I saw the car just ahead of us, a dark red Honda.

We can't go knocking at bloody doors asking for the owner of the red Honda to come out.

He worked a brick free and walked casually over to the red Honda.

A little red Honda was pulling over into the lane to my right.

They were in a white van bearing the name of a church and in a red Honda.

He'd stolen the red Honda from the restaurant on the beach.

She saved her money and got the red Honda, a wonderful bike.

The little red Honda bounced and rattled across potholes so deep that the entire vehicle was coated with muddy splash.

Ahead of me, in a red Honda, a woman with long dark hair was looking in a compact and adjusting her lipstick.

As she reached the truck, she saw a man getting out of a red Honda parked beside her.