The Honda Parade, Part 2

Here, now, I'll continue documenting my apparently unending process of buying new cars.  Hopefully, this process results in some self-introspection that makes me understand why I change cars as often as some of you change underwear (you know who you are).  On the other hand, this blog might just be feeding the automobile obsession that turned me into a serial car buyer in the first place.  Let's hope for the best.  




I last posted about the '92 Honda Accord coupe that was my first car after college.  Let's go from there...

Married, employed, and settled in a place we'd call home for a while, my wife and I decided to add a second car to the family.  After fooling around looking at a small pickup (an idea I repressed at that time but would act on years later) we went with what we knew:  Honda.

Specifically, we bought a red 1997 Honda civic HX.  I had no idea at the time that it was a model specifically built for good gas mileage.  (It had an engine tuned for efficiency and was lighter than the regular civic.)  Since gas was still just over a dollar a gallon at the time, I'm not sure that the efficiency would have been the car's selling point.  The lightweight wheels looked cool, and it was a red two-door with a manual transmission.  We bought it in the fall of 1996, and I foolishly failed to notice that it lacked air-conditioning (also in the name of fuel-efficiency).

When, 18 months later, my wife started a job that required a long commute in traffic, the lack of air-conditioning was much more noticeable.  As in, my wife noticed it... when she sat in professional attire, makeup, and hair and then sweated out her 45-minute drive in stand-still summer traffic.

This prompted the purchase of our second Accord.  I traded the civic for a 1998 Accord EX.  

This was a great car, and my wife loved it dearly.  It had a 5-speed manual and (our first) moonroof.   My wife particularly liked the red plastic tail-light covers that made the reverse lights appear pink!

We had this Accord for about two years.  I have no doubt that my wife would have driven it forever, had I not decided to trade it during my second major car-buying-blunder, which I will address in a separate post.  (I'm calling the massive over-paying of my father-in-law's Accord my first.)  For now, I'll just explain that I convinced myself that we should sell both cars and get an SUV so we (now three humans and two dogs) could relocate across the country for a new job.  Idiot.  Out went this Accord, loved by my sweetheart, and my paid-off Accord, to make room for a Toyota 4Runner laden with options.  (Months later, I realized: (1) sharing a car between two working adults is a horrible idea, (2) it's a good idea to get confirmation of a cross-country re-assignment before you make major purchases planned around such a move.  Ultimately, we moved four hours away.)

After fooling around with a stop-gap plan to put us both in wheels, I ultimately reverted back to Honda and traded by 4Runner back for a newer Accord, this time a 2000 EX sedan in red.

Aside from an automatic transmission, this was virtually the same as the purple 1998 Accord I'd gotten rid of only months before.

At this point, I'll fast-forward several years and several cars to our next Honda Accord.  This time, I was the one buying, trading in a horribly-selected used Ford Taurus, which taught me to never buy a former rental car if your wife has allergies and a sensitive nose for smoke.  We lived in a remote area and were in the habit making several long drives as a family, during which my wife would be miserable if we took my car.  I traded the former Hertz hauler for... another Honda Accord.

This was a silver 2005 LX sedan.  It was the only Honda that I've ever felt lacked quality control.  There were several small issues, ranging from rattles to AC and radio problems.

At this point, I think it appropriate that I pause to acknowledge that I am an idiot.  At least, I feel like I'm an idiot when I look back on the series of car's that I've owned.  Oh, sure, if you want to make me feel better you would make some of the arguments that I've used to rationalize all these purchases over the years... like "we'll it's nice to have a new car because it's always under warranty," or "I've never had to buy tires or pay for major maintenance," or even "I really don't spend much more than people who lease cars, when you factor in the costs."  All true... and yet, if I had stuck with even one of these cars, I would have saved thousands.  Tens of thousands, in fact--enough to put Magnum PI's Ferrari in my driveway.

Anyway, the silver 2005 Accord drove great--like any Accord.  What it didn't do well was move three dogs across the country when we relocated a year later.  You see, in one of my less brilliant moves (and you can see by now that this is a very low standard) I decided to adopt a lab puppy to... uh... keep our daughter and other two dogs company...?  

