My 1982 Honda Civic sedan is long gone, a distant memory in the rearview mirror of my automotive history. In fact, most Japanese cars from that era, pre-1990, have vanished from the roads of Pennsylvania, a state with a deep-rooted love for domestic steel. This Civic was my first car, a stepping stone six daily drivers ago, yet its impact remains indelible. It’s surprising how memorable this seemingly ordinary car became, especially considering I acquired it at the tender age of fifteen and, in my youthful exuberance, even pitted it against a Trans Am.
Front view of a modified 1982 Honda Civic with a black hood, showcasing its boxy design and metallic blue paint.
The photo above captures my “Little Blue” as I remember it, on its last day with me in 1997. It sported a blacked-out “Mach 1” style hood and a medium metallic blue respray, courtesy of a vocational-technical school in Philadelphia, reminiscent of an Earl Scheib budget paint job. The hood, scavenged from a brown donor car, was coated in primer black but never quite matched the rest of the body. While it doesn’t look too bad in these pictures, rust was steadily consuming the frame rails and fender bottoms. It was also due for a carburetor rebuild.
Despite clocking 245,000 miles, my trusty Civic still had life left. Its new owner added another 30,000 miles before passing it on to his daughter, who, unfortunately, brought its journey to an abrupt end by totaling it. On that day in 1997, I traded “Little Blue” for a ’95 Thunderbird, a vehicle drastically different in both style and purpose, marking a significant shift in my automotive preferences.
For many, a 1982 Civic is just another disposable 1980s appliance, easily forgotten and rarely missed. It’s not the kind of car that typically undergoes restoration or preservation. You won’t find legions of enthusiasts dedicated to modifying or showcasing its originality. There are no dedicated classic Honda weekends at major car shows. I’ve never spotted one at prestigious auctions, and I’m quite sure no ’82 Civic has ever graced the manicured lawns of Pebble Beach – unless it was there with the groundskeeping crew.
Side profile of a blue 1982 Honda Civic sedan highlighting its compact size and simple lines.
My father initially acquired what would become my beloved first car as his commuter vehicle. The previous owner, a family friend, was trading in her cherished Civic, affectionately nicknamed “Little Blue,” for a new Honda Accord. My dad, facing a significant daily commute, was looking to reduce the mileage burden on our family’s Pontiac 6000 wagon. The Civic, with its impressive EPA fuel economy estimates of 34 mpg city and 47 mpg highway, must have seemed incredibly appealing. Within a week of learning about the Civic’s availability, my dad secured a home equity loan, paid the $3,000 asking price, and brought “Little Blue” home.
Interior view of a similar era Honda Civic showcasing the two-tone blue interior and functional dashboard design.
When it joined our family, “Little Blue” still wore its original Avignon blue metallic paint, complemented by black trim and the then-mandated black plastic bumper “battering rams”. The interior featured a two-tone blue scheme, similar to the car pictured above, embodying the typical aesthetics of early 80s Japanese economy cars. These Civics boasted innovative features rarely found in domestic economy cars of the time, such as a tachometer (even in the automatic version), intermittent windshield wipers, a remote trunk release, a digital clock that actually functioned reliably for years, and various handy storage compartments, including a coin holder – thoughtful touches that set it apart.
Brochure image of the 1982 Honda Civic lineup, showing hatchback, wagon and sedan body styles.
The second generation Honda Civic debuted in 1980, continuing with the popular hatchback, and adding a station wagon to the lineup. 1981 marked a significant milestone with the introduction of a traditional three-box 4-door sedan for the first time in the Civic’s history. These models were the first Civics to offer an optional 3-speed automatic transaxle, replacing the older Hondamatic two-speed.
Of course, manual transmissions were also available and more common, in both 4-speed and 5-speed configurations. However, the 3-speed automatic and the sedan body style broadened the Civic’s appeal, attracting buyers who preferred not to drive a manual or own a hatchback. The subtle 1982 refresh brought square sealed beam headlights, a stylistic trend of the era, and sharpened the overall appearance, aligning it with contemporary automotive design. In 1983, Honda introduced the “S” version, a sportier 2-door hatchback equipped with a 5-speed manual, a more potent 1500 engine, upgraded suspension, alloy wheels, and distinctive red accents. The “S” trim was available in red or black and featured a unique interior color scheme, targeting a more performance-oriented buyer.
