• Suspension and braking: $4,000
• High-end wheels and tires: $3,500
• K swap, all of its necessities, bolt-ons, and ECU: $10,000+
• Seats, rollbar, and other interior bits: $5,000+

Here we are on the cusp of 2013, and a preemptive evolution of Honda’s ninth-generation Civic is already upon us—a whole year or two early if we’re to consider Civics of the past. Blame the journalists and the enthusiasts for the premature makeover, though—neither of whom are likely to buy Honda’s ninth-generation subcompact in large numbers, even after its face-lift. The automotive press, curiously and in a contradictory sort of way, lambasted the 2012 for being too much like the ’06–’11 body style, a car that they’ve, by and large, proclaimed to be Honda’s best Civic ever. Enthusiasts derided the ninth-gen for its husky size and environmentally friendly version of Honda’s otherwise well-received K-series engine, neither of which, incidentally, the company’s 2013 refresh addresses. No, the updated model’s supposed saviors are an overhauled front grille, new taillights and bumpers, a reshaped trunk, and a spiffed-up interior. To satiate enthusiasts who likely won’t buy the Civic anyway because of the Si’s Accord-like, single-exhaust-port 2.4L engine that features VTEC on only half its valvetrain, the subcompact’s suspension was stiffened a smidge and its steering tightened up. Noble efforts, all of them, but a far cry from Honda’s Si of years past.

Fifty-three years ago, American Honda Motor Company opened up shop in a small, unassuming building on Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles. Starting life as a motorcycle dealer, Honda grew and remains relevant today because of its commitment to producing cars that, decades later, still matter. The following are perhaps the most poignant, most important cars that Honda's ever released on North American shores. While none will likely ever share space at Pebble Beach's Concours d'Elegance or roll along the auction block at Barrett-Jackson, each played its part in defining the Honda brand as we know it today.

It can be the most annoying thing in the world. Constantly nagging, oftentimes infuriating, and always circling overhead like a pesky mosquito; patience is one of the emotions that Ive struggled with in my adult life. Not pointing any fingers, but drivers in Orange County might have had a direct effect on that. In stark contrast, I can distinctly remember being praised for my patience as a youngster in elementary school--my fourth grade teacher handing me an award for Outstanding Patience and Understanding.

Some 70 years ago, lurking in the shadows of downtown Los Angeles in the small satellite of Japantown, second-generation Japanese Americans—otherwise known as Nisei—gave birth to the Nisei Week Japanese Festival, an event its founders hoped would help celebrate Japanese culture in America. Sixty years later, Ken Miyoshi’s Mainstream Productions partnered with Nisei Week organizers, creating what is arguably the West Coast’s most revered Japanese car show.

The conversation started off friendly enough, but like so many others, led to personal attacks and “all caps” keyboard pounding in the blink of an eye. The subject at hand had to do with a feature story that had run a few months prior. The reader had contacted me via email to explain that the info listed in the spec list, specifically the exterior section, was inaccurate. Here’s a piece of the original email:

No offense

Earlier this year I got behind the wheel of Subaru’s new BRZ. You know, the 200hp, RWD coupe that the automotive media won’t stop pining over. I wanted to hate it. Or at least not care about it. After driving it though, I really couldn’t.

Trends change, but one thing’s for certain: Every generation’s got at least a few they’d rather forget about. It’s easy to poke fun at some of today’s automotive fads. The bike-less bike racks, the sticker-bombed body bits, the useless wheel and tire configurations—sometimes it’s just too easy. But that doesn’t mean my generation doesn’t have its own embarrassing past. Here are the 15 most ridiculous things we used to do to our cars.

Throwback Thursday - it’s all the rage right now. Each and every week, companies, bloggers, and enthusiasts take to their respective Facebook pages and post photos of old cars from various track and show events. Although it has become somewhat cliché, I must admit, seeing some of the old cars that I used to drool over as a youngster is pretty cool. Back then, catching a glimpse of these cars in person, in a magazine (rarely), or flipping through a friend’s picture book (real pictures! Not even Photoshop-enhanced or anything ;) ) was always inspiring.

