Our ’97 Civic Coupe & ’93 Acura Integra – A Family Loss And Car Farewells

’90-’93 Acura Integra photo from the Cohort by William Rubano.

As most of you must have realized, it’s been easy to mark significant events in my life by remembering the cars involved in most of my adventures growing up and growing older. After 72 years my family will attest that I still have a lot of growing up to do, and perhaps I find the cars more memorable than some moments of my life, but often the vehicle of the moment was a costar in the story.

Today’s chapter will cover that special category of the automotive world, that of vehicles I wish I hadn’t sold. Those who have followed this series know that I have a strange romantic nature about cars and gave many of my vehicles names, but I didn’t have any second thoughts when it came time for cars with terminal flaws to go away.

The ‘93 Acura Integra and ‘95 Dodge 4×4 V8 pickup I sold in 2010 were different. They went away to help pay for my son’s funeral when he died suddenly of a pulmonary embolism at the age of 28. He had just earned his PhD in Mathematics at Clemson University and was recovering from knee surgery before going to work as a postdoc at Argonne Labs in Illinois.

Our son would come home every few months, especially for holidays, but he liked it when my wife or I would drive up for the day to spend some one-on-one time with him. Normally when I went to see him I drove the Acura on the back roads between Gainesville, Georgia, and Clemson about an hour of solitary roads with plenty of curves and scenery. Our visits usually ended in a dinner and a movie, but there were the occasional Clemson games –any sport would do for an outing. Or a trip to nearby Lake Hartwell.

Our two daughters were younger, one had taught for a few years before she decided to be a full-time mother, and the other had chosen grad school in public health that took her to DC and foreign countries regularly. We always made sure each one knew we were proud of their choices and accomplishments and made an equal effort to stay connected which meant lots of road trips for my wife and me.

Our fleet of Civics. 

As devastating as the loss of a child can be, life had to be lived and I had to settle his estate. He had a will made when he deployed as a Marine. My wife was the sole heir and I was the executor of his estate which consisted of a student loan, a few credit card bills, and a little cash in the bank which could not be accessed until probate finished which took a year. You never get over the pain of losing a child but you do get used to it.

His ’97 Civic was actually in my name, he had purchased it while in the Marines but needed me to take out the loan so it was titled and registered to me. When he went back to school I took over the payments and gave him the keys to the car. At the time I had three paid for ’97 civics, one for each child to use while they were in school (A chapter already covered).

My two sons in laws got some friends together and moved Michael’s few belongings back to Gainesville and brought the Civic too. I now had five cars in the driveway and two drivers.  I had sold a vehicle before to pay for wedding expenses in 1978, but this was different. I didn’t give up the vehicles to get something I wanted, I sold them because my life had changed. I believe I was in shock and while I didn’t want to sell the Integra and Dodge pickup I needed cash to pay for his funeral.

I also wanted to keep his Civic to help me remember him; just sitting in it reminded me of all the times we had ridden in it or worked on it together. The aroma of his laundry and basketball shoes, the dryer sheets he used for air freshener. This brought back a little of what I felt I had lost when I broke into his apartment and found him alone and cold. Him but not him.

I had no trouble finding buyers for the Integra and truck at a fair price, but still have pictures of them and miss them too. I kept his Civic for two more years and sold it when the car no longer reminded me of him. We still have his Dave Matthews CD with Freefalling he left in the player, but we have to be in a special mood to listen to it.

Photo from the Cohort by William Rubano.

The ‘93 Acura was the most fun and most ”reliable” car I ever owned. It was a 5 speed manual and sat low to the ground, cornered predictably at the fastest illegal speeds I could tolerate. It demanded your engagement and rewarded you with its responsiveness. At 2600 rpm the VTEC kicked in and the car would leap forward as the torquey engine revved up to 3400 rpm. It then accelerated smoothly up over 6000 although I never really found a place where that level of performance would be legal or safe.

On the interstate, it was very easy to find yourself running 100 mph and turning less than 5000 rpm just buzzing along. But that car was not made to run in a straight line at 100 mph, it was on the backroads to Clemson that it really came alive, that I really remembered how much I enjoyed driving back when I was younger and life had not distracted me from the aroma of gasoline, the sound of a roaring intake and rumbling exhaust, the feeling of speed and the illusion of control.

For the five years we owned it I budgeted $1000 a year for maintenance, money that would usually sit unused and turned instead into a new paint job, new stock-size performance tires and rims and an upgraded stereo. I put 60 thousand miles on the Acura going back and forth to work and the occasional visit to Clemson, Athens, or Atlanta to visit the children. No one else in the family wanted to drive it and the few times they had no choice because their cars were in the shop it was a litany of complaints.

One ongoing family joke is that I will drive cars no one else can or will. Over the years I have tried to make sure that my wife and children drove trouble free vehicles so that I didn’t have to worry about them being stranded on the road. I drove whatever POS I could keep running. In high school, I took auto shop at night and my first job I worked in a truck repair shop for three years so I was pretty confident that I could deal with any problems that might pop up on the road.

The Acura was no POS but it was 15 years old when I bought it. It also had 175k miles on it, so it was not perfect. But a 15 year old car that has been maintained is a lot different now than it was when I was growing up. Of course, it benefited from the mild North Georgia climate and had no significant rust. The paint was faded from the sun but that is a lot easier fix than the rotted metal I was used to from 47 years of Central New York winters.

’93 Dodge Dakota image from brochure. 

The ‘94 club cab Dodge Dakota pickup was a real find, with a 5.2 (318 ci) V8, four wheel drive 5 speed manual transmission. I bought it right, from a couple who were leaving the area and didn’t want the hassle or expense of having it shipped across the country. The only money I spent on it besides gas and oil was four new tires. Having a truck is both a blessing and a curse. Once you have it all your friends and family expect you to help them move anything that won’t fit in their car. With three children in early adulthood we were always helping them change apartments as the needs of school and work demanded.

I had arranged to have it painted but put the project on hold after the funeral. While it was not fun to drive like the Acura, it certainly was handy to have. I haven’t seen either of the vehicles since they were sold and often wondered if they survived or were appreciated by their new owners. They certainly got them in better shape than when I bought them and they were obviously cared for when I found them.

…..

I was grateful that both vehicles fell into my lap when I was ready for them and at a price I could afford. While getting another truck was a necessity (now a 2017 Frontier), replacing the Acura is not in the cards now that I am retired. First, I doubt a good condition early 90’s Acura for a few thousand dollars will show up and second I can’t justify a car my wife won’t ride in. There are car shows or cruise-ins almost every weekend in North Georgia but my tastes don’t run to popular models or muscle cars. I appreciate the care and effort I see, but I value too many other things in life now to invest in a car I would spend too much money and time on and miss out on the children and grandchildren.

I had hoped that my car gene would pass to my daughters since I taught them to check fluids and tires and to change flats but they turned those chores over to their husbands. They have little interest in cars other than turning the key. The sons in laws are similarly inclined and very career-focused right now.

But I do have grandsons that will start driving in a few years. I can hope.