As a parent, you already have enough to worry about. Who’s picking up the kids if your afternoon meeting runs late? What are we going to have for dinner? Why is everything suddenly so suspiciously quiet? What are you two up to – argh, not the walls!
When you spend your life as a series of short-distance sprints to prevent toddlers from eating things they shouldn’t, you look for predictability in your car. For more than 30,000 Canadians so far this year, the search leads to the Honda CR-V. Outselling the Accord 3-to-1, it’s the worry-free Honda for the family: so I loaded one up and headed into the teeth of one of the worst storms in recent history.
This is not what was planned. The vacation days were set aside months ago, and the onset of a typhoon-fuelled pacific storm slouched closer with malignant inevitability. At the last moment, the friends we planned on staying with in Seattle suffered a basement flood. We found ourselves on the road south without a place to stay.
On the one hand, being suddenly thrust into a nomadic life wasn’t so bad. The four-cylinder crossover is killing off the ordinary family four-door sedan with utter ruthlessness, and for good reason. Despite the rain and winds lashing the road, inside we were warm, dry, and comfortable, with all-wheel drive and a high seating position that let us look well down-range to spot lollygaggers in the HOV lane.
It’s worth noting that this is the 2016 CR-V, and there’s an updated 2017 model on the way – with new styling, a turbocharged engine, and more cargo space. While we wait for that to arrive, a closer look at the current model (which will benefit from the usual end-of-year incentives) seeks to answer the question, is it worth waiting for the new one?
First impressions are a solid maybe. On one hand, the CR-V’s cavernous 1,054-litre trunk is larger than any small wagon on the market, and has a low floor, making it easy to load. When they’re grown, your kids will be able to traipse around Europe with two pairs of socks and one pair of reversible underwear; while they’re still little, each one needs more equipment than an NHL goalie.
That’s the good part, as is the useful rear seat room and easy-to-use LATCH system. Where the current-gen CR-V falls down is up front with the driver and passenger. The top-level Touring trim comes with a dated navigation system that might as well be a Commodore 64 to anyone who’s used a smartphone in the last half-decade. It functions, but inputs can’t be typed in while in motion; my wife, acting as navigator, just powered up the phone.
With much of Seattle experiencing power outs, we headed inland. Happily, it being off-season, we were presented with a slew of options. Settling on a cabin at the foot of Mount Baker, we left the water-contrails of the highway, and began threading our way through winding, leaf-strewn country roads. Here, the CR-V was pleasant, but unremarkable.
Next year, the CR-V gets the option of a turbocharged 1.5-litre four-cylinder engine in the higher trims. It’ll doubtless produce more usable torque and return improved fuel economy numbers on the official test-cycles, but I’m not so sure this is an improvement.
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The current CR-V’s 2.4-litre inline-four makes 185 horsepower at 6,400 rpm and 181 lb-ft of torque at 3,900 rpm. For most of those 30,000 new CR-V owners, I might as well be talking about the available RAM in their laptop or the BTUs on their water heater. What’s important is how much fuel does it drink, and is it fast enough to get out of its own way?
Thanks to a well-programmed CVT, the answer to both questions should please the average consumer. Official fuel ratings for the CR-V are 8.6 litres/100 km in mixed mileage, and hand-measured results over several hundred kilometres were 0.2 litres/100 km more. That’s real-world efficiency a turbocharged engine will be hard-pressed to match. Further, while it’s no EcoBoost-powered Ford Escape, the CR-V is perfectly willing to make passes at U.S. interstate speeds, and climbed up the slopes to the top of Baker without issue.
Maybe you had an unkillable Honda Civic in college, one that survived to some ridiculous odometer reading by virtue of its simple construction. Turbochargers for the sport-minded Civic Si and Type-R are a good idea, added complexity for the Honda family truckster are maybe not.
Our simple CR-V weathered the storm, then sat outside happily while we stoked the wood-burning stove and battened down the hatches. In the morning, the skies had cleared, and the storm warning was declared a bit overblown. Suitably waterproofed with rain gear, we headed out into the woods to watch the water surge through the river and over the waterfalls with great and furious violence.
With every trip, the CR-V became progressively muddier inside and out. Cheerios were dropped between the seats. We took off for a letterboxing expedition – a stamp-collecting game similar to geocaching – and left a couple of muddy rings on the dashboard.
En route to Seattle, the CR-V was the last thing anyone was thinking about. The kids were eager to see their friends. My wife was wondering about where to stop for groceries. I was making a mental list of things to pick up at the outdoor store: coffee mug, new boots, maybe a warmer hoodie.
The Honda hummed along toward our destination as the sun came out at last, doing its job, and fading into the background. After all, we all had enough to worry about.