FREAKY PRIUS

SUV’s are great protection on the road, but only if you’re inside them. Their safety rating goes down considerably for people in the parking lot, short people, human objects the size of children whose heads are hopelessly below the bumpers. I ride so high in my behemoth automobile I could go out running over polar bears and not even feel it. Consequently, I drive perpetually in roaring first gear, tiptoeing through the parent pick-up circle, around Little League fields and to and from soccer. And in-between I’m stuck in traffic. My average speed is idle and I put a second mortgage in the tank every time I stop at the pump, but it’s better than the alternative.

Recently I had the unglorious opportunity to drive a Prius, truly a freak of automotive nature. While this gas unguzzling hybrid may be green-friendly, it puts the “poor” in “transpoortation.” Freaky Prius is so quiet it sneaks up on people, you could startle a squirrel! You never know whether the thing is on or off. I keep trying to restart at stoplights after it shudders to its electric mode. It has the stealth of a golf cart, and the acceleration of one too. And you never know what gear you’re in, except reverse, which beeps LOUDLY and displays the view at the base of the back bumper, which is the same perspective you could get if you just look down your shoulder blade. I never know when I step on the gas if we’re going to go forward or jump sideways. With that car, I wouldn’t be surprised at anything. The display gives your fuel consumption or GPS position. You dust the touch screen and it gives you the fuel consumption of the satellite tracking you. Furthermore, there’s no place to put the key in the ignition. You put the key in the cup holder. What’s there to keep you from walking away from the car without turning it off? Public service for someone to steal it, I suppose.

For my next car, I swear I’m going to be able to front end parallel park, but I won’t be driving a Prius. For my next car, I’m going to drive a Mini.