It’s a sentiment that pays homage to the pioneers of Honda performance who sorted out things like B-series engine transplants and Integra brake swaps without so much as a Google search or a forum scroll simply because Google searches and forum scrolling had yet to exist, as had B-series engine transplants and Integra brake swaps. Want to test your Honda engine swapping acumen? Put down the laptop and see whether or not you’ve got the wherewithal to figure yours out.
As it turns out, Weir’s got the ability to sort out a swap like this, but it’s been a long time coming. “I wanted an affordable, sporty two-seater, and was considering the MR2 [and] the CRX,” he says about the RWD seed that was planted in his head some 20 years ago when, for practicality’s sake, he sided with the Honda. “I’ve always liked the shape and look of the CRX,” Weir says. “It was sporty, but [it] still had utility. I once stuffed a king-size bed frame from Ikea [in it] and drove it home with my roommate.”
But you don’t care about how well a box full of particleboard furniture made by a bunch of Swedes fits in the back. How exactly that longitudinally mounted F-series made its way into that ’80s-era engine bay is a whole lot more exciting. And intimidating.
“The first cut in the firewall with the plasma [cutter] was the hardest,” Weir says about the irreversible changes he’d begun to make, changes that led to a now turbocharged 2.2L mill that’s good for 330 hp by way of the S2000’s gearbox that transmits most of the 230 lb.-ft. of torque through a custom driveshaft and past a Nissan rear end. It’s all very much in stark contrast to the car’s initial mods—a short-ram intake, header, and bolt-on exhaust—made some 19 years back that Weir commissioned his brother to install for him. Today, with the exception of a bit of machining help from his father-in-law and wiring and tuning assistance from friends, Weir’s done most of the work himself.
“I had no idea what I was doing in the beginning,” Weir admits without shame about the conversion that he says was initially supposed to promote his former online business, Weirtech, that specialized in more than 150 different automotive flanges he’d machine himself. Weir’s father-in-law and business partner, Frank, was according to Weir, his constant motivator, continually asking him: “Will it ever run?”
It finally did run, but it didn’t happen overnight. Weir started the project in earnest in 2007, finished it some five years later, drove it into a ditch, rebuilt it, and today is continuing to make tweaks to finesse things you’d never think about, like bump steer variances that occur when relocating the CRX’s steering rack and rear suspension geometry that Weir says “was really just an exercise in trial and error.”
“I didn’t know much about cars in 1996,” says the guy who, 20 years later, is in the process of developing his own one-off camber-compensating anti-roll bar for the CRX’s rear end that’ll maximize the tires’ contact patch during suspension travel. “I like to try different things,” Weir says. “[Now] I just need to find some time.”
You think Weir’s CRX is subjected to the track or some other modus of high-performance use and you’re mostly right. Last year he completed Canada’s Ontario 1500. But just as often he unbolts the six-point roll cage he’d fabricated himself, removes it from the car, and buckles his two kids into the European-optional rear seat. ” If the sun’s out, so is the CRX,” he says. “When I’m not making changes to it.”
“I just wanted a fun car to drive,” Weir says about the 27-year-old Honda that’s been subjected to everything from bolt ons to nitrous oxide to a boosted B17A1. “It put a smile on my face the first time I drove it home and an even bigger smile each time I get behind the wheel now.”