In 1991, I was interested in two things: mountain bikes and fast cars. Back then I was a freshly minted teenager, in that transitional stage of male adolescence when toys no longer held my interest and girls were new and dauntingly sophisticated creatures, whose logic (and soft parts) were beyond my grasp. Bikes and cars, however, filled the void.
Mountain bikes provided freedom, taught self-reliance, and satisfied my early taste for speed. They were easy to understand and sexy in their own right, especially in the early 90s when they underwent a technological rebirth. Enthusiasts like me bore witness to such advancements as indexed shifters (27 speeds at the click of a thumb), front and rear suspension (pioneered by Rock Shox), and frames and components made from exotic materials like carbon fiber and titanium. These were heady times and it was hard not to get caught up in it all.
Cars conveyed a similar, if more exotic, level of excitement. Though I was too young to drive, I was old enough to be intoxicated by the shapely forms of Porsche, Lamborghini, and Ferrari. My infatuation began in the late 80s, first with car magazines and then with TV, notably-Miami Vice. Say what you will about crime fighters dressed in sherbet-colored suits and espadrilles, but you'll never convince me that a brooding Don Johnson, cruising in his Daytona Spider to the backbeat of Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight," wasn't the very essence of cool.
I devoted the walls of my room to both of these interests, clipping shots of the latest bikes from GT, Klein, and Gary Fisher. I did the same with all the big car magazines of the time. But my most precious gallery space was taken up by the popular posters of that era; the famous 'Dream Garage' illustration as well as the standard mall-sourced Lamborghini Diablo and Ferrari pinups. But it wasn't the Germans or Italians that got me hooked for life-it was Acura.
In January of 1991, Acura ran a special advertisement in all the major car magazines, promoting the NSX. This was not just any ad; it was a gorgeous cutaway illustration of the NSX, hand drawn by the renowned automotive artist, David Kimble.
I don't remember the issue I first saw it in, but I know that I stared at the ad for hours, trying to absorb it completely. Eventually, I carefully bent back the staples and isolated Kimble's transparent goodness. Then I pinned it up, in the primo position above my stereo, and it was there to stay.
Other car and bike pictures went up, but they all came down eventually, replaced by faster, sexier models. After I got my driver's permit, posters and photos of real models replaced the mountain bikes. But that particular Kimble illustration didn't come down for over 10 years-and then only because my parents sold the house. For your benefit, and my own indulgence, I ran the illustration twice in this issue; once here, and again in our story celebrating Acura's 20th anniversary, which starts on page 102.
So why am I telling you all of this? Because it is strange to think that Acura is only 20 years old. When you're young as I was when I first saw the NSX, two decades seem like an impossibly long time. At that point, Acura was still the new kid on the block, only 5 years old. As successful as they were, they still were not taken seriously as a performance brand. That all changed the day the NSX hit the streets.
Over 10 years later, I had my first opportunity to drive a stock NSX, at the press launch of the face-lifted NSX-T. It was like living out my first crush reunion fantasy; the one where I finally meet the first girl that stole my heart, and find that she's not a chain-smoking, 300-pound single mother of three, but sweeter and even better looking than I remembered.
Though she is gone now and Acura is entering its third decade, it is hard not be impressed by all the brand has accomplished in what is actually a very short amount of time. Happy belated Birthday, Acura. I'm looking forward to 20 more years of looking, drooling, and driving.