Our 2013 Acura TSX Sport Wagon – A Brisk Drive To Commemorate Its Tenth Birthday And To Reflect On Some Recent Lapses Of Judgment

Getting ready to go for a hike in the Cascades this past Wednesday:  Stephanie: Why don’t we take my car for a change? It’s so much nicer than your noisy and rattly old xB. I can’t understand why you never want to drive the TSX? It’s such a fab car.

Me: Why not? Hmm. Maybe because the last time I drove it on a trip I got busted for doing 130? Is it just too tempting to go fast in it? And it’s not at all ideal for driving on rough forest roads. I wouldn’t want to ding it up like I just did to the xB. But come to think of it, the trailhead for Scott Mountain is just off McKenzie Scenic Highway, so yes…why don’t we take it.

There’s some other reasons, but I didn’t feel it was worth bringing them up just then.

Here’s the graphic answer. Let’s just say our respective cars rather reflect our respective body sizes and shapes.

I’m vastly happier climbing into that tall and glassy box;  getting into the TSX feels like I’m strapping myself into an Apollo space capsule or a LeMans racer. It’s just so low in comparison; the windshield swoops right up into my head. I miss that huge air space above and around my head, the lack of a console which gives my legs lots of freedom, and just the vast roominess one has by sitting in a box with vertical windows; never mind the visibility.

The other reason is that I really love driving the xB precisely because it’s not a powerful car with fab handling and grippy fat tires and such.  The xB, especially since I jacked up the suspension, put in softer springs, and with its year-round snow tires, is trying hard (and succeeding) in being the opposite. With half the hp, I have to cane it hard and row the gears, and taking fast curves on pavement evokes the old-school French-car style of cornering: it leans and squeals but it hangs on.

It’s a lot like driving a vintage car; think gen1 VW Golf, with a bigger boxy body. Or with a bit of imagination (which comes very easily to me) a ’60s Alfa Giulia sedan, which also had an upright and narrow body, a high winding little DOHC four and a 5-speed box. And there’s the absolutely superlative visibility. And it nips and tucks in city traffic and can slip into any parking space. And I can haul appliances and my bicycle in the back. And…well, the xB just suits me almost perfectly. And one tends to get a bit attached after almost twenty years, despite certain obvious shortcomings.

But in a long marriage like ours, the best thing often is to just say Yes. And allow oneself to be open, and even surprised, because getting too stuck in a rut can be limiting and possibly dangerous. So I moved the somewhat worn but very comfortable perforated leather seat way back and reclined the seatback some before I folded myself in. It’s not so bad once settled in…just different. Fine for a longer trip but terrible for all the short runs I make all the time to the hardware store, the rentals, and our daily summer evening trips to Mt. Pisgha for a hike and swim. I feel trapped!

We bought this last-year 2013 TSX in March of 2014, and my long writeup of how that all transpired is here. The highlights are: it was Stephanie who came up with the TSX Sports Wagon after having looked and driven a couple of other cars to replace the very tired 2000 Forester. So it really is her car in more ways than one, and maybe that’s another factor.

It only has 92,000 miles as it gets very little use other than Stephanie’s twice annual trips down to Half Moon Bay in the Bay Area and the little runs to the store and such. Since the Promaster van entered our lives in 2018, all of our road trips are in it, for obvious reasons. And the TSX miles have been flawless, without ever seeing the dealer (except for the air bag recall) and a bit of an electrical gremlin.

Starting a couple of years ago, in the rainy season the car alarm would occasionally go off, in the middle of the night, of course. I Googled the issue and bypassed the often faulty hood switch, but to no avail. I took it to a guy who is a car electrical system guru out in an old garage in the country, and he tracked it down to an issue of excessive moisture in the fuse box and/or in one of the microprocessors, which sits down there in the driver’s side footwell. No easy fix, except to set a tiny 7W AC heater in the footwell overnight during the worst of the rainy season. Works like a charm; it’s a plug-in car now.

Otherwise nothing except the usual Niedermeyer minimal maintenance: oil and filter changes, brake pads, new front rotors, and a few sets of tires.

That’s not to say it isn’t showing a few scars after ten years. It sits very low, so parking lot dividers and curbs are a problem. That dent down there on the passenger side air dam appeared one day. Stephanie has no memory of how it happened. It might have been our younger son who helped himself to a few drives while we were out of town. The cut in the bumper cover was from a piece of errant metal that a car in front of Stephanie kicked up on one of her I5 sojourns. It could have been worse.

There’s a black scuff on the sill under the driver’s door; it will not come off with ordinary methods so far. I don’t know its origin either.

Time to start up the 2.4 L classic K24A series four and get to it (I took this picture when it was new). I’m not one of those turbophobes (having bought an early one way back in 1983), but I also very much appreciate the linear power delivery of a really good NA engine, and there’s very few that can top one of these; it’s truly a gem, peak Honda. On this 205 hp high-output Acura version, at its 7000 rpm power peak it swings its four 3.42″ diameter pistons on surprisingly long 3.898″ strokes, but thanks to Honda’s superb engineering and balance shafts, it’s always smooth; one can tell it’s a four, but in a good way. VTEC kicks in at 6000 rpm for the final dash to the (red) finish line, which is when most lesser engines are petering out. The muted shriek it makes between 6000 and 7000 is absolutely delicious; the sound of 400-thread-count sheets being ripped into shreds.

