Chopsuey’s 2025 Civic Si Build Thread

[chopsuey34]

God, I can't wait until spring to take my winters off and stop writing. It gets like this every winter about this time of year. I used to spend hours on the forums and looking up car parts, now I write about how cars make me feel. It helps take the tension off. Simulators don't work, they don't feel right. I need the real thing, baby. I need high revving combustion turning hydrocarbons into emotion and a slick manual transmission.

But the thing is, by the time October rolls around, I'm kind of over driving and need a break. I'm not sure if I would really love driving as much as I would if I lived in California. Being able to drive all the time might ruin the wonderful cycle of spring energy, summer cruising, fall adventures, and winter hibernation.

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[chopsuey34]

It's Presidents' Day, this banker has a day off from work, and Michigan weather has been sunny and 50's the past few days. I'm itching to take my winters off, but the weather seems like it will dip into the next week, so I'll wait to change for now:

Updates regarding negatives with the Civic Si:


Original Negative: Lack of heated steering --> now upgraded to neutral

1/30/2026: I was able to try an Accord with a heated steering wheel, and I'm not impressed. It seems to me that Honda's heated steering wheels are not all that. 1) It takes a while for them to heat up and 2) they don't get that warm when they do. By that time, the engine's probably warm enough, and you can use the vents to heat your hands up. Plus the heated wheel won't heat through gloves. So, this isn't much of a negative anymore.


Adding a negative to the list:

2/15/2026: Honda's electronic power steering system. Generally, the Honda EPS system in the 11th gens is pretty good, but there's one small thing that really takes me out of the driving experience occurs when cruising down a highway at speed. When making micro adjustments to keep the car going straight, the EPS system "catches" itself and instead of me making very tiny, very smooth, nearly imperceptible adjustments as in any other car I've ever driven, every little adjustment makes a "bump" or a "catch". Highway driving is normally a time when I zone out, but every few hundred feet, I get tapped back into consciousness by the steering. It's like you working at the office, but every 30 seconds, someone taps you very slightly on your shoulder. Oh well, I'm not trading the car in for something like that.

I have all steering safety systems off in normal driving, but I sometime toggle on self-driving on the highway. It might have something to with that system, I'm not sure. And this is a 2025, so there's no recall for the steering rack, so I don't think it's that.


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I saw a dark blue modded GR86 on the road yesterday. It got me wondering if I made the right choice getting the Civic Si. Yeah, generally, I did.

I need a daily to slowly replace my deteriorating beater, a car that can carry at least some stuff and go in any weather. The Civic Si a long term sporty daily that will last 7+ years and get tremendous mpgs with cheap insurance. Music to my ears.

I had an FRS daily back 10 years ago, and while I had fun with it, dailying it sucked for 6 months of the year. Dailying a GR86 through this Michigan winter would have sucked big time. I'm not in my 20's anymore. And that's ok because...

I have a fun RWD car already, an MR2 Spyder that I drive only in the summer. And having two similar RWD fun cars isn't the best use of my cash. Why would I want to drive two of the same car?

 

[chopsuey34]

Every investor I admire seems to have some game that he plays to keep his mind sharp. For example, Buffett is a bridge aficionado, while Marks and Taleb both have an affinity for backgammon.

Back before Covid, I tried both of these games, hoping to emulate my heroes, but I quickly lost interest and dropped them both. I attempted poker as well. I could probably learn how to calculate the probabilities required to wager appropriately, but I learned that I have no poker face, so I dropped it, too.

Now that it's wintertime, I haven't driven my sports car in several months. She’s hibernating for the next 3 months until the snow and salt disappear. Around this time of year, I start jonesing to drive her, but I have to settle on looking at aftermarket wheels for hours to get my fix instead. A few years ago, on one of these JDM benders, I realized that my investing game didn’t involve any playing cards. Instead, I use my driving to keep me sharp.

I drive aggressively, gauging time in the “danger zone” when I plan passes, evaluating the odds of dying on the fly, and discounting for unknown factors and surprises. I use home field advantage on roads I frequent which allows for greater hooliganisms (hills, dips, curves, sight lines, passing lanes, intersections, and shift points play a part). Of course, I behave more cautiously on unfamiliar roads where I don’t know these things.

I operate under the “Michigan Discount”, which states that in every situation for a given type of road, a driver should drive slower in Michigan than in other states because of the heightened risk of deer collision.

I avoid going out on “drinking holidays” like Memorial Day, July 4th, or Labor Day weekends as people tend to over-imbibe on those days. I don’t fight drunks in bars or on the road.

