along a jeep trail in Colorado. I'm wearing the hat I bought in New York City--the one my wife and children were embarrassed about me wearing in downtown New York--but I wore it anyway!

This photo gives a good perspective on the steepness of the jeep trails and how rocky they can be. It's kind of scary all the way up there in the mountains, with those steep drop-offs below — but that's what makes four-wheeling so fun!

This is my pride and joy: my Pontiac Trans Am--the last of the true American "muscle" cars. I spent over four years rebuilding the engine and doing all the body and interior work. The only problem was that for all that time the car took up all the space in my garage--and my wife had to park her car outside during some brutal Iowa winters. I had to scrape the frost and snow off her windows many a morning. But it was worth it. My dad and I took the Trans Am on a "road trip" to California a few years ago, and we had a great time. One evening about a week into the trip, Dad asked me if I could please slow down just a bit out on the highway. My foot had been a bit heavy on the accelerator. Well, the very next morning we were going through Wyoming and I had indeed backed off the pedal by about 15 MPH. Wouldn't you know, that's when I got stopped for speeding! I won't tell you how fast I was going before I slowed down. (At the time there was no speed limit in Montana.)