According to an article on The Detroit News, the Honda Accord Coupe has Ferrari’s wail and a Tasmanian devil’s snap.
This car seems alive. The engine crests 6,800 revolutions per minute and the entire frame of the Honda Accord coupe thrums as if awaiting release. My left foot drops onto the clutch and I shift to third.
The car takes a breath, then the process begins anew. The tachometer needle sweeps right. The front wheels scrabble madly on the asphalt, power overcoming grip. The dashboard’s traction control alert blinks rapidly, the car’s electronic mind trying to intervene.