Although peak torque is at a fairly high 4500 rpm, its long stroke makes it responsive down low too; it’s not high strung, until it is. And it’s the last of its kind; a fitting tribute to the art of Honda motor building without the easy turbo Band-Aid.

I’ve almost forgotten what’s it’s like to have such a responsive and willing steed. Why do I not drive this more often indeed? And although all Hondas tend to be a bit noisier than average on the road, it’s vastly quieter than the xB. I did not feel the urge to put on my noise cancelling headphones. Hey, that encourages talking! What a novel concept!

from the web

We are lucky to live so close to mountains, whitewater rivers, the ocean, the high desert…no; actually it wasn’t luck; we decided to move here precisely because of them. In a bit over an hour we can be way up on Cascade trails to remote lakes and peaks. And unlike other places, they’re not overrun with people. Maybe one or two or three other parties on a day’s hike, often none.

Our route is via Hwy 126, which follows the very scenic McKenzie River on its course down from the melting snows of the Cascades. Those are the “Old Cascades” in this picture, which were once young volcanoes many millions of years ago. In much more recent geologic time the Juan de Fuca subduction zone, which creates these volcanoes, moved further east, so those taller younger and sometimes active volcanoes are a bit behind these. This shot was taken before the huge Holiday Farm fire in 2020, and now the views of the river along the highway are much better at the expense of lots of burned trees.

Speaking of the McKenzie River, I need to confess another recent lapse of judgment, a pretty serious one at that. After we arrived here in 1993, almost every summer I would rent a whitewater raft (or two) and took the kids, visiting friends, relatives, tenants, and anyone else ready, willing and (hopefully) able down the classic Middle McKenzie whitewater run (from Finn Rock to Helfrich). This wonderful stretch includes many fun Class II rapids in between serene stretches, the potentially tricky Brown’s Hole, and the grand finale, Marten’s Rapids, a Class III chute that has powerful standing waves, especially when the water flow is high. We always managed to get through it without mishap. That’s just for other folks.

Last summer I treated myself to a nice new inflatable kayak. I took it on the upper McKenzie, which is narrower and faster flowing, and has more but less intense rapids. It was a bracing solo trip, and then I hitchhiked back to my van. So early in August I woke up one morning and decided to do the Middle McKenzie. Tossed the kayak and gear in the van, and off I went. It had been some years since I last did the full stretch including Marten’s. I did make a point to reacquaint myself on YouTube with the proper line through the many big rocks; it’s pretty essential to getting through it.

The water was flowing high (2400 cfs), and the waves were bigger than in this video. And those waves look even much bigger when you’re facing them directly in front of you, just before each one crashes over the boat, and you. It was intense but things were going well, until suddenly they weren’t anymore. I must have hit one of the last narrow standing waves a bit to its side, as in an instant I was suddenly upside down in the water — strapped into my kayak by my thigh straps — going through the lower part of the rapids. Very unexpected, and not at all welcome!

Thigh straps are very helpful in whitewater, to help brace oneself for maximum paddle leverage. There is some controversy about the safety of thigh straps as apparently there have been some bad (fatal) incidents, like the one I could have had here. There are two ways to get out of them quickly in case of a flip: grab the quick release buckles and undo them, or extend the legs straight, which allows them to slide right out from under them.

Did I practice either of those before going down a Class III rapids, solo at that? No. Did I have a helmet on? No. Did I have a buddy along? No.

I had several simultaneous and competing thoughts as I was hanging down there upside down under water: This is not good, especially since I don’t have a helmet on. I need to get out and up into air, but I also need to keep a hold of the paddle and boat, because if I don’t, one or the other or both will go down the river without me and I may never see them again.

This alone is a big reason not to go solo: if you do flip, you can focus on your self-rescue and not worry about the boat and paddle, as the others can grab them.

I couldn’t undo the buckles without letting go of the paddle in one hand and a strap of the boat in the other. Somehow I must have come to the conclusion that I could extricate my legs by extending them, and I finally came up for a very welcome breath of air. I didn’t really panic under water, because I’ve always been good at holding my breath, so I knew I had a good minute or so to figure it out. I’m sure it didn’t take that long. During this whole time I was still bouncing down the lower section of the rapids, so everything was very chaotic; it would have been much easier in calm water. I was mostly glad to finally get my head up to avoid hitting any rocks; that was my biggest concern.

By this time I was out of the main rapids and I kick-paddled myself and the boat and paddled to the shore. Whew! That was intense! And I had a come-to-Jesus moment about my decision to put myself at such risk. This could well have ended badly.

