Silent Hell- A Thousand Mile Journey in an Ageing Honda

It was dark when the first of my seven alarms roused me from my bed. I honestly can’t remember what time I woke up. I didn’t care… too early for anything but going back to sleep, if it were any other occasion. Today is the day, I thought. I showered, brewed myself a pot of dark roast coffee, and started to poach an egg. I stepped out onto the porch and stared to the east; it would still be another hour before the first of the sun’s rays came into view. I still had a few things to do yet, and I needed to get going if I wanted to arrive at my destination on time. I downed my cup of Joe, quickly refilled it, shovelled my poached egg into my face, and began my work.

The toaster-like, burnt orange and matte grey-clad shape loomed ominously in the dark. Today is the day, I thought once more. Judgement Day. It would be a long journey- a staggering 966 miles from Solon, Iowa to Casper, Wyoming. It was 740 miles just to get to my stopping point for today, in Hill City, South Dakota. Ordinarily, this journey would have been a peach. In my Volvo, I would have had loads of fun scooting across South Dakota’s 80 mile an hour speed limits, carving down mountains, and just generally having fun. This journey, however, would be different.

The car in question was a 2005 Honda Element. It had already broken the 250,000 mile barrier by this point, and we assumed that it would run for another 250,000 miles. It was a Honda, after all. After a long debate, I finally agreed to trade keys with my father. The Volboat would be mothballed for the summer (he was nervous about being ticketed because of the noise- he now daily drives a Chrysler Concorde), and I would be taking the Honda out to the middle of nowhere. It made sense, in the end. After all, I did only recently finally put an end to my transmission problems, and there was now a vacuum leak to contend with. Probably just a leaky fuel filler cap, but I didn’t want to have to replace a fuel line in the middle of nowhere if I was wrong.

I had driven this Honda before. Back when my Volvo was out with a blown transmission, I used the Element as a daily around campus. Its short wheelbase made it great for sneaking into otherwise inaccessible parking spots around campus, and the AWD paired with the 160 horse K24A seemed spunky enough to get me around town. It was nowhere near as commanding as driving my S80, but it got the job done. This, however, would be my first true baptism of fire with this vehicle. This one journey would rack up more miles on the Element than I did in my entire half semester without my Volvo.

I finished my second cup of coffee just after I finished getting my fishing equipment together. Well, crap, I thought. I’m gonna need a bigger cup. The arduous process of loading the car had begun. I would be living in Wyoming for the next two months or so, and I had packed accordingly. I had enough clothes to where I wouldn’t look like too much of a slob, plenty of food, drinks, and (most importantly) music to last me through the summer. The latter would actually take up the most room out of all of my items; a turntable, tape deck, receiver, two large speakers, and a component cabinet. In addition to all of this stuff was a myriad of books (mostly large palaeontological reference volumes) and geological tools. My Conn 6D double horn would go as well, along with my Shimano Voltaeus/Quantum Triax 30 rod and reel and a fair amount of tackle. It was going to be a crowded drive.

At least, I thought it would be. I had greatly underestimated the cargo capacity of the old Honda. Everything managed to fit just fine, and with room enough for a nearly empty passenger seat, thanks to the nearly 75 cubic feet of available cargo space. Loading the car was easier than I anticipated as well; the suicide doors and dual-hinged tailgate made loading heavy or bulky items much easier than in a conventional automobile. Even the seven foot unifibre fishing rod fit in without protest. As I finished my fourth cup of coffee, the first hints of the sun’s presence made themselves known, casting a dim orange glow over the landscape and illuminating the already very orangey Honda with an almost fluorescent glow.