By the early 1990s, Honda-dominant Southern California street racing had begun to hit its stride. On any given night, hundreds of cars would migrate upon the industrial parks of Ontario, Long Beach, Compton, Sylmar, San Diego, and other locales. They came to race…because there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. Increased law enforcement along with legitimate venues directed at the import car population resulted in decreased street racing activity. But obliterate it, they did not.

Subies and Evos are awesome. Yeah, I said it, and I’m not taking it back. You can argue with me until you’re blue in the face, but all-wheel drive, a snarling turbo, aggressive styling, and an incredible aftermarket support system all rolled into a warranty-clad chassis is awesome. It’s as if Subaru and Mitsubishi went to a massive Internet automotive forum and said, “Hey guys, post up what you want in a car, and we’ll make it for you.” A far cry from the offerings you’ll currently find in a Honda showroom at your local dealership. Now before you occupy the streets surrounding the Honda Tuning office, I haven’t switched sides, nor have I lost my mind. I’m not going to trade in any of my beloved Hondas for one of “those.” I admire a number of different cars from import to domestic, old and new, but the reason I’m still motivated and drawn to Hondas today is the same reason I was enamored with them years ago—simplicity and results.

What I wanted from my ’87 CRX Si was hardly complicated. It needed to make more power than my previous car—a ’78 Toyota Celica—and it needed to handle better than the first car I’d ever driven—a late-’80s minivan. What it did not need to do, however, was to remain street-legal, to ride smoothly, to have any semblance of a color-coordinated engine bay, or to achieve any sort of government-affirmed environmental watchdog’s pat on the back. I wasn’t the only simpleton with such uncomplicated aspirations, either. Honda fans of the ’80s and ’90s cared about going fast. Technicalities like road-unworthiness or compromised creature comforts were but afterthoughts.

Springs. Intake. Exhaust. Header. Those four words, in that exact order, incessantly pounded into my mind for more years than I care to remember. Like a sacred oath, the order by which a car was assembled rested strictly upon this bevy of basic modifications. Veering away from the magic formula was thought to be taboo among the small group who unknowingly became my mentors as I entered the automotive enthusiast circle. Before the Internet boom, before my first project car, hell, before I had a license, I learned about this pattern of upgrades through an enormous number of hours listening to “garage talk” rather than doing much talking. When the time finally came, after putting in far too many hours at a local fast-food joint during my last few years of high school, I bought my first new (to me) Honda—a ’91 CRX Si, bright red with a clean title and absolutely no modifications. Purchased at a Mitsubishi dealership after a few hours of negotiating and deflecting all attempts to sell me on a non-turbo Eclipse, it was without a doubt the happiest automotive experience of my entire life.

I don’t like yogurt. Never have. But it turns out that all of those people who do like yogurt really don’t care. Despite whatever decidedly tempting flavor combinations or gimmicks the yogurt companies come up with, I still don’t like it. It also turns out that yogurt eaters, by and large, are a reasonable bunch. Upon hearing my dislike for their bacterial fermentation of cream, they didn’t take to the yogurt-lover forums to express their disapproval of me. They didn’t attempt to pool their resources with those from adjacent dairy product message boards in an effort to shame me. No, as it turns out, people who eat yogurt are a pretty rational bunch.

The story of the foreigner with almost no money and only minor English-speaking skills armed with nothing more than a dream and an undying vision of success on U.S. soil isn’t anything new. Some of today’s largest, multi-million-dollar companies started off as nothing more than a raggedy hot dog stand on a street corner, its owner struggling for every cent. It’s one of our country’s biggest draws, and the stories, if nothing else, offer some serious inspiration for those hoping to make it big in America. In the automotive bubble, there are those who have already been there and done that, those who are working hard to establish themselves, and those who might take advantage of those who don’t research.

