“Jaws” on Land, or Prius Rant No. 2
So yesterday I developed an urge to make salsa. If you actually know me, you understand how absurd this is. My skills in the kitchen consist of operating the microwave (at which I am merely proficient, not talented) and opening Diet Coke cans (at which I am a master). Deciding to make homemade salsa was not only an action 180 degrees removed from my usual habits, it also meant I needed to buy…well, everything. Like a blender. So I trudged off to Target to buy one.
All of this to say – my need for homemade salsa resulted in an encounter with my nemesis, the Toyota Prius. You may recall my earlier, rather firm thoughts on the Prius. Suffice it to say, my opinion of the Prius has not softened. If anything, each day that I pass a Prius going 55-60 mph on the interstate (which is every day!), I hate it a little more.
And now… Now I have learned about a startling and sinister characteristic of the Prius that makes me even more suspicious of it. As I exited the Red MINI in the Target parking lot and turned in the direction of the store, blender in mind and already muttering to myself (Did I mention I am also not a fan of Target? Although I hate Wal-Mart even more than the Prius…), I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a Prius driving down the parking lot row, headed in my same direction. Rather than walk in front of it to cut across the parking lot toward the Target entrance, I walked next to the parked cars, giving the amorphous toaster an opportunity to drive past me so I could cut in behind it and continue on my quest unmolested.
And yet, nothing. The Prius didn’t pass me, nor did I hear it behind me. Given the DEAD SILENCE, I assumed it must have parked in one of the several empty spots next to the Red MINI.
As I turned to cut across the row in the hunt for my future blender, I noticed, with no small amount of dismay, that the Prius WAS STILL THERE. It was creeping up behind me, as stealthily as the shark in Jaws. It was SILENT.
The Prius in motion (slow motion!) is effing SILENT. As in, NO SOUND. This may not be technically correct. It may emit a noise that dogs and Cylons can hear. But I, a living, breathing, Cadillac exhaust-loving human, cannot. That Prius was STALKING me down a row of parked cars. In front of Target. I felt like Prius prey. Let me tell you, for a gearhead who loves meaty engines and snarling exhausts, and whose idea of going out with a bang is being obliterated by the front fender of a Lamborghini going 200 mph, being Prius prey is a little degrading. It must be how those kings and princes felt back in the Middle Ages when they would die from things like a blister, instead of being eaten by a lion.
I inwardly glared at the silent, sharky Prius and looked to its “driver” (more like toaster operator) to determine her intentions. Now that the sinister clownfish and I were on a level playing field, I was prepared to do battle with this silent, creeping enemy. I figured if the toaster tried to soundlessly run me over, I would hop up on the hood and jump up and down on the “engine,” which would immediately surrender, collapse and start crying. That would be fun. Like biting the shark first, I guess?
Instead the toaster operator gestured for me to cross and I did so, peripheral vision locked and loaded. The toaster/clownfish glided silently past me and disappeared into soundless oblivion. I went inside and bought a blender.
The salsa was damn good.