The Honda CRX is a very special, very ordinary car.
For a few short years in this much maligned, but now strangely on-trend eighties, there was a genuinely bulletproof if unglamorous everyday superstar on our streets. They were brilliant to drive, were completely and utterly reliable, and made you feel good when whipping around the city.
Like the previous and subsequent Civic iterations, the Honda runaround may have been sneered up and accused of thin gauge flakiness, especially by the hordes of Teuton-obsessives that pointed at the Golf as a superior breed.
Whether you come down on the side of the CRZ, the VW Golf or the Peugeot 205 as the definitive every man runabout of the eighties depends, really on aesthetic. For us the targa-topped ‘Del Sol’ variants undid the car’s true appeal of brilliantly achieved ordinariness – so we’d prefer a first-gen coupé, please. Like this one.
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