Car Talk

I daydream about “accidentally” driving my car into a Monster Truck arena to be mercilessly crushed. Or sawing partway through a limb of the giant oat tree in the yard, parking the car in the driveway and eagerly awaiting a good gust.

Wicked Felina is the name of my 2-door Honda Civic. She’s 7 ½ years old. She has about 112,000 miles on her. We’ve travelled a lot together. She’s been through the hailstorm of the century.  She’s had several factory defects that have tried to kill me. She’s slowly crippling me.

Since moving to Dallas a few months ago, I’ve become intimately familiar with Wicked Felina. She’s always been uncomfortable and loud and the a/c puny, but it wasn’t a big deal when everything was only 20 minutes away.  But, after averaging 2 hours a day driving, little would bring me more joy than pushing her off a cliff and walking away.

Let me preface this by saying, I am so grateful this car starts and runs like a champ. But, let me also say, if that champ is subjecting you to physical abuse, you don’t have to like it no matter how many good things it may do. Seriously, this car is SO UNCOMFORTABLE.  My body hurts all week long, just waiting for the weekend when I don’t have to drive to straighten back out.

By far, the worst feature in this car’s awful design are the headrests. While I am generally mellow, this particular feature enrages me like nothing else I have ever experienced in my life. The headrests are hard as rocks and force your head and neck to sit at the exact angle your p.e. teacher told you to avoid when doing situps.  

*This is not me.

And for that extra touch of absurdity, Honda did not make the head rests adjustable. THANKS HONDA.  On long trips, I have found myself on the verge of rage, trying to force the headrest backwards, to sheer off at the posts, or to simply break my neck so I feel no more irritation. I have developed a wicked pinched nerve in my neck that runs down my shoulder blade and to my elbow. I can only gingerly and decrepitly lift my arm above my head. THANKS HONDA.

I cannot even describe what’s wrong with the ergonomics of the seat top to bottom, but coupled with the headrest, it somehow manages to curl your body into a banana shape. I didn’t have hip problems until I started driving it regularly for long bouts of time, and now, I’m like a 75 year old woman, sore and limping when I get up. THANKS HONDA. The seats sides wrap around to provide commuters’ upper bodies with that nice taco-fold shape, marked by slumped shoulders. It’s as though the seats are trying to collapse your body in on itself to create a black hole. Round out the discomfort trifecta with a peculiarly hard seat, and you’ve got misery in the form of a bucket seat.

Lest you think it’s just me, for I certainly thought it was, I recently googled “Honda Civic uncomfortable” and was awash in complaints of back, neck, and hip pain, one with the same sentiment to roll the car off a cliff, and another with the suggestion that every sale come with a chiropractic referral.

Wicked Felina came equipped with sun visors attached with plastic that wasn’t up to par with summer heat. When it gets hot, the plastic splits and the visors fall down and swing around, blocking your vision or smacking you in the side of the head. Luckily, this surprising event happened to me at a non-critical juncture and did not cause a wreck, but that has not been the case for some unlucky owners. Honda issued a recall (which I, along with many other owners, didn’t receive notice of – even though I get every single one of their crummy birthday cards and ads to buy new cars – THANKS, NO THANKS HONDA), and I had one repaired years ago. The other one recently split, but because the car has over 100,000 miles, Honda won’t repair it (because faulty workmanship is dependent on the mileage of my car? THANKS HONDA). So it remains taped up. Where it will remain until I find a cliff.

I have had several unusual/dangerous/expensive problems with this car early on that consumers are lobbying Honda to rectify because they are very commonly occurring. I mean, I might consider purchasing another one of your cars if it maybe endangers my life. But make it uncomfortable or provide poor customer service, and I’m never buying one again.

I have firmly adhered to the financial school of thought that you drive a car into the ground before buying another. With this car, it’s going to be a race to see who is going to be driven into the ground first – me or it.  The first repair it needs over $500, I’m ditching it and to buy another car. If I am still able-bodied enough.