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"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car

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"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car | Top Gear

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One of Honda's great engine and gearbox combos wrapped up in... a box

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"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car

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One of Honda's great engine and gearbox combos wrapped up in... a box

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
One of Honda's great engine and gearbox combos wrapped up in... a box

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"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
"A mini masterpiece": why the EP3 Honda Civic Type R is a proper hero car

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
One of Honda's great engine and gearbox combos wrapped up in... a box

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I’ve met this one a fair bit before. In fact 20 years ago I seemed to be driving a Type R pretty much every week in yet another battle to establish the best hot hatch. Ah, hot hatches, remember them? I tried to before I drove this EP3 and what I recalled was that the Civic’s strength was its engine – actually its whole powertrain – and its weakness was its chassis.

Turns out I’ve been doing some misremembering. Because the chassis is a corker. It’s the steering that lets it down. Anyway, there’s a reason this is the Civic that everyone bangs on about. Yes, its predecessor, 1997’s FK9, had VTEC variable valve timing, but it didn’t quite fit the European hot hatch mould. We didn’t know what box it should fit in.

To help us out, Honda made its successor the shape of a box. The EP3 was quickly nicknamed the breadvan. It’s a curious looking thing, the one angle front end and upright tail giving it the air of a rakish, shrunken MPV. People carriers were all the rage back then, plus Honda made sure the EP3 was practical inside with decent back seats and a 315-litre boot. But that’s not what got us rubbing sweaty palms on our trousers.

Photography: Dean Smith

They’d stuck the gearlever on the dash. Nice and high, just a handspan from the equally lovely steering wheel. And shoved in a corking set of Recaro seats. And clear white dials. As much as it looked right, it felt right.

I remember the driving position feeling high. But not now we’ve all been indoctrinated to crossovers. I also remember it being caught on a cusp. Although it was the size and usefulness of a Golf or a Megane, it had the attitude and zest of a Clio or Mini. It doesn’t feel big now, but it is still mightily athletic and nimble.

You’ve just got to wake it up. It’s like Orangina. Dawdle around and you’ll wonder what all the fuss is about: the ride is a bit wooden, the engine has zero torque and while there’s pleasure in operating controls this precise, you don’t get the sense you’re piloting greatness. You’ve got to go digging for it.

Give it a shake. Rouse the revs. It jolts itself awake at 6,000rpm and tears off like it’s had an intravenous triple shot espresso, induction noise barking frantically. I’ve no idea if there’s any truth in the claim that Honda has never had a single mechanical failure of its VTEC system, but it feels unburstable.

And it’s matched every step of the way by one of the great gearshifts, a cool little lozenge of metal that sits in the palm of your hand just so and performs mechanical ballet as it snicks around the gate. Experiencing a good Honda powertrain is a must do for any car enthusiast. Doesn’t have to be this, could be the S2000 or the NSX or the Accord Type R, but it must be manual and it must be naturally aspirated.

As the engine exerts itself, so the suspension finds a new level to operate at. There’s no adaptive dampers here, but it feels like there are. A bit stiff and wooden when pottering, but given more to do it finds a level of fluency I’d completely forgotten about.

It pitches into corners with a bit of roll, hoiks a back wheel in the air and scoots crisply, cleanly round. There’s no diff, but on a dry road at least you don’t really miss it. What you have is the complete package, an eager Beagle of a car.

The EP3 is a mini masterpiece and if you’re not scared of silly mileages (don’t be) you can pick one up for under £5k. But against all this talent the steering’s muteness is a surprise.

Oh well. You’ll cope. Far rather this than the FN2 that replaced it. That really did have a wooden chassis. At least that’s the way I remember it.

Hero: A complete hoot to drive. Also surprisingly practical

Zero: Not sure how steering feel slipped through the net. I’d cope

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I’ve met this one a fair bit before. In fact 20 years ago I seemed to be driving a Type R pretty much every week in yet another battle to establish the best hot hatch. Ah, hot hatches, remember them? I tried to before I drove this EP3 and what I recalled was that the Civic’s strength was its engine – actually its whole powertrain – and its weakness was its chassis.

Turns out I’ve been doing some misremembering. Because the chassis is a corker. It’s the steering that lets it down. Anyway, there’s a reason this is the Civic that everyone bangs on about. Yes, its predecessor, 1997’s FK9, had VTEC variable valve timing, but it didn’t quite fit the European hot hatch mould. We didn’t know what box it should fit in.

To help us out, Honda made its successor the shape of a box. The EP3 was quickly nicknamed the breadvan. It’s a curious looking thing, the one angle front end and upright tail giving it the air of a rakish, shrunken MPV. People carriers were all the rage back then, plus Honda made sure the EP3 was practical inside with decent back seats and a 315-litre boot. But that’s not what got us rubbing sweaty palms on our trousers.

Photography: Dean Smith

They’d stuck the gearlever on the dash. Nice and high, just a handspan from the equally lovely steering wheel. And shoved in a corking set of Recaro seats. And clear white dials. As much as it looked right, it felt right.

I remember the driving position feeling high. But not now we’ve all been indoctrinated to crossovers. I also remember it being caught on a cusp. Although it was the size and usefulness of a Golf or a Megane, it had the attitude and zest of a Clio or Mini. It doesn’t feel big now, but it is still mightily athletic and nimble.

You’ve just got to wake it up. It’s like Orangina. Dawdle around and you’ll wonder what all the fuss is about: the ride is a bit wooden, the engine has zero torque and while there’s pleasure in operating controls this precise, you don’t get the sense you’re piloting greatness. You’ve got to go digging for it.

Give it a shake. Rouse the revs. It jolts itself awake at 6,000rpm and tears off like it’s had an intravenous triple shot espresso, induction noise barking frantically. I’ve no idea if there’s any truth in the claim that Honda has never had a single mechanical failure of its VTEC system, but it feels unburstable.

And it’s matched every step of the way by one of the great gearshifts, a cool little lozenge of metal that sits in the palm of your hand just so and performs mechanical ballet as it snicks around the gate. Experiencing a good Honda powertrain is a must do for any car enthusiast. Doesn’t have to be this, could be the S2000 or the NSX or the Accord Type R, but it must be manual and it must be naturally aspirated.

As the engine exerts itself, so the suspension finds a new level to operate at. There’s no adaptive dampers here, but it feels like there are. A bit stiff and wooden when pottering, but given more to do it finds a level of fluency I’d completely forgotten about.

It pitches into corners with a bit of roll, hoiks a back wheel in the air and scoots crisply, cleanly round. There’s no diff, but on a dry road at least you don’t really miss it. What you have is the complete package, an eager Beagle of a car.

The EP3 is a mini masterpiece and if you’re not scared of silly mileages (don’t be) you can pick one up for under £5k. But against all this talent the steering’s muteness is a surprise.

Oh well. You’ll cope. Far rather this than the FN2 that replaced it. That really did have a wooden chassis. At least that’s the way I remember it.

Hero: A complete hoot to drive. Also surprisingly practical

Zero: Not sure how steering feel slipped through the net. I’d cope

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One of Honda's great engine and gearbox combos wrapped up in... a box

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Meet your heroes: Honda Civic Type R EP3