By on November 11, 2019

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, LH front view - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsIn the 1970s and 1980s, American roads were full of Detroit machinery with loud exhaust, aftermarket fiberglass hood scoops, fat tires, and air shocks lifting the rear end high enough to show the slapper bars on the leaf springs. A couple of decades later, automotive-modification fashions had changed, with Japanese and South Korean cars covered with futuristic plastic body kits and sporting 6-inch diameter tailpipes (on 1.5-inch exhaust systems).

Here’s a good example of a mid-1990s Accord, done up with mid-2000s-style “import tuner” add-ons, found in a Colorado automotive graveyard.

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, speedometer - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsThis car had just over 150,000 miles on the clock when it met this sorry fate. That’s much lower than the reading I see on most junkyard Hondas of this era.

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, body damage - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsThis doesn’t look like very severe crash damage, but it must have been enough to send the car into The Crusher‘s ecosystem.

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, hood scoop - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsOwner’s of fifth-generation Accords still have a very wide selection of body components and kits available. The hood scoop has a somewhat 1980s-Detroit look about it.

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, engine - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsUnder the hood, a tube header and a blue-painted valve cover add precisely zero horsepower (unless the camshafts have been changed to take advantage of the slightly better-flowing exhaust, which I doubt very strongly).

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, automatic gearshift lever - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsAnyway, it’s an automatic car, so we can assume it wasn’t living life a quarter-mile at a time (like this Scion tC must have done).

1995 Honda Accord in Colorado junkyard, side mirror - ©2019 Murilee Martin - The Truth About CarsI’m all for making boring commuter appliances look cool, but I think it’s best to start out with a three-pedal car. They’re cheaper, anyway.

Still cheap!

Because the fifth-gen Accord had grown to American dimensions, it cost quite a bit to register in space-constrained Japan.

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34 Comments on “Junkyard Find: Furiously Modified 1995 Honda Accord Coupe...”

  • avatar
    Land Ark

    This generation coupe is seriously attractive in the right color. I find myself looking for clean examples now and then.

    • 0 avatar

      Back around 2003 or 2004 a buddy and I went used car shopping in the city, we went to dozens of used car dealerships but all we found was over priced boring stuff. Then we went behind a Honda store and we saw a 97 accord coupe sitting there, beige/beige and I think it was a 5-spd but can’t remember. It was a trade in likely about to go to a wholesaler but we bought it first and drove it the 3 hours home with plates off another car lol.

      My buddy drove that thing for years and then traded it off for something else and it sat on a small used car lot in a small town for months/years and I never saw it again.

  • avatar

    I still see some old F&F type cars – usually rusted Civics – though it is definitely not as popular as it used to be. A small segment of the WRX crowd still seems to suffer from the over the top exterior mods, but I’ve seen my fair share of Mustangs – usually of the V6 variety – too.

  • avatar

    I mean, in fairness, it’s no more ridiculous than a current-gen Civic is straight from the factory.

  • avatar

    Honda drivers in 2000: add fart can, drive too fast.

    Honda drivers in 2019: add diaper, drive too slow.

  • avatar

    Automatic – because nobody (very few) can drive a stick these days.
    Manual transmissions- the best theft deterrent out there.

  • avatar

    Back in the late 90s/early 2000s in Massachusets these rice burners were EVERYWHERE….all body kits stickers and fart cans that added zero performance. I was in college at the time and they were a joke to me and my friends. But youd have maybe 10% that were real tuners who had added real performance mods. Funny thing is this fad was at its peak before the fast and the furious movies.

    • 0 avatar

      As far as I could tell, the popularity of these silly exterior mods and “fart cans” did fall off after the first movie was released. Not sure if there was a correlation, or if “ricing” had already peaked and the movie was playing catch up to an already fading movement.

      I was driving a 1986 Monte Carlo SS at the time – one with a 355 engine that I had built myself. And the number of kids in Accords or Civics with wings tailgating me… sigh.

    • 0 avatar

      That’s always the way it is with movies. Disco had peaked (at least amongst cool people) before Saturday Night Fever came out.

      I’ve been to many an autocross with rice rockets parked in the distance watching while ratty Civics went around the course on steelies.

      And finally, nothing, but nothing, sounds dumber than a fart can exhaust on an automatic.

      • 0 avatar

        DIsco never died at WZAZ

        Something that sounds slightly dumber than a fart can with an automatic is a fart can with a manual when the driver doesn’t know how to heel and toe, but instead slowwwwwwly slips the clutch after downshifting.