My current meta is driving in daylight in rural areas near farmland to lower the probability of collisions with cars and deer. And I drive alone so that no one can influence my decision making in risky situations. I don’t want to do something stupid to impress a friend or best a rival. Midnight Club contests and street racing cock fights are for amateurs with a death wish.

I’m not perfect, though. Subarus and Corvettes with vanity plates have a habit of whipping me into a fury, and the sight of anything fast on Cars & Coffee weekends brings out the killer in me. Woe to any driver in front of the devil when his blood is hot. Most of the time, though, if I’m feeling pissy, I’ll stay home and work out. I can’t assess risk when I’m hyper-aggressive.

Irving Khan, an investor who lived to the age of 109, said “the secret of investing is safety. Achieving reasonable returns and suffering minimal losses will make you a wealthy man”. Every time I go out, my goal is to make it back home safely and avoid the casket. All of these actions I've described are intended to prevent a catastrophic loss while pushing the envelope. When your life is on the line, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

 

[chopsuey34]

OFFICIAL CIVICXI TOP 5 WORST DRIVERS POWER RANKINGS:

#5 – Deer

Deer can’t drive cars, but that doesn’t stop them from getting into accidents. That earns them the first spot in our power rankings.

#4 – Chevy Equinox / Chevy Blazer / GMC Acadia

An all-too-common sight in town, these disposable rolling piles of rusting GM steel clog up our road network. Usually driven by some middle-aged mom probably on her way to Kohl's or soccer practice, it seems like every time you go out, you’ll be stuck behind one.

#3 – Nissan Altima

Altimas embody that infamous, chaotic “Altima Energy”. Stay away from Altimas if you know what’s good for you. They have redeeming qualities, however. You, too, can become a menace to society. I rented one of these for work and immediately started cutting people off. Yeah, you feel that energy? Take it. It’s yours, my Altima brother.

#2 – Slow Corvettes

People who buy performance V8’s and drive them slowly piss me off. No, I don’t care if you’re a boomer on his way to the golf course. If you’re in a Corvette, you’re driving fast. And if you’re not, I’m gonna making you.

I’m gonna shove my Japanese steel right in your stupid face, and if you wanna go, then we go, and if you don’t wanna go, then I embarrass you with my four cylinder. I don’t fight because I don’t know how to fight, but I know how to drive, so let’s go, buddy, let’s go. Just give me a reason. I set the tempo. You dance with ME!

#1 – Subarus

If there’s one car you're stuck behind going 10 under the limit, it’s a Subaru. If there’s one car you’re stuck behind hitting the brakes randomly, it’s a Subaru. If there’s one car that turns out in front of you at the last second, it’s a Subaru. These cars are driven by a bunch of inept rule followers, and somehow, you're always stuck behind them.

Subarus are usually driven under the limit by some bland looking hypermiler who thinks she's doing the planet a favor by driving an internal combustion engine car even though Subaru hasn't had any serious hybrid or EV options until 2026.

Subarus are less cool than granny panties. Speaking of, Subarus are your grandma’s favorite car.

And guess what?

Your mother doesn’t love you. Your father is ashamed of you. Your kids hate you. Your dog wants you to drive a truck. Mother Nature wants you to drive a Tesla. The trees want their ancestors back. You’re about as NPC as they come. Go drive a Toyota, those are a better value anyways, and you’ll get better gas mileage. And stop with the stealthy wealthy shtick. Just buy a damn Volvo already. You can afford it.

Subaru, out of all the crossovers, you, YOU, are the worst!!!

I hope Trump buys a Subaru just to spite you!

I'd rather drink duck diarrhea from an aardvark’s anus then drive behind a Subaru!!

Subarus piss me off so much, they make me want to run them off the road, ram them head on, smash my car into them and burn and die just so I don't have to drive behind them anymore!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

(road rage comics)

 

[Jack90210]

This is a great thread. Thanks for writing it!

 

[chopsuey34]

Spring has come. The Great Lakes are emerging from hibernation. Their surface ice is breaking up, letting freighters pass through the Soo. They’re carrying Minnesota ore, headed to smelters near Detroit or Toledo.

The snow is melting in the Lower Peninsula. Uncovered grass and bare trees have several more weeks before they sprout. Snow is replaced with rain, and the constant drizzle has been washing away a winter’s worth of road salt.

Slumbering machines have begun to rise, yawning, stretching, rubbing their eyes awake. A new driving season is here. A new season of violent and energetic adventure.

