1979 Hondamatic Accord

A Hondamatic in it's natural habitat

My first car that I owned was a hand-me-down 1979 Hondamatic Accord.   Handed down from my mother, who only got her licence a couple of years before I did.  My mum would only ever drive small automatics.  I remember she had a Mitsubishi Colt she used to run from A to B in, which was a tiny little thing with no guts and a horrible beige color.  The Hondamatic was the car she drove prior to the upgrade.


The color and feel of this little beast reminded me of a space ship made out of the foil you get in cigarette packets.  Over the years, the roof had become rough and felt like it was wearing away.  It had two gears, low and star (depicted as an actual star on the gearstick).  I'd never heard of a car with two gears prior to this, and the fact the main gear was a star was a source of great amusement for my mates - especially my Danish friend Brian, a good friend of mine who had a baby poo yellow valiant, which was even older.


The fact I had inherited this from my mum meant it had roadside assistance, and this was a very good thing indeed because it broke down - alot.  The most common cause was the old fuel line getting blocked.  I would break down, and then roadside assistance would come, get under the car and literally bang the fuel line with a hammer.  In the end I took to keeping a hammer in the car so I could do it myself.


One such time I remember I had broken down on the way up a hill in Blacktown (where I grew up).  As I was scratching around a young bloke, around 16, and his father wandered up their driveway to see what I was doing up the front of their house. They were both dirty, pretty scabbily dressed, and had big watermelon shaped heads.  No need for a paternity test or a trip to the Mauri show with these two.  They fixed the car for me in about 5 minutes, and I felt really bad because I had no money to offer them, and also because I thought they were hillbillies and might have tried to scam me somehow.


I was also quite adept at locking myself out of it, which led to a fair amount of panel damage.  One day in particular, new years eve 1992 sticks out in my mind. This day was about 55 degrees Celsius, and I was parked in the K-Mart car park in Blacktown - an asphalt car park the size of a couple of footy fields.  Upon return to my car I saw that my keys were hanging out of the ignition.  I could also see my thongs under the driving pedals.  It gave me little comfort then, that what I did remember to do was look the doors.


Now by this time my bare feet were getting quite warm indeed.  It was about 40 metres to the nearest shade on the other side of the car park where the shops were, and by the time I got there, the soles of my feet were now more asphalt than skin. In Blacktown in 1992 only drug dealers had mobile phones, so I jumped from shadow to shadow along the concrete to get inside the shop and use the pay phone.  I flogged another pair of thongs from K-Mart to get back to my car.


Due to the scorching delay, I missed a rendezvous which in turn led to me missing a party, further adding insult to injury.  I think this incident in particular stands out in my mind for two reasons.  Firstly, it is my earliest reminder of why cars and I didn't really seem to mix. Secondly, because it was the first of a number of seriously disappointing New Years Eves.  But that's a different story.


This car got to a point where it was breaking down just about once a week.  NRMA were sick of me.  The hammers kept pounding away but eventually the car fell into a state of disrepair.  Being a student, I was always broke.  When rego came around I couldn't afford to register it, or even advertise it in the trading post, so I left it out the front of my parents house.


With an estimated street value of just under $500, it was still by far my most valuable asset, so I spoke to my father who said he had a couple of customers who might pay something for scrap. However one day soon after, I came home and the car was gone.  I thought the old man had come through and sold it and asked him how much he got for it.


"Speak to your mother" was all he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Just speak to your mother".


Suddenly I remember the warning mum had given that if I didn't wash it she would have it towed away. She wasn't happy that I'd left it on the median strip on account of how ugly it was so she told me I had to at least clean it.  There was no way I was going to clean a car that didn't work and had no rego and I didn't take her serious.  I should of.  I actually rang the police to see if you can even do that, and they said I could sue her for theft.  No further correspondence was entered into.


Being a Simpsons fan, I was rapped when the car referenced in an episode.  Check out the discussion underneath to see what excitement and conjecture even an Accord can arouse in car enthusiasts!!