  • avatar

    They were everywhere in the early 2000’s, now I am trying to remember when they vanished. Not modded hondas, just the ricer ones? I think by around 07 they were gone for the most part.

  • avatar

    Commenters here seem to be focusing on added, aftermarket modifications to these cars. For me, stock, these mid-90s Accords, both 2- and 4-door, were – and remain – the most attractive and well-sized examples of this model.

  • avatar

    I liked the looks of my 2001 Accord – hated the auto transmission and the V6, the latter which had all the power of a 4-cyl but with worse MPG. It probably was a fine engine but the funky auto killed whatever enjoyment I could have had with that car. Back then I wished it was the 2.4L 4-cyl with the 5-speed.

  • avatar

    Sic transit gloria mundi.

  • avatar

    “Bam-Bam” Nam felt like the whole world was gapping him.

    “Nam (pronounced in a most Southern Caucasian ” ‘nam”), your table needs some attention.”, called Bam-Bam’s pit-boss. Bam-Bam registered that it must be a problem with their bill, mentally preparing himself for some customers who, rightly, would plausibly complain about a baffling debt. He grabbed the Awesome Blossom from beneath the heating lamp, delivering it stealthily to Table 5, enroute to a ruffled Table 8. “What is this charge for this…is this the tablet thing?”, they balked. Nam sighed, and might as well have been watching this woman, with the correct may-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut, place what tip might have been back into her purse.

    His closing shift now over, a dejected Nam strode out to his almost abandoned-looking Accord. The glowing red pepper reflected in it’s rear window suddenly was extinguished, giving him a latent feeling of relief. He opened the door. His nostrils were suddenly filled with the scent of a dying Marine Squash Air Spencer trying it’s damnedest to beat back the aroma of fry oil, onion, and American cheese. He slid all 4’11” under the tight confines of the steering column, and settled into the fissured leather. Bam-Bam cranked the key, which reliably resulted in a very Honda “chip-chip-chip” sound, followed by a smooth puttering drone that delighted him in the same vein as receiving bottle service at a McDonald’s.

    Nam checked his phone for updates on the mass text. It looked like everyone he knew was already at the 1320 C.C. meet. He scrolled through various messages discussing if certain people would be there, followed by queries such as “Is he bringing the FD?” Bam-Bam was not one of those people. He turned on his headlights and slipped the shifter into “R”. Before swapping to “D”, he noticed a familiarly-primer colored object laying in the parking lot. “What the…F?” He exited the thrumming Honda and arrived at the scene of what used to be his passenger front fender. He scanned 360° in the empty parking lot for a perpetrator or witnesses and found none. Perhaps he could check the security cameras, he thought. No. It didn’t matter. He eyed the area where an unknown previous owner carefully buttered the Vader kit to the fender. The hairline crack in the hand-sculpted body filler had been replaced by a primer-crusted chasm. “There’s no getting it painted now.”, he thought. It was followed up a split second later by a recoiling “HA!” from his internal self. As if the envisioned Big Bird yellow plan would have even become a reality. Nam stood back for a moment, looking at this artifact from an automotive subculture that had collapsed under it’s own weight. Clearly, spending the $800 for that paint job would be better spent paying down the spiteful interest on his obligation to his credit card. Hell, it would better be spent simply lighting it on fire. Still, something had to be said aloud for this infraction. “Thanks.”

    The black steelie-shod Accord exited the Denver Boulder Turnpike onto Flatiron. There in the Twin Peaks parking lot rested a horde of performance machines glistening under high intensity lamps. Bam-Bam dropped the Honda into low range to simulate a downshift in case anyone in the crowd noticed. They didn’t. He then hid the Accord in the Starbucks lot. After being jubilantly greeted by many friends, the topic of discussion segued to his long-stolen Integra Type R. “That thing was so sick.”, he was told. It wasn’t helpful to his mood. A mental montage flash-depicted a smaller than expected check from the insurance, followed by many checks signed to Visa. “Yeah.”, he smiled.

    The last of Bam-Bam’s friends exited the parking lot, waving from vehicles that had made the transition to the next automotive sect. That was Nam’s cue to leave. Not just from the physical dark and cold parking lot, but the metaphorical one as well. To simply scrap a perfectly drivable Honda seemed ridiculous to him at first, but that was what he was going to do.

    Bam-Bam handed his friend Teo a very thin stack of the ransom paid for Honda blood. They shook hands ceremoniously, and Nam was handed a pink slip along with one very very weathered Acura key.
    “What are friends for, homie?”

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