That's for later, though. Right now, these machines are starting up their morning routines. After rising, showering, shaving, and dressing, they hydrate with hot coffee and fresh oil while primping silicone wax around their headlights. In two weeks’ time, they’ll head to their high-powered jobs downtown in their sharpest suits and forged wingtips.

But as these machines prepare for a season’s work, there’s another on his way home after a long winter's graveyard shift.

He’s coming home in steel-toed boots and dirty denim jeans after working an overnight double at the local plant. He’s taken the brunt of a deep Midwestern winter and racked up hard, honest miles between October and April.

His age is starting to show: wrinkles are appearing where a smooth clear coat once was. Rust is emerging on his once taught door sills, and his suspension joints are more than a bit flabby. Getting his ass beat a couple times and stitching himself up with duct tape and zip ties hasn’t helped. His engine and transmission are still good, though. He can’t do it like he used to, but if he needs to, he can still redline like the young bucks.

He’s dead tired coming in for the season. He just wants to drink a few cold ones and pass out in bed until next winter arrives. He’s done honest work this season, earning enough to put his kids through college, and that’s all that matters. Maybe he’ll get laid off this summer or maybe not. Sufficient for tomorrow are tomorrow’s evils says the book by his bedside. He picks up the remote and puts the game on.

He settles into his parking spot for the summer and drifts off to sleep. He’s glad he’s home.

He’s the winter beater. He did what he was told, and he’ll do it again next winter and the winter after next if need be. He doesn’t need praise because he knows his worth. He knows he’ll never be like those well-dressed sports cars on the other side of the median headed to their fancy jobs. That doesn’t matter to him. He knows he helped his loved ones live their lives, even if they never noticed or thanked him for it.

And most of all, he knows there’s always a place for a good beater in the heart of a kind, loving owner. And he's right, he'll always be welcome here at home.

---

Please take a moment to show some appreciation to your beater and thank it for all it has done for you this winter. Even a small gesture goes a long way :')

 

[chopsuey34]

As I sit inside my house because this March weather stinks and because there’s still a lot of salt on the roads, I can’t stop thinking about my sports car and how much I want to drive it. I’ve decided to direct my thoughts to synthesizing two things that I think about all the time, cars and investing, to keep myself from going crazy as the driving season fast approaches.

Let’s get back to basics and use Howard Marks’ Highway Metaphor to explain how efficient markets work:

Efficient market investing is like driving down a crowded two-lane highway:

“As we drive along, we see from time to time that another lane is moving faster than ours. Just as obviously, we know that jumping to that lane is unlikely to bring much improvement. If we could switch to the faster lane while everything remained unchanged, doing so would cut my travel time. But everyone sees which lane is moving fastest, and if everyone switches into that lane, that will make it the slow lane.”

“Highways – like markets – are dynamic environments. When people flock to the fast lane, they slow it down. And with the lane they left suddenly less crowded, it speeds up. This is how the efficient market works to equalize the speed of the various lanes, thus rendering ineffective most attempts at lane-picking.”

“The key to getting to your destination faster is to find inefficiencies. Go where others won't.”

You can drive on the shoulder (illegal), go off-road through the forest (dangerous), or attempt a shortcut with an outdated map or even without one (and risk showing up late). But everyone has GPS nowadays.

What other car metaphors can I think of to describe investing?

Your car is your financial advisor: do you need something fancy and expensive if you’re just going from A to B? Not really. (Self-directed investors are riding motorcycles)

Your gas tank is your health. It determines how far you can go, but your bladder is those distracting life events that keep you from getting to your destination.

Your passengers are your family: your kids are screaming at each other (over their inheritances) and your significant other needs to go to the bathroom again (to buy that in-ground pool you don’t need).

Deer are those idiosyncratic risks that pop up just rarely enough to remind you that your 2-ton metal cage doing 80mph can’t stop on a dime. Don’t ever forget that they exist!

And finally, using leverage is like flying a Cessna: you’ll get there faster by flying than driving, but if anything happens, you’re dead.

There’s one more thing to mention. Serious drivers can still make plenty of headway compared to everyone else with enough skill and motivation. Take for instance Cannonball Runners: a small team of people can install radar detectors, CB-radios, a roof-mounted thermal camera, and a 67-gallon fuel cell in the trunk to cross America in 25 hours and 39 minutes at an average speed of 110 mph.

----

“…your 2-ton metal cage doing 80mph can’t stop on a dime.” Or maybe it can. Going to cash is very easy. But should you? Technically, it’s safer and more optimal to hit that deer head on and let the car take the impact (i.e. firing your financial advisor). Serving away from the deer will direct you straight into a tree trunk, resulting in a more severe crash. This is like changing your asset allocation at the worst moment.

