The EP3 Civic Type R is a car that has left an indelible mark on the automotive landscape. I’ve encountered this model quite a few times over the years, and 20 years ago, it felt like I was driving a Type R almost every week in a relentless pursuit of the ultimate hot hatch. Hot hatches were once a staple of the European market, and the Civic was no exception. From my previous experiences with the EP3, I had always believed that its strength lay in its engine and powertrain, while its chassis was its weakness.
It turns out my recollection wasn’t entirely accurate. The chassis of the EP3 is actually quite impressive. However, the steering is where it falls short. There’s a reason why this particular Civic remains a topic of discussion among enthusiasts. Its predecessor, the 1997 FK9, introduced VTEC variable valve timing, but it didn’t quite fit the European hot hatch mold. At the time, we weren’t sure where it belonged in the market.
To make things clearer, Honda designed the EP3 to resemble a box. It quickly earned the nickname “breadvan” due to its unique shape. The front end is angled in a way that gives it a rakish, slightly shrunken MPV look. People carriers were popular back then, and Honda ensured the EP3 was practical inside with decent back seats and a 315-litre boot. But what truly caught our attention wasn’t just its looks or practicality—it was the driving experience.
Photography: Dean Smith
The gearlever was placed on the dash, high up and just a handspan away from the equally appealing steering wheel. A set of Recaro seats and clear white dials added to the appeal. While it looked right, it also felt right. I remember the driving position being high, but now, with the rise of crossovers, that seems more familiar. I also recall it being on the cusp of something new. 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’s still highly athletic and nimble.
You need to wake it up. It’s like Orangina—dawdling around and you might wonder what all the fuss is about. The ride is a bit wooden, the engine lacks torque, and while there’s pleasure in operating such precise controls, you don’t get the sense that you’re piloting greatness. You have to dig 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, with induction noise barking frantically. I’m not sure if there’s any truth to the claim that Honda has never had a single mechanical failure with its VTEC system, but it feels unbreakable.
It’s matched every step of the way by one of the great gearshifts—a cool little lozenge of metal that sits perfectly in your palm and performs mechanical ballet as it snicks through the gate. Experiencing a good Honda powertrain is a must for any car enthusiast. It doesn’t have to be this one; it could be the S2000, the NSX, or the Accord Type R, but it must be manual and naturally aspirated.
As the engine exerts itself, so does the suspension. There are no adaptive dampers here, but it feels like there are. It’s 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 and cleanly around. 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 high mileages (don’t be), you can pick one up for under £5k. But despite all this talent, the steering’s muteness is a surprise. Oh well. You’ll cope. Far better than the FN2 that replaced it. That really did have a wooden chassis. At least that’s how 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