At about 0700, my dad and I left our house and drove to the local Marathon, him in the Honda and me in my Volvo. I had to thrash her around one last time before I left for the summer. I gave my dad a good minute’s head start and punted the Volvo around the backroads near Coralville. The new catback exhaust filled the air with the sound of an angry 2.9 litre twin turbo straight six, the afterfire sounded reports of automatic gunfire from my tailpipe as I let off on the throttle. As I pulled into the petrol station, I sighed. It’s gonna be a long summer without you, old girl, I thought to myself. I tossed my dad the keys and hopped in the Honda after a quick fuel-up. Here we go!

I bid my father goodbye, grabbed a donut and another coffee, and hit the road, heading north on Interstate 380 towards Waterloo. As I got on the highway, I couldn’t help but notice that the Element felt noticeably slower than when I last drove it. This was, of course, to be expected; I had an extra 150 pounds onboard, and she was fully laden with fuel. Even taking that into consideration, it still felt too slow. I pulled off in Waterloo to get another coffee (this will be a running theme throughout the day), and decided to see how slow the Element really was. On a deserted road, I attempted a naught to sixty pull, and finally reached my goal after eighteen arduous seconds. Eighteen seconds! Just to get to sixty!

The miles rolled on. I-380 turned into US-218, and I took that all the way to the IA-27N/US-18W junction. In the cabin, all I could hear was the din emanating from the K24 as it strained to maintain a cruising speed of eighty miles an hour. I had made a decision, before any of this even started, that I would make the entire journey with no distractions of any sort; no radio, no nothing. Even after 104 miles, it was starting to get on my nerves. I wouldn’t break… I had to make it.

After many miles of monotony, I finally turned north once more. I broke through the Minnesota barrier after some time, and (again) went off to get a cup of coffee and refuel. The Element has a much shorter range than I am used to… even with the Volvo. Though my S80 averages about 16 miles to the gallon, it makes up for that with an exceptionally large 21.1 gallon fuel tank. The Element was seriously lacking in this regard, with only a 15.9 gallon tank, and the geometry of the tank itself would not allow it to even reach that number. The official range of the car was said to be 325 miles, but I was getting nowhere near that. This was partially due to the small fuel tank, but partially due to the high cruising speed I had set on the way over. An 80+ cruising speed would be no problem for the Volboat, but the spunky little four cylinder Honda simply wasn’t having it. Sadly, the inefficiency was to continue. If I wanted to get to my destination before the next day began, I would have to run the poor Honda hard.

From the Minnesota border on, it was a straight shot west on I-90. The miles, hours, and time zones began to meld together in a sort of hellish, confusing slurry. I wasn’t sure exactly how far I had to go; I was leaving my Garmin off until I deemed it completely necessary. I just knew that the white lines on the road were getting awfully hypnotising. I pulled off at a rest stop and managed to close my eyes for a bit. I laid my head on the passenger seat, my torso suspended across the canyon inbetween the two seats. After a frightfully long nap (I needed to get going!), a quick bathroom break, and a stop on the side of the road to observe a meadowlark, I set off in earnest once more.

I knew I was approaching the South Dakota border by the presence of the first of countless Wall Drug advertisements. I shook my head. Wall Drug was a notorious tourist trap, and I made it a point to stay only long enough to grab my five cent coffee and get out of dodge. That was still several hours away, but it was still nice to know that I’d have some entertainment ahead. Dodging idiot tourists in their massive motorhomes was always fun, especially in tight parking lots.

The next few hours were filled with trucks, cows, and prairie dog holes. And bugs… lots of bugs. By the time I would reach Hill City, on the far west end of the state, the Honda would be so thickly covered in dead insects that it would make even the most pockmarked of teenagers appear blemish-free by comparison. In using the wiper fluid, I found it terribly confusing at first. Where most cars would have one simple motion that would spray fluid and turn the blades on, the Honda was different. Just pushing back on the stick would spray only the rear windows, and twisting the knob would only spray the windscreen. To clean it, you had to twist the knob, then turn the wipers on manually. It was quite a convoluted process, to say the least.