I have no further explanation to give.  I will say that my wife, who had patiently endured by car-shuffling, pointed out that there was no way our two small sedans were going to carry everything we needed for our next cross-country move.

This leads to one of my more bizarre car purchases... the Honda Odyssey.

I bought a red 2006 Odyssey EX.  Yes, it was my car... as in, my wife never drove it--she still had the sedan I bought for her years prior.  And, at the risk of sounding like a soccer mom, let me say that the Odyssey was... awesome.  No.  It was more than awesome.  It was like a frickin' SPACESHIP!

No, really... it had power sliding doors that opened and closed with the touch of a button.  It had rows of seats that flipped and flopped in and out of view and enough seats to shuttle scientists to the ISS.  Scratch that--it was way cooler than the space shuttle.  In fact, it had SECRET COMPARTMENTS IN THE FLOOR.  Now, what other vehicle has that?  (Han Solo knows...)

I rest my case.

Driving the Odyssey also gave me some insight why some EPA fuel-efficiency estimates are more accurate than others.  You know what I'm talking about: ever notice how some cars real-world MPG numbers match up with the window sticker while others don't?  I now know why that is, and I call it the "dude driving a minivan offset" effect.

Here's the deal.  If your vehicle is being driven by its target-market demographic, the EPA numbers should be about right.  On the other hand, if you've got a Honda Odyssey being driven by a thirty-something male, your gas mileage will NEVER come close to the EPA estimate.  At least, that's how it was in my case.  In my own defense, the 244-hp V6 in that Odyssey was quick and smooth, and the vehicle handled surprisingly well.  But ultimately, the blame was all mine, because I drove that thing with a massive inferiority complex (and I assume plenty of dudes driving minivans do the same).  You see, I remembered how I used to pass minivans like they were some road-going obstacles, just put there to be driven around.  When it was me in the minivan, I was damned if I would let that happen.  

It was like Han Solo trying to outrun the Imperials.  "Punch it, Chewie!"

When gas it $4.00 a gallon and I was commuting 60+ miles each day, I decided that there had to be a more efficient way to get me from place to place. Also, I had an extra reason to get rid of the Odyssey: a little incident involving plastic gemstones.  One day our daughter--who absolutely loved the Odyssey--had brought with her a bucket of plastic gemstones.  (I don't know why she had the plastic toy gems that day, but by that point was accustomed to her bringing random things with her whenever we went places.)  Anyway, she left the bucket of little plastic toys pieces in the van where it remained for several days, until one, when approaching a stop I decelerated hard and heard the plastic gems rolling all over the floor... and into the floor vents.  Although I did recover some of them that were caught in the surface, I never retrieved a sizable number that rolled around in the ducts under the floor.  I know this because, from that day forward, I heard them rattling around whenever I accelerated or hit the brakes.  As if being seen driving the minivan wasn't enough!  My time with the Odyssey was over, and I replaced it with (you guessed it) a Honda Accord.

This one, a LX-P sedan (like the image above) in blue (same color as this EX below), was unlike any other Accord I had owned before it.  For one thing, this sedan was HUGE--particularly on the inside.

Granted, each of the successive models I have owned each seemed a little bigger inside, but this one was positively cavernous.

The other thing that was different about this Accord was that it... was... soft.  As in, like a Buick.  Like my father's Mercury Grand Marquis.  Yes, very comfortable.  Yes, nice and quiet.  But not... agile or sporty.  Don't get me wrong--it handled fine.  It just felt like a big, soft sedan.  After driving the Odyssey around like I had just stolen it, I had been looking forward to driving a car that could dance a little.  This Accord was a disappointment in that regard.  (In fact, I think it wasn't any more agile than the 2006 Odyssey!)

One day the driver's side door took a major dent in the local Target parking lot.  And by dent, I don't mean the little dings we all get.  I mean there was a foot-long line creased into the door where some jerk had swung (apparently with full force) their truck, van, or SUV's door.  With that, my time with the Hondas was doomed.  I went down to the local Honda dealership (also the local Subaru dealership) to find out about their body-shop and discovered... Subaru.

More on that later.