Not simply because I was looking for a smart-Alec line, I found myself wondering about this latest product from this most gloriously single-minded of car makers whether this Honda is a Prelude or a postscript.
After all, it is not a battery-electric vehicle, not even a plug-in hybrid, as is more or less mandated nowadays (and rightly so, I heard you mumble). It’s not an SUV or even a hatch/SUV “crossover”, as is overwhelmingly the market trend.
More startling still, it’s a new coupe, a species once plentiful (old Ford Capri, VW Scirocco), a defiant “two plus two” seater of relatively modest proportions. Indeed, whisper it, it’s probably best thought of as a slightly more sporty version of the excellent current Honda Civic Sport, which, in turn, is what we used to call a warm hatch.
There’s not much competition for this stylish creation, which is probably just as well because the coupe sub-sector accounts for no more than one per cent of new car sales, less than pickups. Its rivals, roughly speaking, include the BMW 2-Series and Mercedes-Benz CLE, which are more saloonish, let’s say, or, closer, an Alpine A110, if you can find one of the last ones, which is more involving but also more expensive.
The Prelude will, Honda says, find about 400 or 500 individualists a year who would like it for a lifestyle accessory. They’ll enjoy it, and, as near as can be stated literally, it will not break down.
Style rather than reliability or practicality is the main point of any coupe, sporting or otherwise, and the trick, perfected long ago by BMW, is to make consumers pay more for less – a two-door rather than a four-door variant of more or less the same machine.
The Prelude does command a clear premium over the list price of a Civic Sport (say £6,000), but for that, you do get something that looks, especially from the rear with its full-width lighting and pronounced boot lip, quite a lot like a Porsche. Or rather like Porsches used to be when they were lighter, smaller and more delicate. The Prelude does cut a dash, and does have a certain exclusive quality, rare in a world of oversized faceless blobby SUVs.
For the £40,000 or so it’s demanding, Honda will also throw in some uprated brakes, some other handling tweaks from the Civic Type R (now dropped in the UK due to its emissions), and “unique leather seats”. It also boasts an extension of the usual stability control/lane assist technology with something called “Agile Handling Assist”, which helps amateur drivers more easily find the apex to a bend, in effect like an invisible driving instructor nudging the steering wheel for you.
Driving it is easy for you, but hard work for the car. I got the impression that what the Honda people would really have liked to do is drop into that neat bodywork just the 2-litre petrol unit, but more highly tuned and mated to a six-speed manual gearbox. Instead, because of modern tastes and the transcendent need to save the planet (murmurs of agreement again, I trust), they’ve had to make a hybrid with a smooth, continuously variable gearbox and two electric motors that behave and even sound like a more traditional set-up by using some incredibly clever engineering.
THE SPEC
Honda Prelude Advance
Price: £40,995
Engine capacity: 2l petrol, 4-cyl + battery, auto
Power output (PS): 184
Top speed (mph): 117
0 to 60 (seconds): 8.2
Fuel economy (mpg): 54.3
CO2 emissions (WLTP, g/km): 117
There are many driving styles available, and you can make each journey “bespoke” by favouring comfort over performance, or increasing the amount of energy regeneration gained through braking; but the ultimate setting is “S+” which revs the engine harder and makes each (artificial) gear “shift” louder and more dramatic.
Like I say, an awful lot of modern software and engineering is employed just to make it sound and behave like something from the 1970s. The upside, though, is maximising fuel economy – I got 50mpg out of my example in mixed driving.
Like all Hondas, even the wackier stuff, the Prelude is an extremely civilised machine, smoothly high-revving, with safe, predictable handling and decent levels of comfort. When you accept that it’s not an out-and-out performance machine, with a zero-to-60mph time of 8.2 seconds, then you can concentrate on posing.
Indoors, I’d have to say some of the plastics aren’t the most “premium”, but most are attractive, and the interior mostly feels like it’s worth the money – and with the right mix of touchscreen and physical steering wheel and dashboard controls.
My only unfulfilled desires were for some lumbar adjustment on the seats and a head-up display, both of which would complement its GT credentials. I’m just glad the thing exists. I really do hope it isn’t a postscript.