I finally approached the west side of the state, and made my frantic stop in Wall Drug for my coffee. It was there that the inconvenience of the suicide doors became quite apparent. While they were incredibly efficient for loading cargo, the suicide doors could be quite problematic in day-to-day situations, especially if something was needed from one of the rear seats. Thankfully, I had no need to access the rear seats at that moment. I got my coffee and hurried out of town as quickly as I could.
The speed limits were set at a wonderful eighty miles an hour, and I pushed that envelope probably more than I should have. To my surprise, the Honda managed to reach triple digits (after a very long, very loud acceleration period, that is), if only for a moment. Though the highway was nearly completely void of traffic, and there were no State Troopers for a hundred miles, there were other things to worry about. In many of the other cars I’ve tested, a hundred miles an hour is no sweat, but in the Honda, things were different. It felt like every bit of that car wanted to kill me… so I slowed before it had the chance.

As I turned south through Rapid City, the sky had become dark. My accommodations were still another twenty minutes away, and were smack-dab in the middle of the Black Hills, and would require me to take the Element, erm, out of its element. This car was well-suited for hauling groceries, but not so much for keeping grip on a twisty mountain road. This final twenty minutes would be an extreme test of the car’s handling and braking abilities, and would likely bring the car’s biggest shortcomings to bear.

On the downhill, the car was fine, for the most part. The steering was surprisingly tight for a vehicle of that type, and it suffered from less body roll than I expected. It was there, for sure, but it wasn’t Ford Explorer bad by any means. The brakes were okay, and the two lower gears allowed for decent enough engine braking to where I didn’t really notice too much brake fade. It was on the uphills that the Honda was truly lacking. The K24A4 puts down somewhere around 160 horsepower and 161 foot-pounds of torque, which would be great… in a smaller automobile. With a wet kerb weight of 3,565 pounds, it was definitely not a small car; less than 200 pounds shy of my Volboat. There simply wasn’t enough power being sent to the wheels to allow for any sort of increase in forward movement uphill. The darn thing was struggling just to maintain speed. At some times, it didn’t.

By the time I had reached the house of an old friend and mentor of mine, the light of the sun had completely gone from the sky. I had one final hurtle to jump before I could rest for the night, and it was a biggun. My friend’s house was pretty much built into the side of one of the mountains and the driveway was quite the bear to get up. To get the Honda up the drive, we had to give it a running start. The orange cube just barely made it to the top of the driveway under its own power, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I engaged the parking brake. I would sleep quite well that night.

Morning broke over Hill City, and I headed down to chat with more old friends. It was nice to be back in Hill City after so long, even if for a fleeting moment. I gathered my thoughts, bid my friends goodbye, and sprinted towards the Wyoming border.

The long, straight roads of Wyoming presented a new challenge: wind. There had been some gusty spots in South Dakota, but none like those in Wyoming. As I turned south, the little Honda bore the brunt of forty to fifty mile an hour straight line winds; its slab sides catching the wind like a sail. Even with the additional weight of all my cargo, it was all I could do just to keep the stupid thing on the road. As I approached Casper, the car started to act… weird. After I finally arrived at the Tate Museum, I met my boss, and he headed out to show me to my new place (I am renting a house from him). As I put the Honda in reverse to get out of my parking spot… it stalled! After a dreadfully long startup, it finally coughed to life, and I headed home. A misfire in two cylinders. Fun stuff.

So, what do I think of the Element? In my time dailying it during the school year, I didn’t really find too many faults with it, other than the idiotic suicide doors. However, driving it out west on a 1,000 mile road trip brought new problems to light. It’s disastrously underpowered, the transmission is slow to respond, and it has some quirks. But in the end, it’s pretty dependable, practical, and the AWD isn’t bad (it’s not Subaru good, but hey, I’ll take what I can get). That said, I wouldn’t take it on another long journey like this. At times, I feel like buying my boss’ old Suburban and towing the Element home. I think that would be a fun trip, moreso than my trip out in the Element, anyway.