There are certain things you think you know about cars. A Miata is fun. Minivans are secretly brilliant. Hondas are practical. Hondas are reliable. They start every morning, survive years of school drop-offs, and do exactly what you expect them to do.
What they don’t do, at least in my head, is climb over obstacles that make you question whether the engineers have mistaken your family SUV for something with a Jeep badge.
My first reaction when Honda pointed the Passport TrailSport toward the off-road course was to assume they were kidding. I kept waiting for someone to laugh and tell me this was all part of the joke. Instead, they looked at me like I was the unreasonable one for doubting the Honda could make it.
I Was Pretty Sure This Was A Bad Idea
The day settled into a pattern. We’d come around a corner, I’d look ahead and think, “Absolutely not,” and someone from Honda would tell me to keep going.
These weren’t simple dirt roads that any SUV could handle. They were the kinds of trails that made me stop, stare through the windshield, and think, “There’s no way we’re doing that.” Every time I was convinced we’d finally found the Passport’s limit, it simply kept going. The obstacle that looked impossible somehow became just another thing the Passport handled.
Meanwhile, I was waiting for the awful scraping noise and the embarrassing conversation about how I’d managed to break a Honda in front of the people who built it. Instead, I started realizing I had underestimated what a Honda could do.
Honda Knew Exactly What It Built
What struck me was how determined Honda was to prove that the Passport TrailSport could do more than people expected. The engineers knew exactly what they’d built, and they seemed genuinely amused that the rest of us still thought of Honda as the company that made sensible commuter cars.
They weren’t trying to convince me the Passport had become something it wasn’t. They were trying to show me that we’d all underestimated what this Honda could actually do. That confidence slowly rubbed off on me. I stopped assuming every obstacle would expose the Passport as an impostor and started trusting that it was capable. By the end of the drive, I had stopped looking for reasons it couldn’t do something and started wondering what else it could handle.
It’s Still A Honda
That’s probably the Passport TrailSport’s biggest strength. It can surprise you off road without becoming annoying everywhere else.
Once you’re back on pavement, it’s comfortable, easy to drive, and roomy enough for the whole family. The controls make sense, the V6 feels smooth, and everything is straightforward.
Most people won’t spend weekends tackling challenging off-road courses. They’ll commute to work, run errands, sit in school pickup lines, and head out on family vacations. The toughest terrain they’ll tackle is a snow-covered driveway, a muddy campsite, or the rutted road leading to a favorite hiking trail.
The Passport handles everyday life just as well as those moments, and that’s what makes it so appealing. Most people don’t want a vehicle that feels like a compromise five days a week just so they can have fun twice a year.
A Few Things Still Bugged Me
As impressed as I was, I didn’t love everything about the Passport TrailSport. The interior is practical and durable, but it doesn’t quite match the personality of the exterior. The cabin is a little more ordinary than what you’ll find in a lot of other off-road SUVs.
But this is a Honda. It needs to do double duty and deliver the refined on-road experience buyers need most days. That’s what the cabin focuses on, and it makes sense. If you want a flashy cabin, you’ll be disappointed. If you want one that can handle the messiness of everyday life, it’s excellent.
Honda’s Reputation Might Be Its Biggest Problem
Honda has spent decades building sensible vehicles, and that’s one of the reasons people trust the brand. The downside is that sensible isn’t usually the first word people associate with adventure.
I thought the Passport TrailSport would be good for a gravel road on the way to a campsite and maybe a muddy soccer field after a rainy weekend. Instead, it tackled obstacles I never would have attempted and acted like none of it was a big deal.
The Passport didn’t change my mind with a long list of specifications or a flashy presentation. It simply asked me to trust it when every instinct told me not to. Honda’s biggest problem isn’t building a capable SUV. It’s convincing people like me to believe it.
