"Club Civic, Gather 'Round for Car Tales! Share Your Most Memorable Automotive Story."


New Member
Alright, here's my car story:
Back when I was a junior in high school (Go Mustangs!), about four years before I really got into cars, I had just gotten my driver's license. I had been dreaming about what car I was going to get to drive. Out of all the cars we had, I got stuck with the worst of the lot. My parents said they were sticking me with an Acura sedan (can't even remember the make or model), but I ended up with a 2000 Honda Odyssey with a broken sliding door and over 200,000 miles on it. At the time, it felt like the end of the world.
I warmed up to it over time, though. I mean, despite the lack of heating, electrical problems, dents, torn seats, and its uncanny ability to sabotage my chances with the ladies, it turned out to be the ideal vehicle for weekends with the guys. You didn't care about getting the seats dirty because they were practically falling apart, you didn't care about how slow it was because of the amazing aftermarket stereo system (I guess it was aftermarket because none of the other Odysseys could even compare), and you didn't care about the right door constantly jamming because it turned into a game of who could close it manually the fastest. We affectionately called it the SS Ladmobile because it could carry the entire crew and turned like a cruise liner.
Now, the reason I'm highlighting all these quirks is because of a moment that cemented my bond with that car. If I hadn't had a good relationship with it by then, this incident might have been my undoing.
It was a snowy winter night in December as I was driving up the highway to visit my mom. Road conditions were terrible, but I was managing. Ice patches everywhere, visibility down to 50 feet, and not a soul on the road except for me. As I neared my off-ramp to get onto the back roads for the last leg of my journey, I spotted what I thought were two oddly placed street lamps (the kind that sit lower to the ground). I'd only ever seen them on that off-ramp, so I took them as a sign of security. Wrong. The off-ramp was still half a mile away. Those weren't street lamps; they were the headlights of a very confused elderly driver speeding down the wrong side of the highway, something I'd only heard of in horror stories from other drivers.
I was going about 60-70 MPH, and he was likely closer to 90 MPH. As soon as I realized what was happening, my brain went into autopilot, and I did something bizarre. I yanked the wheel hard to the left and pulled the handbrake. The car didn't change course because of the old guy, but this behemoth of a minivan, the SS Ladmobile, swerved right past him as if it was nothing. Yes, I drifted a minivan that night. Godspeed, SS Ladmobile. Godspeed.
As an addendum, about two months later, the SS Ladmobile was totaled when some jackass in a Dodge Challenger darted out of a turn at a red light in front of me. Never underestimate the power of a 3.5-liter V6. And that's how I got my first and current Civic, which I have yet to name. If any of you have a good idea for a name, feel free to drop it in your post. I'll be checking regularly, and I'll announce the chosen name soon."


5+ Year Member
Post some pics of the Civic. It will help to inspire a name.