Close-up of the 1982 Honda Civic's engine bay, showing the CVCC engine and its components.
My Civic sedan, like all sedans in the lineup, came standard with the larger 1500cc SOHC engine, featuring the innovative 12-valve CVCC head and a Keihin 3-barrel carburetor, producing a modest 63 horsepower. Honda’s CVCC (Compound Vortex Controlled Combustion) system was a clever engineering solution to reduce emissions and enhance fuel efficiency while still utilizing a carburetor. The CVCC engine was a stratified charge engine, employing different intake valves to feed two distinct air-fuel mixtures into the combustion chamber.
Diagram illustrating the CVCC combustion process with pre-chamber and main chamber.
The CVCC cylinder head incorporated a small pre-chamber housing the spark plug, which received a richer fuel mixture via a dedicated, smaller intake valve. This third valve drew an extra-rich air-fuel mixture from a smaller third barrel in the carburetor. The spark plug ignited this rich mixture, and the resulting flame then propagated through a port into the main combustion chamber, igniting a much leaner mixture in the larger cylinder area above the piston.
This sophisticated combustion chamber design allowed earlier CVCC-equipped vehicles to achieve better fuel economy and meet stringent US emissions standards without needing a catalytic converter, at least for the smaller displacement engines Honda offered in the 1970s. While I’m uncertain if any 1980s CVCC models were catalyst-free, I recall seeing 1300 CVCC cars without them. However, my ’82 sedan, with the 1500 engine, definitely had a catalytic converter.
Image showcasing the lightweight construction of a similar era Honda Civic chassis.
Sixty-three horsepower might sound underwhelming by today’s standards (and it certainly wasn’t a powerhouse), but with its remarkably light curb weight of just 1,840 lbs, the 1982 Civic felt surprisingly sprightly for its time.
Side-by-side comparison photo of a 1982 Honda Civic and a 1980 Pontiac Trans Am, highlighting their size difference.
As a point of comparison, my Civic could accelerate to 45 mph just as quickly as my friend’s 1980 Trans Am, which was equipped with a Pontiac 301 engine and a fuel-economy focused 2.41:1 rear axle ratio. Of course, the Trans Am would ultimately overtake me in the quarter-mile and could effortlessly cruise at 120 mph with the air conditioning blasting, but it made for great garage banter. Later, we swapped out the 301 in his Trans Am for a late-sixties Pontiac 400, effectively resolving his Trans Am’s “Honda problem” once and for all.
A teenage boy proudly standing next to his 1982 Honda Civic, emphasizing the personal connection to the car.
My dad officially handed me the keys to my ’82 Civic in the summer of 1989. At 15, I was eagerly anticipating getting my learner’s permit and hitting the road. While my dream car was a black and gold ’77 Trans Am with T-tops, I was genuinely thrilled to have any car to call my own. Naturally, I quickly began personalizing my Civic. One feature it lacked was air conditioning, and since a T-top Trans Am remained a distant fantasy, I embarked on the next best thing: installing a DIY pop-up sunroof kit from the local Pep Boys auto parts store.
A young man cutting a hole in the roof of a 1982 Honda Civic to install a sunroof.
That’s fifteen-year-old me, bravely wielding a jigsaw to cut a hole in the roof of my car. It was on this day that I learned a valuable lesson about removing the headliner before cutting into the roof. Unfortunately, I removed too much of the headliner in the process, requiring copious amounts of double-sided carpet tape to keep it in place from then on.
Close up of the installed pop-up sunroof on the 1982 Honda Civic.
Fortunately, my metal-cutting skills proved far superior, and the sunroof never leaked. Fog lights, window tint, and other aftermarket accessories soon followed. While I now appreciate a more understated aesthetic, preferring cars without excessive spoilers and graphics, teenage sensibilities prevailed at the time. Teenage boys and their cars are much like teenage girls and makeup – more was always perceived as better. I’m just thankful that fart-cannon mufflers and massive spoilers weren’t readily available at Pep Boys back then. The import accessory market was still in its infancy, but if you wanted to add cherry bomb mufflers to your ’79 Camaro, you were in luck.
