Once upon a time, there were Honda Civics…
there was a time when Honda was on fire, and could do (almost) no wrong. The gen 1 Civic was like a little cherry bomb lobbed into a Weight-Watcher’s convention… And this gen2 Civic was huge step forward; now instead of wearing a Civic like a badge of honor, one could now actually step into it and think of it as a legitimate car.
La la la. The ennui is strong in these. ”Who gives a fuck” is not too strong. But, its fall of 1983. Disco is dead, new wave is almost a thing. I’m leaving Jody #2‘s place after my made up excuse to drop by and eat her food but not have sex (still a little mindfucked from the previous few months) wore thin.
At the bottom of the steps to her place is one of these things, fresh off the boat…
What the fuck? Did France take over Honda design? It’s low and wide like a sports car. It may or may not be a hatchback – there’s just a big back window. To my 1983 eyes, it is in no way a 40mpg commuter shitbox – it is some sort of alienware.
The nose is completely ass backwards. Where is the grill? How does this fish even breathe? To put it in contemporary terms, it’s like Lady Gaga showed up at a Toby Keith concert. What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-?
The moral of the story: I should have fucked the girl while I had the chance, of course. That’s always the moral.