1995 Honda Prelude SR-V

In 1995 I decided to purchase a new car. It was the first and, perhaps, my last new car. Allowing someone else to take the depreciation hit seems to be a much wiser method of making money last a bit longer. Plus, the novelty of a new car never lasts long and the first scratches are always the hardest to bear.

When looking to upgrade my Integra, I was wanted to stay within the sporty coupe class. Although I had hoped for a MR2 or RX7, they seemed beyond my reach and not quite fitting for my needs. My choices at the time were:

Acura Integra GS-R – As the Type R had not yet arrived, the GS-R represented the top of the Integra line. Powered by the now infamous B18 VTEC engine, aurally and tactilely it was a joy but it produced less than pleasurable optical signals from both interior and exterior vantage points. The projector headlights looked lost in a sea of polyurethane and the interior, though practical, seemed more dour than needed.

Eagle Talon – Loud, fast, obnoxiously styled – a Camaro for the import crowd. It certainly held a visceral appeal but I wanted to drive the car everyday for years; not driving loaner cars while it was in for repairs (hey, nice Neon!) nor feeling like I was in a red zippered Michael Jackson jacket long past its fleeting moments of trendiness.

Nissan 240SX – Yes to rear wheel drive, a beautiful chassis, and a classic design. No to the truck engine. Without the famed SR20DET under the hood, our S14 was like a good looking girl with a heart condition; promises of excitement but never in the mood.

Toyota Celica GT-S – 130 horsepower?

Then, there was the Honda Prelude SR-V.

This top of the line Prelude was, in my mind, the pinnacle of the now discontinued series. It had the best power to weight ratio, the best styling, the best handling and the most presence on the road. Many might argue that the final version was better but its styling was derivative both inside and out. Nothing in the entire product line showcased Honda’s boldness in the early 1990’s (excepting the NSX) as well as the Prelude and its proclamation of confidence has only been matched in its mainstream cars by the current generation of Civics..

The exterior was a marked departure from the classic shape of the third generation Prelude. Lower, wider, yet shorter than before, this Prelude was radical. The low, wide nose had a narrow band of lights that looked a bit like the second generation Integra but without the blandness. Inboard of the lights were nostrils that allowed more air into the engine bay while a protruding proboscis provided a further element of intimidation. A fourth generation rapidly approaching in your rear view mirror is an impressive sight The hood was wide and smooth with two character lines starting at the nose and spreading across the hood to the base of the radically raked windshield which offered a panoramic view. A short roof quickly became glass again, much like the fastback coupes of the muscle car era. The trunk was short and radically tapered capped by daringly styled triangle shaped lights on either side that mimicked those on the NSX. Even the sides of the car were stylized with a protruding lower portion of the door that precluded the need for side skirts.

Although some may decry the car as a styling gimmick, it stands out among the previous and later generations as the only adventurous Prelude in the marques 22 year and five generation history. In addition, the Prelude’s purity of design can be shown by how good it looks without any add-ons. Except for a de rigueur trunk spoiler, side sills, front splitters, rear diffusers were all absent. Of all the various body kits I have seen, none help improve the look.

Inside the Prelude continued its radical theme. Rather than the standard and staid instrument pod, the dash was spread across the entire cabin. Despite some critics decrying it as more Buicky than sporty, the necessary instrumentation was directly in front. The speedometer and tachometer were easily read and the lack of unnecessary dials added an air of simplicity. The fuel and temperature gauge were located farther to the right. Although not in the direct line of sight, they were big and bright enough to attract attention when needed. The idiot lights were located just below. Again, if something was wrong, you quickly noticed their presence as the previously dark area became alight. In addition, this being a Honda, the only light that ever appeared was the low fuel warning.

Compared to the Integra, you felt like you were in more than a fancy Civic. It worked wonderfully and broadcast to the passenger that this was not a regular Honda. There were a few drawbacks most notably, the lack of storage space. Although somewhat rectified with an interior redesign in 1994, the glovebox was only spacious enough to house my insurance. The manual (useless anyway) stayed at home. The centre console did provide a cup holder (passengers have two free hands!) and a small cubby hole good for a variety of small objects. As I wasn’t someone to carry around a lot of things requiring storage, it suited me fine. The back seats were a joke. I always thought that they should have either saved weight by removing them and locating the engine further back in the chassis (front mid-engine a la S2000) or go very radical by introducing a mid mounted drivers seat flanked by two recessed seats like a McLearen F1. Impractical in reality but sublime in concept.