Honda’s single-overhead-cam engine just might be more revolutionary than you think. In 1984, Honda Motor Company launched NCE (New Concept Engine), a program that resulted in the modern-day single-cam D-series engine and ultimately led to such technology as VTEC and 100-horsepower-per-liter-capable rotating assemblies. And when Honda released the first of its D-series lineup alongside its third-generation Civic, it did so to the beat of its own drum. The absence of a second cam allowed for more space and a unique rocker arm assembly. Because of this, and unlike other automakers’ twin-cam engines, Honda’s later SOHC D series was among the first to feature four-valve, pent-roof combustion chambers and centrally located spark plugs that together allowed for greater combustion efficiency and more power.

After two untimely engine disasters—a bunk electrical system that allows my right rear turn signal to work only when my headlights are on and my foot’s off the brake; a rear hatch that opens not with key or by latch but with wire cutters—and a temperamental A/C system that blows cold according to its own schedule, my ’89 Civic Wagon and I have amicably parted ways. Its replacement: a 2011 Fit Sport. But why the Fit? After all, a perfectly good NSX rests comfortably inside of my garage collecting cobwebs that, as far as my wife is concerned, would make for a fine commuter. Perhaps it would, were it not for its mediocre fuel consumption, its missing rear seats, and a trunk that leaves room for little more than a sack lunch. After racking more than 9,000 miles onto the Fit’s odometer, I’ve drawn several conclusions about the car—some good, some bad.

Americans are lazy. It’s been studied, theorized, put into second-grade-level pie charts with pretty colors, and there’s really no disputing it. We’re lazy. Technology and lightning-fast progression have served as both a blessing and a curse as our society seems to lean more toward couch potato TV and video game marathons, rather than fresh air and actual physical movement.

Hey HT, I’ve been subscribing for years now, and I continue to love the evolution of the magazine. You guys are doing a great job. I’ve recently acquired a ’90 Civic STD. I love the car but am really struggling with the 70hp. I am working on getting the car swapped over to MPFI and a five-speed Si tranny. I’ve been searching all over for information on doing a mini-me swap but have only found conflicting information. Is it possible to do a mini-me swap on a D15B1 motor? If so, what issues will I be facing that will need to be addressed? Thank you for your insight.
Ben

Bad cars are inevitable. Bad cars are necessary. If it weren’t for bad cars, then the good ones might not seem so good. Besides, counting down the list of Honda’s all-time best would be entirely too easy, not to mention entirely too labored a list. Consider these not so much the worst but perhaps the worst of the not-so-great. Some were underpowered. Some lacked proper styling. Some were engineering oddities. Either way, behold, the following are what may well be the 10 worst Hondas of all time, in no particular order.

“My two-liter soda bottle has more torque than your B16” —Internet cool guy
Power-to-weight ratio—arguably the most important aspect of building and tuning a Honda for competition. Long known for placing large, tame motorcycle engines under the hood, what Honda lacks in the area of torque, it more than makes up for in the P:W department. That’s probably why this is typically the first tool used in an argument with the anti-Honda crowd in terms of power and performance.

Although Honda has built a reputation for quality and dependability by paying close attention to their processes and setting goals for excellence, they could improve their manufacturing process even further by implementing Six Sigma methodology.

American Honda, in association with its racing division, HPD (Honda Performance Development), announced last November that its ninth-generation Civic would be available to licensed racing teams in the car’s purest form—body-in-white. Despite the announcement made at last year’s annual SEMA gathering that put Honda fans into a frenzy and had the forums buzzing with predictable speculation, Honda began quietly selling its no-nonsense, race-only Civic last summer, with a number of approved racing teams already having taken delivery as early as July.

Ahhh, the great debate: boost versus NA. In the Honda world, it has been “discussed” over and over again. And while the horse carcass has been thoroughly beaten enough times to serve as a stunt double for a zombie killing on The Walking Dead, the war rages on.