Front three-quarter view of the modified 1982 Honda Civic showcasing fog lights and tinted windows.
It’s quite possible that I owe my very existence to this car. My friends and I engaged in so much questionable behavior that I might not be here today if it weren’t for the fact that my car was inherently incapable of getting into too much trouble. The “sport” pictured above was affectionately known as roof-riding. That’s my friend Dominic, the undisputed world champion of roof-riding, perched precariously on the roof of my Honda. I genuinely have no idea what we were thinking.
A friend roof-riding on the 1982 Honda Civic, highlighting youthful recklessness and the car's role in teenage adventures.
The picture above showcases the second set of fog lights I installed. The original set met their demise after an ill-advised jump over a steep bridge near my current home in Chester County, PA. My Honda miraculously survived, largely thanks to the import tow hook loop visible under the center of the front end, which shielded the transmission and oil pan from serious damage. My friends following behind in an ’88 Nissan Sentra and a ’92 GMC Sonoma were less fortunate. The Nissan suffered a smashed transmission pan, hemorrhaging all its transmission fluid, and the GMC, while still drivable, was permanently bent into a banana shape from that point onward. Fortunately, we had some rope in the GMC and managed to tow the disabled Nissan out of the area before any unwanted attention from law enforcement arrived.
Rear view of the 1982 Honda Civic showing modifications and the presence of another car, possibly a Camaro.
My Honda also frequently served as a mobile laboratory for various automotive experiments and “Junkyard Wars” style modifications. One notable project (not pictured) was a ram-air intake system, inspired by my sister’s ’88 Camaro (visible in the shot with my Honda), which I constructed from PVC pipe and a scoop mounted in the airflow beneath the bumper. I even attempted to install air conditioning myself using an aftermarket system scavenged from junkyards. The inherent simplicity of the 1982 Civic made it an ideal platform for these DIY projects.
It even featured convenient knockout panels in the dashboard, simplifying the installation of toggle switches to control my home-brewed AC, a 1000-watt amplifier for my car audio, fog lights, and my homemade alarm system and kill switch setup. The car would only start if the toggle switches were in a specific sequence. A hidden toggle switch discreetly mounted under the rear bumper armed the alarm system, which employed a network of relays, a shock sensor, and the dome light circuit to trigger a fire-siren mounted under the hood.
Dashboard view of the 1982 Honda Civic emphasizing its simple and functional layout.
Looking back, it seems almost inevitable that I would eventually become an engineer. Cars were, and remain, my passion, and this 1982 Honda Civic was my formative automotive experience. While it wasn’t considered a “cool” car even then, there was an undeniable appeal to the Honda’s unique approach to design and engineering. Honda’s advertising slogan was “We make it simple,” and that perfectly encapsulated this car.
It was elegantly simple – a blank canvas for a mechanically inclined teenager like myself to make more complex. And my remarkably durable and loyal Honda endured all the teenage abuse I could inflict upon it with minimal issues. Beyond routine maintenance, the only replacements I recall were timing belts, a radiator, an alternator, and the exhaust system (a couple of times).
Time has marched relentlessly onward since these cars were new; 1982 is a distant era. As consumers, our automotive desires have evolved. We demand more features, more power, and prioritize safety more than ever. A car as fundamentally simple as the 1982 Civic is no longer viable in the North American market. A modern Civic, or any contemporary compact car, boasts more than double the horsepower, significantly more interior space, a plethora of amenities, and weighs considerably more. Yet, it achieves comparable fuel economy (using modern, adjusted EPA MPG standards) and offers a far greater chance of survival in a collision with a larger vehicle like an SUV. The trade-off, however, is the inherent simplicity and that light, nimble feel that defined these early Hondas. So, while modern cars are superior in many objective ways, when it comes to pure, unadulterated driving enjoyment and functional design, I’ll always fondly remember how Honda did it in 1982. I even kept a small souvenir from my “Little Blue” to help keep those memories alive.