Since this is turning into a long-winded confessional, just two weeks later I got the van stuck on a gravel bar at the edge of the Sixes River near Port Orford. I’d driven on this bar several times before, including in the van, and it was always firm. But as I got closer to the edge of the river, looking for a place for the dog to take a cooling wade after a hike, I suddenly felt the van bog down. Yikes! There was soft mud mixed in with the rocks; it was up into the rims and it would not go, forward or backward. I was only digging myself in deeper.

This is the bar the van was stuck on, looking down from the bank.

My most immediate concern was whether the tide was going out or in, as this is just a bit inland from where the Sixes runs into the ocean at Cape Blanco, and the river level rises and falls with the tides. This is one of our favorite hiking spots out there, for obvious reasons, and it’s unusual to see anyone else there, despite the world-class scenery including seals, osprey, egrets, eagles, hawks, and porcupines.

I pulled out my phone to a tide table app: Whew; it had just been high tide some two hours ago, which of course explained why the bar was still so wet. OK, I don’t need to panic or call 911.

I had seen a red Jeep in the parking area above the bank when we drove down, so I walked up there; of course it was now gone. Then I looked into my cargo hold and realized that I didn’t have my recovery strap (or shovel) with me anyway. I thought of calling my friend in PO to come with his 4WD F150. Oh, right; he’s in the middle of replacing the timing chain in its 3.5 L biturbo EcoBoost V6, which is quite the undertaking, by the way.

Before calling a towing service, I decided to make another attempt, by sticking some driftwood down in front of the wheels. I got in and tried going forward: no luck. I tried reverse again, and… surprise! It moved, albeit very slowly, with the traction control hard at work cutting power to one side than the other. But it kept moving. End of that story.

And in between these two incidents I slid off a forest road and dinged up the xB. Two weeks; three screw-ups. Am I losing my mental faculties? Well, I’m certainly not immune to the effects of aging, but I’m not sure whether that was the primary cause. Perhaps in some part. More likely they were all wake-up calls, to let me know I’m not immortal and need to be more judicious. I’ve been a risk taker all my life, and there have been many rewards as a consequence. But just like in gambling, winning streaks are often followed by losing streaks. And I was having one. I promised myself (and Stephanie) that I would be more careful, to the extent I’m capable of doing so.

an older picture 

Back to driving the TSX: So given my new resolution, I was good and set the cruise control at exactly ten over the limit as we wound our way along the McKenzie River on Hwy 126.

Just past Blue Lake, we pulled off for one of the best driving roads ever: Hwy 242, the McKenzie Scenic Highway, open only in the summer and fall due to huge snows. Here’s a video of the whole drive. It was deserted this weekday morning.

Even though I didn’t go quite as fast as I’ve done before, I did allow myself to enjoy this superb drive in the TSX properly: watch it on Youtube and set it at 1.5 or 1.75 times normal speed, and you’ll get a better idea of that. It’s my favorite stretch of road to drive hereabout.

We pulled off at Scott Lake and headed up the trail. It felt so good being up in the higher elevations; we didn’t get any good mountain hikes in July and early August as it was smoky from fires. Recent rains have dampened them down considerably, and the air was crackling crisp and the sky a deep blue. We grazed on wild huckleberries on the way and stopped at Benson Lake.

By the way, that’s Wanda, our new hiking companion; she belongs to Anna, who lives in the cottage behind our house and has become almost family. She works long days and sometimes out of town, so Wanda stays with us or at least comes on hiking trips, which she loves. She’s a “Bug”, a Pug – Boston Terrier mix, and is bright and energetic.

Scott Mountain has splendid 360 degree views of the old and new Cascades; these are the Three Sisters. As always, iPhones make them look much further away than in real life.

I usually drive faster on the way to a hike and slower coming home. But this time it was the reverse, and it’s partly Stephanie’s fault, who said: The TSX takes curves so well one barely feels them. She said that just before we hit this wider 360 degree turn heading downhill, and to underscore her point, I really pushed it. The TSX stuck like glue, and I said: You mean like this?  Umm…yes!

Without gushing further, yes the TSX is a superb handling car, thanks to Honda’s (no longer used) double wishbone front suspension and multi link rear suspension. With the relatively light four in front and the heavier station wagon rear, it simply does not feel like a FWD car except in very rare cases, and was perfectly neutral in this sweeper taken not far from its limit. I’ve hustled the xB through this many a time, and it squealed and leaned and tended to oversteer, requiring some wheel input. The TSX made it feel so easy: just go! And that’s why I still like the xB: it’s more challenging and entertaining, in a somewhat goofy way.

A little nap on the back deck after a ten mile hike and an invigorating drive was not unwelcome. Actually, I was saying my ten Our Fathers and twenty Hail Marys. Confession is good for the soul.

 

Related CC reading:

Our New (Future) CC: 2013 Acura TSX Sport Wagon – Not An Impulse Buy (For A Change), But An Impulsive 1000 Mile 29 Hour Trip To Bring It Home

Road Trip Journal: Busted – For 130 MPH (60 Over the Limit)

COAL Outtake: So This Is What Honda’s Double Wishbone Suspension Looks Like