Homage to White Fang

I said farewell to a most loyal companion before setting sail last month.  White Fang and I were together longer than any house I’ve ever lived in, any job I’ve ever worked, and far longer than any LTR I’ve ever entered into.

Sitting pretty on the bricks in McCook, Nebraska.

When I drove White Fang off the lot in June of 1994, she got an honest 60 miles per gallon, just like the EPA sticker said she would.  This incredible mileage was due to several factors:  1) the superb aerodynamics and light weight of the Civic hatchback design and construction; 2) the variable-valve technology of the oversized VTEC-E engine optimized for frugal fuel consumption in the VX model; 3) the low sprung weight of those racy alloy wheels; 4) the hardest, skinniest tires you’ve ever had the misfortune to try to drive on; and 5) the national speed limit of 55 miles per hour.

Posing by the Rio Grande in New Mexico.

 While the design and construction of the vehicle would continue to provide excellent mileage, elimination of the last two factors would significantly reduce our mileage within just a couple of years.  First, the hard compound used in those stock tires wore very quickly, so as soon as I could justify it I replaced them with some all-weather rubber that could comfortably handle the snow and ice and hellacious thunderstorms of the high plains and Colorado mountains.  That cost us about 10 mpg.  Second, President Clinton decided we’d all suffered long enough with Nixon’s national speed limit, a law that inspired rock lyrics but very little in the way of compliance.  That cost us another 5 mpg on the highway.  Time and small town driving conditions would each steal another couple of miles per gallon, but White Fang always got at least 40 mpg combined city and highway mileage (except on those occasions when I would neglect her and let the tire pressures get too low).

Camping out in Chaco Canyon.

Still, I was astounded when we saw a whopping 56 mpg on our final cross-country run between Flagstaff, Arizona and Barstow, California (true, it’s mostly downhill).  And the good thing about LA is nobody can go the speed limit any more—no matter what it is—so we saw excellent mileage around Southern California as well.  Overall, White Fang turned in an impressive 49 miles per gallon crossing the mountains and deserts, suburbs and coastlines of the American southwest from Golden, Colorado to Santa Barbara, California, where we finally parted company.  She had sold on eBay for $3,165—not bad for an 18-year-old that had once been the second cheapest car on the Honda dealer’s lot.

Looking smart in Santa Barbara.

I will miss White Fang always, but I am consoled by the knowledge that she went to a good home in a beach community that is perfectly suited to her strengths. A storybook ending for a great companion.