AS humans ravage the planet like there's a spare behind the moon, we are losing endangered species almost every other week.
We have been bombarded with advertisements to donate and help save some rare otters, a particularly distinguished owl species or maybe a ridiculously photogenic breed of field mouse.
So much so that the term "endangered species" is in danger of becoming meaningless.
But today, we are going to change that. We are going to try and make a real difference in the lives of everyone that matters: the petrolheads.
In a world that is fast going vegan and ready to consume any meat substitute, we need to drag common sense back to the centre stage and make it known that we are not willing to lose any more endangered and rare species like the Honda Prelude.
We are starting off this series with the Honda Prelude because it is a much-misunderstood model that everyone loves to hate and no one wants to save.
The Prelude is to Honda what the Celica is to Toyota.
As someone who is not a fan of football, I would very much like to misappropriate, and very likely misuse, a football metaphor to describe the Prelude.
If the Celica is the star striker, the Prelude is like that really good looking player who made it onto the bench but not quite good enough to be on the field. Basically, just handsome enough for the coach to tell him to keep trying.
If I can further paint a clearer picture of the Prelude by misappropriating a parenting metaphor, it's that the Prelude is the Supra that Honda wished it had.
The first-generation Prelude was born in 1978 and led a hard life from the word go. It was as if Honda wanted him to suffer by sending him out into the big bad world as a compact coupe wearing hand-me-downs that looked like hand-me-downs.
The single large headlamps and black grille bridge and boxy roofline with undecided rump meant the original Prelude came to the party wearing horn-rimmed glasses and big brother Accord's ill-fitting blazer.
Thankfully, no one bullied him because he just blended in the background and was promptly forgotten once let in. A bit of good luck there.
The second Prelude was given a bit more of a chance. This time, Honda made sure that he got a very good nose job before he was introduced to the world. They gave it pop-up headlamps.
The bonnet was pushed down so much that it squeezed the engine sideways. That lowered nose meant that cheap Macpherson struts couldn't fit. Therefore, Toyota designed a proper set of double wishbone front suspension.
This Prelude actually drove right but the problem is Honda also gave its Civic and Accord models double wishbones, too, and they had far more hidden talents than just a pretty face.
So while Prelude was given really nice shoes, it wasn't sent to a good running coach and his athletic abilities were limited to the grunt of a two-litre engine. In the end, he was left huffing and puffing at every tryout.
It wasn't a pretty sight and few petrolheads believed that Honda was serious about producing a decent sports coupe. If a petrolhead bought a Prelude, he would have kept it a secret.
So Honda dealers had to resort to selling it to follicle artists and pretty boys with good bone structure who spent way too much time in aerobics class wearing neon-coloured headbands. It was brutal.
The third-generation Prelude was given the world's first four-wheel steering system, with the rear tyres pointing in all sorts of ways depending on the mood.
It was much like showing up at a jock party holding a Nintendo Gameboy.
The reviews came up with new disparaging remarks specially for the Prelude and Honda had no good comebacks. To be fair, Celicas of this era were also unfortunate in the looks department but boy, they really run on rally tracks.
Becoming world champion is a good way to shut them up and the Prelude didn't even get a proper chance to compete anywhere.
The Civic was the athlete of the litter and that meant the Prelude had to live with the pretty boy nerd title yet again.
With the fourth Prelude, Honda decided against making him a pretty boy and, as expected, the result was a car that was not pretty and had a modest performance advantage over the sedan and hatchbacks of the family.
It didn't help that Nissan Sylvia, which had a girl's name, had rear wheel drive.
And every petrolhead can tell you that a long-shaft counts for more than a fancy engine. So the Prelude stayed on the bench, only this time he had fewer reasons to look into the mirror.
Honestly, the fifth and final Prelude looked like Honda was just taking it out on their own child. It looked like the parents shopped for their son's clothes at the same thrift store they went to for the first one.
It was blessed with so many uncomfortable angles that photographers were known to contort themselves into equally uncomfortable positions just to minimise the ugly.
However, just because a car is uninteresting doesn't mean that it is not worth saving.
The VTEC engine sings a decent tune, the suspensions let you dance in corners and the slippery silhouettes means it looks like it is going moderately fast even when standing still.
So I urge you to cast aside your prejudices and go find a Prelude to save.