 

[chopsuey34]

It's June 20th, the longest day of the year. I'm having fun blasting around the countryside in my drop top. Maybe too much fun.

Something starts creeping in from the floorboards and enters my feet. It starts rising towards my chest. It knows that I'm having fun, maybe too much fun, and that now is the time.

It takes my hands, it grabs my heart as it metastophalizes inside me. My blood grows hotter as it continues to rise.

It reaches my head, and in a moment of weakness, I give into temptation. Flames ignite behind my eyes. The possession is complete. It has taken my soul. There is no more free will. There is no more I, there is only We, for the Devil has taken Us behind the wheel of Our convertible.

An evil smile forms. Time to have too much fun.

Down shift, open throttle, triple digit speeds. We switch the stereo from easy summer grooves to death metal. The exhaust belches sulfur fumes. We’re running hell’s octane now.

Faster, faster, We compel ourselves! Faster is funner!

We bully a Corvette off the road. Easy prey, what’s next? Red lights? Run them! Good boys don't cross double yellows, but We're not a good boy anymore.

We attempt a suicidal pass over a blind hill but something stops Us. “What's the matter? god wouldn't kill Us, would he?” We say. “We’re having lots of fun! It can’t be that bad for Us, can it?”

We want someone dead today.

We look to Our right. There's a man in white riding shotgun. Our guardian angel has arrived, and now it’s me, Him, and the enemy in my 2-seater.

We ignore salvation and turn back to the road ahead. The angel slaps my cheek.

We turn back in anger. “Fuck off!” We tell our guardian angel, “We’re having fun”.

“Fun?! Can’t you see it’s trying to kill you!”

“Away seraphim! This one's Mine, and I'm taking him with Me.”

A battle for Our soul ensues. Flames rise. We get up to 120. Come out of him! We stomp brakes to 35. Angel and demon struggle as We stare down the road, conflicted, frozen. It’s too much. We slam the brakes at the next junction. Our Lady of Consolation is looking down on Us from the hill. It can’t be a coincidence.

We summon the effort to save Our soul and pull into the church parking lot. The angel takes Our left arm and pulls Us toward the church. The demon grabs my right arm and drags me back toward the car. My will restored, only by Grace do I make it inside. The demon pounds the door in anger but waits outside, peering in through the windows. There’s still a chance for damnation.

50 Hail Marys and 5 Our Fathers exorcise my soul. My guardian angel looks at me with a sigh of relief.

Time to go home. Leaving the chapel, I spot the demon leaning against my ride.

"Don’t You remember how much fun We were having?” it yells and starts walking towards me.

I give it a wide berth and speed off.

But as I drive home, I downshift and enter the first curve too quickly. I look to my right and see my man in red. I high-five Our demon pal, and We’re back to having too much fun.

 

[chopsuey34]

I press in the clutch and turn the key. The engine ignites. I shift into 1st and pull away. The motor’s cold, I’m taking it easy. I shift into 2nd. The revs climb and I shift into 3rd. I take the next curve and my speed keeps rising. There’s slower traffic up ahead. I downshift and take a right. The engine’s warm now. I open the throttle. 2nd, 3rd, 4th, my speed keeps rising.

I’m cruising at 80mph. The engine settles in at 4,000 rpm. Its frequency resonates through the subframe and into my body. I feel it purr. The exhaust note is coming in through the firewall. The induction sound is right behind my left ear. Vulpeck’s “Tee Time” is blasting. Everything is harmonizing.

The shifter feels easy, the front end feels sharp, the car feels eager today.

There’s more traffic up ahead. Fuck this, I’m not waiting. I downshift and hear the backfire pop.

I hit the gas. The car leaps forward. I bang off redline, the exhaust roaring behind. My heart is pounding. My eyes zero in. My aggression soars as I approach. I make the first pass, then a double pass, then a triple pass. Empty road in front of me. Yung Bae’s “LIGHTSPEED” comes on. I feel the bass in my chest.

I rip around the next curve and the rear end steps out. I’m locked in. My right foot stays planted and I counter steer. The rear end snaps back, I step on the gas and scream down the highway, kicking up the autumn leaves lying on the road. My jaw is trembling, my teeth chattering, my lips quivering. A smile starts to form.

My eyes are watering, tears start the form. I can’t control my smile anymore, I start laughing. I can’t stop laughing. What is this?? What is this I’m feeling?!

