Chad A. Taylor
February 13, 1958 — March 5, 2025
Mt. Pleasant
Chad A Taylor, 67, passed peacefully in his sleep, dreaming (we are sure) sweet dreams of driving up the canyon to see the new snowfall and test how far into said new snow they could make it.
Born to Carlene and RL Taylor, he grew up in Salt Lake and spent summers in Sanpete, on his grandparent's farm. He spoke fondly of those halcyon summer days in the fields with his beloved grandpa Carl (his son's namesake). Years later, when an opportunity presented itself to move his young family to Mount Pleasant, he jumped at the chance to raise his daughter Stefanie, and son Carl, along with his wife, Jeannette in "God's country".
He prided himself on his mastery of the German language, learning it for the mission he served in southern Germany and Switzerland. He met his beautiful wife on the last day of his mission- they talked so long they missed the last train and continued their conversation in the park until the sun rose. Their conversation never stopped. He found he could not live without her, nor she him. They were married in the Manti temple.
Everything about him was big - he commanded a room with his presence, opinions, and deep resonant voice. He wrote letters to the editors and later took to facebook, always advocating for what he felt was right.
Coming from an industrious, crafty family, he followed suit but not their footsteps, preferring to blaze his own trail. He created his entire life. First drawing, leather tooling, even crafting several copper artworks. Soon he transitioned to what would occupy the remainder of his life: vintage cars, trucks, then jeeps.
A talented metal fabricator, his creations were extremely well built and unique. For a time he'd taken the chassis of an old school bus, and kept the front section over the motor and used it as a flatbed to haul three Jeeps to Moab. He painted "Moab or bust" along the sides. (He did not bust).
He partially raised his family in Moab - the annual pilgrimage made in the name of enjoying the beauty of the land and testing the mettle of what he'd been working on all year. His wife, Jeannette, was always a good sport, along for nearly every ride; once exclaiming "You rolled without me?!" when he rolled his then jeep, a Commando, on the Hanging Tree Trail.
He prided himself on how well his kids could drive, telling anyone and everyone how his daughter walked right up Rocker Knocker, drove The Pickle, Double Whammy.
Always willing to help out on trail breaks, he was found welding on complete strangers' vehicles so they could "limp off the trail." Necessity is the mother of invention, they say, and some of the trail fixes were rather ingenious. He'd assure new drivers and old alike: "We may eat our young, but we bring out our dead". No one was ever left to figure out how to get off the trail on their own.
Encouraging as well, he'd always tell reticent drivers " Put a tire on it" It's surprising how many climbed the obstacle, just for trying.
A lifetime unique vehicle aficionado, he sought out any and all of the interesting, obscure vehicles and he bought as many as he could get his hands on. From muscle cars, 50s split window pickups, to any type of Jeep - especially military - to an old military half-track. His latest acquisition was a 60's snow cat
He lived life on his own terms, allowing only his morals to guide him. His mom often said "You could hit him over the head with a 2x4 and he still wouldn't budge if he didn't think it was wrong".
We'll miss his large presence in our lives, miss trailriding, the jaunts up the canyon. He is survived by his wife Jeannette, children: Carl, his wife Chelsey, and son Wyatt; and daughter Stefanie.
There will be a celebration of life March 15th at the Community Center at 101 E 100 N, in Mount Pleasant at 1:00 p.m. Online condolences at rasmussenmortuary.com
Born to Carlene and RL Taylor, he grew up in Salt Lake and spent summers in Sanpete, on his grandparent's farm. He spoke fondly of those halcyon summer days in the fields with his beloved grandpa Carl (his son's namesake). Years later, when an opportunity presented itself to move his young family to Mount Pleasant, he jumped at the chance to raise his daughter Stefanie, and son Carl, along with his wife, Jeannette in "God's country".
He prided himself on his mastery of the German language, learning it for the mission he served in southern Germany and Switzerland. He met his beautiful wife on the last day of his mission- they talked so long they missed the last train and continued their conversation in the park until the sun rose. Their conversation never stopped. He found he could not live without her, nor she him. They were married in the Manti temple.
Everything about him was big - he commanded a room with his presence, opinions, and deep resonant voice. He wrote letters to the editors and later took to facebook, always advocating for what he felt was right.
Coming from an industrious, crafty family, he followed suit but not their footsteps, preferring to blaze his own trail. He created his entire life. First drawing, leather tooling, even crafting several copper artworks. Soon he transitioned to what would occupy the remainder of his life: vintage cars, trucks, then jeeps.
A talented metal fabricator, his creations were extremely well built and unique. For a time he'd taken the chassis of an old school bus, and kept the front section over the motor and used it as a flatbed to haul three Jeeps to Moab. He painted "Moab or bust" along the sides. (He did not bust).
He partially raised his family in Moab - the annual pilgrimage made in the name of enjoying the beauty of the land and testing the mettle of what he'd been working on all year. His wife, Jeannette, was always a good sport, along for nearly every ride; once exclaiming "You rolled without me?!" when he rolled his then jeep, a Commando, on the Hanging Tree Trail.
He prided himself on how well his kids could drive, telling anyone and everyone how his daughter walked right up Rocker Knocker, drove The Pickle, Double Whammy.
Always willing to help out on trail breaks, he was found welding on complete strangers' vehicles so they could "limp off the trail." Necessity is the mother of invention, they say, and some of the trail fixes were rather ingenious. He'd assure new drivers and old alike: "We may eat our young, but we bring out our dead". No one was ever left to figure out how to get off the trail on their own.
Encouraging as well, he'd always tell reticent drivers " Put a tire on it" It's surprising how many climbed the obstacle, just for trying.
A lifetime unique vehicle aficionado, he sought out any and all of the interesting, obscure vehicles and he bought as many as he could get his hands on. From muscle cars, 50s split window pickups, to any type of Jeep - especially military - to an old military half-track. His latest acquisition was a 60's snow cat
He lived life on his own terms, allowing only his morals to guide him. His mom often said "You could hit him over the head with a 2x4 and he still wouldn't budge if he didn't think it was wrong".
We'll miss his large presence in our lives, miss trailriding, the jaunts up the canyon. He is survived by his wife Jeannette, children: Carl, his wife Chelsey, and son Wyatt; and daughter Stefanie.
There will be a celebration of life March 15th at the Community Center at 101 E 100 N, in Mount Pleasant at 1:00 p.m. Online condolences at rasmussenmortuary.com
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