In 1995 there were two models to choose from. The SR was the base model with a 2.3L 16 valve four cylinder pumping out 160 horsepower. This car was an impressive performer and many were sold especially since it could be optioned with an automatic for the proverbial hairdresser. However, for $3000 more, one could have the SR-V.

First the amount of extra kit you received for $3000 was substantial; the aforementioned rear spoiler ($800 option on the SR), factory leather interior, heated seats and exterior mirrors, and a subwoofer between the rear seats. There was, however, a 0.1L reduction in engine displacement.

This decreased displacement however, was worth every cent of the extra three grand since, lying atop the block, was Honda’s ingenious and drool inducing VTEC head. Pumping out 30 more horsepower despite the smaller displacement, the H22A was a miracle of both smoothness and power. Unlike the smaller but more popular B18 found in the Integra, the big block in the Prelude provided both power and torque. It also had a Jekyll and Hyde personality.

Around town, the engine was flexible, torquey and smooth. It never felt flat footed and it remained the most docile partner. A bit like a poor man’s Lexus SC400. However, when the tachometer crept above 5700 rpm, the monster awoke. With the big cam activated, the power surged, the noise double and the fun factor quadrupled. In wet conditions, traction would be lost when the big cam came on, even in third gear. Taking it up the Cut on Highway 1 in North Vancouver, few cars could keep up especially above 100 km/h. The power kept on coming.

Even now, five years after selling my Prelude, the sound of an H22 transitioning between valve timing sends shivers down my spine. Sounds are notoriously hard to describe but imagine the sound of a regular engine being suddenly replaced by a ripping, low pitched hammering sound.

Performance was credible with 0-60mph time in the mid to high sixes and, due to its exceptional high rpm operation, even more impressive 0-100mph times. Handling was stable and secure with only minor obligatory understeer especially when adding power when rounding wet corners. Unfortunately, it came shod with all season tires which were not in keeping with the cars sporting personality. Although I applaud Honda’s tendency to refrain from specifying larger than necessary tires, fitting all season tires to their second sportiest offering at the time seems like a poor decision. Most owners would gladly purchase a set of dedicated winter tires rather than enduring 4 seasons of compromise. Due to my conservative driving style, the Michelins lasted me the entire 7 years of ownership. I never was able to enjoy the Prelude with the tires it deserved.

Without an LSD and limited grip from the tires, wheel spin in the corners was a problem but torque steer was minimal. The steering felt nicely weighted and accurate. The car had a deliberate solid feel that differed from the light and tossable feeling of the Integra. Normally, I prefer lighter cars but sense of quality between the two was great enough for me to much prefer the Prelude. The clutch was a bit heavy and the shift action deliberate but the short throws and good feel more than compensated.

Compared to the ’89 Integra, the Prelude felt amazingly solid, quiet when driven sedately and much more powerful when the revs climbed. Due to their relative scarcity, most drivers were surprised at its acceleration while merging or sprinting away from a stop light. Although I managed to avoid a ticket through judicious use of the gas pedal and some luck, it was one of the fastest cars on the market.

In the summer of 2002, I was heading to Japan and needed to sell my car. In the 7 years and 80,000km that I had it, I only performed regular maintenance and changed the timing belt. Otherwise, it rode on its original tires and stopped with its original brakes. Although the A/C had stopped working (probably due to lack of use more than anything) and the central locking system was ineffective (see an upcoming blog), nothing had really gone wrong. However, the new owner probably had to replace these soon along with a clutch that was beginning to slip.

Overall, it was a wonderful car. Despite its front wheel drive and cramped cabin, it satisfied me emotionally and its reliability and economy kept money in my pocket. Unlike my Integra, I was certainly sad to see it go and admonished the new owner to look after it and not mod it beyond recognition. .

I hoped that my Prelude was a prelude to an S2000 but that was not to be.