When a friend observed my driving skills in a 1983 Dodge 400 convertible with its 4-cylinder fuel-injected Mitsubishi engine, he insisted that I buy a Prelude. "It's the closest feeling to flying a jet flighter off an aircraft carrier that you will ever experience." He made me promise to take the car only to a certified Honda dealer for service. (No, Honda is not paying me - my husband almost divorced me for keeping my promise!)
I purchased the car in September 1991 with 12 miles on it and have put on most of its 177,146 that it now sports. The car drives like the wind, holds the road like glue, and renders other cars unsafe to drive because the Prelude's responsiveness is so outstanding that I expect the same in any vehicle. Like CocaCola's decision in the 1980's to change its formula, Honda lost its mind discontinuing this model. I regularly achieve 29 mpg, but can nurse it to 31 or 32 mpg if I keep the tach around the 3 (whatever that means).
Growing up I aspired to be Mrs. Emma Peel on the Avengers, including driving her car. For those of you old enough to remember the series, take a look at the attached photos. Goal!
Finally, this past spring a young man asked if the car fell into the "sports car" category for insurance and personal property tax purposes. I honestly responded, "no, it has a backseat." After admiring the car, he asked me what I'd take for it. I laughed, responding, "If someone offered me $10,000, I'd cry." He countered dead seriously, "But, would you take $10,000?" I thought about it. What could replace my Prelude? It has had every service at "my" Honda dealer (by now we know each other well), the car is on its 3rd timing belt because I'd rather be safe than sorry, it has been garaged most of its life, and a replacement (the G-35?) would cost $40,000 fully equipped with taxes, etc. I looked at the fine young man, and indicated, "no, I won't entertain an offer of $10,000."
My Honda. What an investment.