Another curve, a tight left-hander. I slam on the brakes, the car dives forward, I downshift. The suspension compresses. I hit the apex hard.

Full throttle past the apex. I accelerate to indecent speeds. My chest feels tight. My heart skips a beat. I gasp for breath. Tears are streaming down my face. I’m not laughing anymore.

My God, what is this? What is THIS?!

I’m weeping at 95mph. I probe the depths of my soul. “No, it can’t be. Not here! Wait, please! Just a few more minutes!”

I double clutch downshift. Why not now? Let it be now. Let it be now! Oh God, this is it. And the light of confidence floods into my heart, and all the darkness of doubt is dispelled.

This is it! This is Joy!! All I feel is Joy, Joy surrounding me, Joy embracing me. My heart has been opened to the Joys of Natural Aspiration! I understand, I finally understand! This is the union of man and machine into one flesh. After years of embracing forced induction, I confess my sins and the agitation in my soul is now at peace.

How did those engineers know? How could they have created something like this, this perfect engagement I am feeling with this metal and rubber machine flying down the road at 85 mph in Rockford, Michigan.

-----

Happy Easter!

 

[chopsuey34]

The problem with having a fun daily is I want to joy ride both my sports car and my Si. My next daily needs to be the most boring, plush, npc car so I don't drive around for 2 hours on a Friday evening in both cars.

 

[chopsuey34]

I'm at speed, heading east on Cascade out of the city. I pass Whitneyville and pick up the pace into the countryside. It's 7:30pm. The sun is at my back illuminating everything in a golden glow.

<click> Transition by SG Lewis starts to play past Alden Nash. Funky bass lines to start the night, nice.

<click> I’m on Grand River stuck behind a Model A. Alice by Mcbaise plays while I’m waiting behind this geezer. I guess it’s cooler than the red Europa I saw back in Lowell. I pass at the first opportunity.

<click> I’m north of Saranac on Hawley Highway. Driving with the top down through these cornfields listening to White Horses by Wolf Alice makes me feel like James Dean. I get reckless out on the open road. I take it up past 100mph.

<click> I’m on 5 Mile west of Smyrna with Little Bit Of Love – No Suits Remix by Magic City Hippies on. I pass St. Patrick's church. James Dean was killed in a car wreck. Huh. I slow it down.

<click> I turn north on Ramsdell. At Night by Shakedown is up next. Wait, is that a Porsche 356 Speedster? I can smell fumes. It ain't a replica, holy shit. I chase it up Ramsdell. I make a pass right after the Pickerell Lake curve. The owner waves to me. I wave back.

<click> I’m headed south on Honey Creek. Giving It Up by St. Lucia kicks in. I push triple digits and make a roller coaster out of Honey Creek’s hills. As I pass gaps in the forest canopy, warm golden rays blind me with a morse code kaleidoscope.

<click> Like Cleopatra by Babe Rainbow plays while I cruise Ada Drive. Damn, let me just groove for a minute. Some people collect tattoos. I’m collecting tinnitus. It grows slightly louder each year, but I don’t mind. This song kicks.

<click> I'm ripping 115mph down the Cascade I-96 on-ramp, merging right under the sign while Deadstick by KGLW blasts. I just saw a deer 2 minutes ago, where is my discipline?

<click> I’m slow rolling through East. Relationships by HAIM comes on. Man, this is some girlie shit. I wonder what my ex up to? Maybe I should I call her up? Well… maybe not…

<click> Sleepy Tom’s Real Love Club Mix pumps up Coit. The dopamine’s hitting. I’m in my feelings right now, but I’m in this sports car. There’s nothing to do but drive fast. I charge into a blind right-hand curve while passing a Corvette on the left. Fuck, that was stupid. I shouldn’t do that again.

<click> The sun’s setting. One more high-speed run through the Pettis-Egypt Valley-Honey Creek loop. Minor synth chords from Jamie XX’s Waited All Night Solomun Remix v11 pulse from my cabin at 128 bpm, disturbing gated communities.

<click> I’m twilight cruising up East Beltline, headed home. I Need the Answer by Durand Jones & The Indications has been playing for a while now. Should I move to Chicago and make shit loads of money? Is that what I want? Would that make me happy? I don’t really know…

As the chorus begins, Durand Jones and Aaron Frazer come in singing:

"I need the answer,
I need the answer,
I need the answer,
someone tell me…"

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<click> Say Your Prayers by Neil Francis has been playing on repeat for the past 20 miles. You know what, I think everything will be all right.

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