On the road: Honda Civic Type R 2.0 i-VTec

This hot hatch is so bright, you've got to wear shades

Why do they always come in white, these hot hatches? Ouch! Even the wheel rims are white. And so white. Whiter not just than snow. Whiter not just than white. But whiter than a soap star's teeth. Normally, a pair of sunglasses are a standard accessory when dealing with a revved-up boy-mobile. But in the case of the ultra-white Honda Civic Type R, they're more a health and safety necessity. Tinted windows don't really do the trick – the dazzle from the bonnet on a sunny day could easily laser your eyeballs. A full crack dealer's blackout appears a more sensible option.

Sometimes it does seem as if the highways are jammed with broken heroes on a last-chance power drive. There they are in their Golf GTIs and Ford Focus RSs and Toyota Priuses (OK, just kidding about the last one), full of an aching desire to floor the accelerator and break free from… what? Suburban convention? Come on. Is there anything, aside from multiplex cinemas and DIY warehouse centres, more conventionally suburban than a hot hatch?

And now Honda is squeezing in on all those clogged arteries of the urban sprawl with its very own fat slice of road cholesterol. The Honda Civic Type R 2.0 i-VTec lacks the iconic frame of the GTI and the noisy styling of the RS. It also lacks their handling. But, as these sorts of cars go, it's not unattractive. Because, let's face it, ugliness is seen as an aesthetic virtue in this area of the car market, a mark of seriousness and authentic sense of purpose.

The Type R doesn't convince on this front. The rear spoiler hardly spoils the line of the boot. The front spoiler can barely muster a stroppy pout. Nothing really says, "Get out of the way or I'm going to ruin your life and terrorise your family" the way we've come to expect from a hot hatch. But there you go, times change and new fashions emerge, and we shouldn't necessarily assume that psychopathology should be the only suitable visual language for fast-accelerating hatchbacks.

Indeed, I found the brothel-red interior of the Type R almost cosy, as though Cynthia Payne had brought her distinctive eye to the seats and floor carpet. But it's the predominance of the rev counter on the dash that most boldly states the car's, or its notional owner's, true ambitions. It sits centre stage, all but daring the driver to see how far the indicator will swivel round the dial.
To what end, though? Where is it leading, this obsession with ordinary small cars being transformed into monsters of the suburban id? I mean, this town rips the bones from your back. It's a death trap, a suicide rap. We've got to get out while we're young. That said, the Type R is a joyride to drive, if a tad stiff in the suspension.

Source;
http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2010/jan/09/honda-civic-type-r-review