Driving One of the First Acura Integras Ever Built

TORRANCE, Calif.—The Proust phenomenon: when an unexpected scent or taste activates strong, autobiographical memories.

I’m behind the wheel of a 1986 Acura Integra. Not just any 1986 Acura Integra: this one was sold on March 28, 1986, the second day of Acura’s existence. At one of only four dealers operating in California at that time. It may be the oldest functioning Acura Integra in existence, and is lovingly kept in condition at the American Honda Collection Hall, a part of the automaker’s Torrance headquarters.

For a brief two-year period of my youth, a similar Integra graced the Patrick household. It was slightly newer, a four-door (ahem, five-door), equipped with an automatic transmission and painted in the most ‘80s of bronze hues. It was one of the cars in which I learned to drive, the one I miss most often. It takes all of five seconds to sit in this well-kept example to pick up on those familiar Honda scents of the day.

As fellow Canadian and deserved icon Celine Dion once belted out: it’s all coming back to me now.

The Integra was the first compact luxury offering from any Japanese brand, as Infiniti was still a few years out and Lexus wouldn’t dabble with genuinely small, front-drive cars until the next century. Based on the third-generation Honda Civic, the three-door Integra matched its little sibling’s 96.5-inch (2,450 millimeter) wheelbase, while the sedan added an extra 2.8 in (71 mm). It filled a hole in the automotive landscape: slightly smaller than the BMW 3 Series at the time (the vaunted E30 generation), but significantly larger than the contemporary VW Golf.

This was a time of incredible change at Honda. An engineering-first approach was putting advanced technology into the hands of the people, and the company’s reputation for innovation, quality, and exceptional driving dynamics was cementing. The stunning, Pininfarina-penned Honda HP-X, the brand’s first-ever concept car and an early precursor to the NSX, had debuted in Europe two years earlier. The Civic was about to enter what many believe was its golden era, the time when a dual-wishbone front, fully independent rear suspension was standard across the lineup, an advanced layout that was typical of higher-end cars at the time.

The Integra missed out on that particular advancement, sticking to a strut front and solid axle rear. What it did introduce to American buyers was the D-series engine. Whereas most other markets had to make do with carbureted engines, the D16A1 was a fuel-injected, dual-overhead-cam sweetheart of an engine. Larger than the Civic’s engine at the time, this 1.6-liter was under-square—longer stroke (90 mm) than bore (75 mm)—yet would still rev to 7,000 rpm. Peak power of 113 horsepower hit at a heady 6,250 rpm, with a healthy 99 pound-feet of torque arriving 750 rpm sooner. (‘88 and ‘89 models like our family’s benefitted from further engine improvements for an additional 5 hp.) A five-speed manual or a four-speed automatic were optional.

There were just two trims at launch: entry RS and higher LS. Luxury was a little different back then: there was an AM/FM radio and remote adjustable side mirrors, but power windows were only available on the five-door LS, and that top trim came with huge 15-inch alloy wheels. That’s what this museum car is, and to these eyes anyway, it still looks fantastic: all clean surfaces and sharp creases, with always-cool pop-up headlights and an aggressively raked windshield signalling just the right amount of sporty intentions.

Getting into the silver car is a trip for the senses. The tiny key to unlock the door and then twist to awaken the D16, that familiar starter noise quickly setting into a smooth idle. Whether it’s the thin plastic of the wheel, the delightful striped cloth adorning the seats and doors, the engine warming up or a combination of all three, the old-Honda smell transports me back to childhood. It’s summer, the Integra is sailing down the country road that we’d take always take into town, my sister and I have cranked the rear windows down, and we’re asking mom to pick up speed for “the rollercoaster,” a peak that briefly gives us that weightless feeling.

With four decades and a little shy of 70,000 miles under its wheels, Honda’s own Integra is probably the closest thing you’ll find to a new first-gen model. The essentials are all here: a sweet, right-placed driving position with an incredible, IMAX-like view out thanks to thin pillars. The wheel is tilt adjustable and there’s no seat height adjustment, so taller (or smaller) folks might not gel with it so well, but it’s perfect for me. Every touch point feels dainty by modern standards: the thin rim of the wheel, the low-profile shift knob, the mechanical air-con sliders, the fiddly equalizer adjustments. 

There’s a lightness of touch that emanates from every control. It’s not insubstantial or vague, rather a sense of deliberate ease-of-use, of making the Integra feel instantly familiar to folks who were, at the time, walking into an entirely new brand’s showroom.

That feeling translates to the road, too. There are clear Civic—or really, more Accord or even Prelude—vibes to how the Integra moves down the road. The suspension isn’t sophisticated but it has incredible body control for a) a rather pedestrian model and b) hitting middle age. Our casual coastal drive has its fair share of crumbly road edges and the Integra takes it in stride, maintaining direction and softening the blow at the same time. The chunky sidewalls of the era surely help, and there isn’t much in the way of creaking or buzzing either. Going canyon carving is off the menu for a variety of rational reasons, but the Integra’s smooth, power-assisted rack-and-pinion steering and the wide (for the time) 195-section rubber give it that same positive, eager steering feel that has come to define Honda’s best modern products.

The powertrain remains a star. Even with its now-meager output, the D16 is incredibly smooth, with a distinct hum that modern turbocharged engines can’t hope to match. It loves to rev too, with incredible throttle response that only encourages more interaction. While this is still a few years before VTEC, the little four-cylinder will happily explore the upper reaches of its tachometer with no increase in harshness. The shifter is a long ways from the snick-snick seriousness of the current six-speed manual, but it remains predictable and positive to move between the gears. It’s a similar story for the clutch

Numbers don’t tell you how modern the Integra feels amongst traffic. It isn’t outright quick these days— Car and Driver quoted a leisurely 8.8 seconds at the time—but the DA-generation Integra also only had to haul around 2,400 pounds. In SoCal traffic it easily keeps pace around town, it can merge onto highways without issue and, like a modern Miata, it always feels quicker than it’s actually travelling. 

The Integra’s truly sporting genes would arrive in the next two generations, culminating in what might just be the ultimate front-drive performance car: the Integra Type R. Yet like an eager sports parent, Acura got the Integra into racing young, not only entering the IMSA International Sedan Series but winning the Manufacturer’s championship in ‘87 and ‘88. To celebrate today’s milestone, the brand has rolled out a very cool first-gen racer. 

It’s a dream come true to revisit the original Integra in the year we both hit the big 4-0. Not only does it provide perspective on a vehicle that was critical to my early years, but it helpfully does the same for the current Integra. As before, Acura’s entry-level car offers buyers an elevated Honda Civic experience. That baseline has obviously changed, with Honda’s best-seller becoming bigger, more powerful, more comfortable and yes, more premium. It is, justifiably, one of the best small cars you can buy. The Integra offers up more niceties—seriously, name a better audio system than the ELS setup—and a refined drive, while still substantially undercutting the established luxury competition. This ‘86 Integra would’ve listed for under $11,000 at its time, when a BMW 325 was easily double that.

Acura as a brand may be in a strange place right now— the RSX EV is dead, the RDX is winding down with a replacement years away, and the NSX is nowhere to be seen—but the Integra can be the guiding star for the brand as it enters its 41st year. Nail the fundamentals, offer a bit of extra fanciness on top, and price it all at a level that still provides value. It was a winning combination then, and it’s a winning combination now.

Happy birthday, Acura.

A huge thank you to Carl and Patrick at the American Honda Collection Hall for making this story possible.

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