Prius Rant No. 1
My opinions on the Toyota Prius approach the level of Greek tragedy. I believe that, with the Prius (wonderfully pronounced “PRY-us” by those trusty ranters over on Top Gear), Toyota is seeking to leach all beauty, excitement, spontaneity, speed, performance, imagination and joy out of the automobile, using the word “green” as cover. In short, Toyota is trying to ruin the world and piss me off, co-opting my favorite color in the process. This leads to ranting.
Nowhere is Toyota’s diabolical scheme more apparent than from the driver’s seat of the Red MINI. Nestled into my sport bucket seats, my hands gripping the sport steering wheel, my foot twitching on the accelerator, I survey the countless hybrid lemmings loitering on the highway, humming along to the drone of their batteries, self-satisfied bumper stickers holding the various plastic parts of the Prius exterior together like so much spit and chewing gum, the smug little tailpipe excreting daisies and dandelions. Enraging.
It wouldn’t be so bad if these soulless appliances would stay in the slow lane as God intended. I have even been known to send appreciative glances to a Prius that knows its place. Mainly because very few of them do. I have lost count of the number of toasters on wheels that clog the fast lane, MY lane, physically blocking my access to home, hearth and sanity. And it’s not like they moved into the fast lane to pass a slower vehicle, then sank into a muddle of obliviousness as the Red MINI bore down on them. No, Suburbans do that. And I am willing to forgive the Suburbans. No – the Prius chooses the fast lane ON PURPOSE and STAYS there ON PURPOSE, going 65 mph ON PURPOSE. The message is, Eat my daisy dust, you planet-killing yokels. My selfless (and self-righteous) sacrifices will save the planet, and then I will be the cool kid.
By this point, I have suffered a coronary and am waiting patiently in the local emergency room (see self-portrait above) to be examined by a physician who is both younger than me and utterly worthless, as his only solution is prescriptions. But doctor, I protest, the only thing that will cure my condition is the removal of all Priuses from the surface of the Earth. Would you please send Toyota a doctor’s note?
I now have a variety of medications, dear readers, but my condition continues unabated.
What are we to do with this scourge of the earth? Please note that I do not tar all alternative-fuel vehicles with the same brush (although I may have done so publicly on another occasion). I have read magnificent things about the Tesla Model S. I completely and whole-heartedly support innovation and creativity in car design, whether it applies to fuel economy, driving dynamics or cupholders. I appreciate daisies and bunny rabbits and Bambi and being a responsible citizen of Planet Earth. But don’t lobotomize my car because it’s the politically faddish thing to do. I may have to kick you with the Sam Edelmans. And that hurts, let me tell you.
I should mention that a few of the people I know and love are Prius owners. I do not judge them. This folly is not their fault. They have been brainwashed by a corporation so evil it appears benign. It is NOT benign, my friends, it is MALIGN. Step. Away. From. The. Prius.
As a side note, I do acknowledge that I was once passed by a Prius. I was driving the Blue MINI to San Antonio on a Friday evening – not slowly – when a red Prius
raced zipped sped hamster-wheeled by me. Naturally, this meant the Prius was going faster than me. Needless to say, I was rather embarrassed and ashamed by this turn of events. However, all was quickly made right in the world, as the red Prius was pulled over for speeding by a highway patrolman not 15 seconds later. Given that the highway patrol normally lies in wait for me, I felt this to be a noble act of sacrifice on the part of the red Prius, and as I passed the little toaster, wheezing on the side of the road, I mustered all my dignity and said, “Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!”
Your move, Prius.
And this is exactly why I love you, Anna ❤
Automobile Magazine described it as being behind a station wagon towing a load of chandeliers. I grimace at them … and judge them… all the time from the sports seats (plaid, of course) of The Schnozz, my white GTI.
You crack me up, A/B. And great choice on the plaid-on-white GTI! Absolutely my choice if there were no Red MINI. 🙂