2008 Toyota Prius Review: Part 3

Oh those zany Priuses(or perhaps Priusi) and their dazzling characteristics! Did you know that putting the key in the ignition isn’t even necessary for operating the car? Are you fascinated by the fact that the large and flat windshield is so incredibly large and flat that I was unable to squeegee the whole thing from one side of the vehicle? We’re you aware that the car is capable of driving on both land and sea?

The Prius steering wheel is abundantly functional with buttons that control nearly every necessary function pertinent to driving the car. From the steering wheel you can adjust the climate control, interchange between information and mapping screens, jimmy with the audio volume, cd tracks, and do a radio station scan. There is also a voice command function for the mapping system and Heck! From the steering wheel you can even honk the horn! Aside from it’s surplus of functions and the oh-so-soothing feel of the plastics, I find the wheel super duper ugly, ungainly. It makes me long for the days of non-air bagged, spoked(and possibly wooden), steering wheels that you were able to slip your hands into and around the column like slipping your hands around the waist of some sweet little thing. Pardon my digression, but it brings up a good point. As far as I can tell the Prius cannot be considered sexy by any means, though some greenies may disagree. Though if you gave it a leather interior, attractive rims, and some red lipstick tactfully placed pin striping, the Prius might just …no….no wait, it still wouldn’t look good.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Part 2

Now, when you’re sitting in the cockpit of the Prius you immediately understand that you are in ethereal machine.
You feel bad for wearing leather;
You suddenly want to become a vegan;
You are unknowingly planning your pilgrimage east to find enlightenment.
All of this goes away however, when you push the giant computer looking power button and a bunch of cool things light up and beep. There is a large information screen surrounded by buttons in the center of the dash. The area directly in front of the steering wheel where you would usually find your gauges(an area I like to refer to as the ‘Naked Mole Rat region’ of this vehicle) is devoid of anything but dark, matted, plastic dash material. There is a digital readout very near the windshield of the car, very near to one’s line of sight. Although this is out of the ordinary, I found it very convenient and unobtrusive to the driving experience. The dashboard also contains a radio with very few buttons, leading one to assume that it is voice activated. After barking commands at the radio for 5 min and then expressing my relational troubles to it for the next half an hour, I found that the Prius audio system, to my dismay, is NOT voice activated.

The Information screen is the centerpiece of the dash for sure, if not the centerpiece of the car itself. One screen option graphs the last 30min of driving activity and efficiency. Another screen, fascinating to me, offered instant MPG readouts and funky little graphics of turning wheels, turning motors, and exciting, dotted lines in motion that connected them all. This screen showed where and when the power was being produced and regenerated; it was energy porn in the purest sense. There is also GPS navigation available on the Information screen, as well as climate control and Audio settings. All in all, there is enough gadgetry there to keep two teenage chimps busy for 5-7 min. It kept me busy for about 13 hours.

2008 Toyota Prius Review: Pt 1

I drove one!(Imagining simultaneous boos and cheers) It wasn’t across a mere parking lot either, it was hundreds and hundreds of miles down Interstate 35 on my way towards We-bathe-in-oil-’round-here-Oklahoma. So I am hereby submitting this as my official 2008 Toyota Prius review.

The oil derricks we passed in Kansas and Oklahoma had a sort of hidden malice about them and most of them laughed as we drove past. At first I thought this was because we were achieving around 45 MPGs and we were stickin‘ it to them, but really those derricks were laughing because a Toyota Prius looks so damn stupid! What the hell was thing modeled after!? Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters trapped underneath a giant bowl!? Yes, that’s it….a giant wheeled bowl with ugly stepsisters; I knew I had seen it somewhere before.

Every time I walk up to the car I want to reprimand it and send it away like the neighbor’s homely dog. “No! Bad! Go home! ….You’re Bad!”. I truly dislike everything about the car’s exterior, from the way-bigger-than-ever-necessary clear taillights to the poorly thought out rims. It’s exoskeleton is everything a car shouldn’t be, it’s styling is reminiscent of futuristic thinking. It’s not the cool futuristic thinking that we all find so rad, like being aboard the Starship Enterprise or riding our Hoverboard with Marty McFly. No, it’s more like the futuristic styling from RoboCop….totally dumb. Unfortunately, The Toyota Prius takes no cues from the wonderful world of automobilia. But why am I wasting my time telling you this? It’s common knowledge for most of you, unless your blind; or an NPR supporter.

The first thing I noticed when I plopped into the drivers’ seat was the visibility. I can’t say that it’s necessarily bad, I can say, however, that I don’t like it. There are windows everywhere, none of which offer a good view of the world that you are supposedly saving. There is a rearview camera that activates automatically when reverse is engaged due to the poor visibility in back. The Prius has the dorkiest A and C pillar windows that I have ever seen. Little glass triangles on all four corners of the car that do….nothing. As worthless as a tits on a screen door…oh wait, I mean as worthless as a boar on a submarine,…yeah, that’s better.

Rattle and Whistle

It may be true that you will learn to despise any person after you’ve spent enough time with them. Reason is thrown to the wayside in that moment of hate when you have finally reached a breaking point with your unavoidable companion. You even contemplate murder, or at least imagine an unfortunate workplace accident, alien abduction, or spontaneous combustion. We’ve all had this happen, no matter how nice you are.
My morning routine is beginning try me. I’m working on the road, spending most of my waking moments with one man, my boss, essentially. He is charismatic at the outset, funny, jolly, even fascinating at times. Now, however, after weeks with him and only him, my toleration is begging for rest. He’ll show up at my hotel door, 7.30am, bright and bubbly. I on the other hand, am grim, groggy; bracing myself for his cheery morning comment and shit eating grin. His words annoy me for no good reason.
We eat breakfast.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
We drive to the AFB.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
I begin to wake up. I begin to be more cordial.
We arrive at the AFB hospital
The song that was last playing on the radio of our rental car as we park at the hospital becomes the absolute bane of my workday.

He whistles it.

It’s not even a whistle, it’s that feeble, airy, seemingly unobtrusive, half whistle. It’s weak and in my ear for the duration of the morning. I’ll try to defer him by singing a catchy tune of my own, or by whistling like any decent person whistles.
No dice.
“WHISTLE LIKE A MAN, YOU TURD!” I utter in my head.
The worst part?
The worst part is that it’s never the entire song. In fact, it’s not even close to the entire chorus! It’s one part of it, over and over again. Nonsensical parts of the chorus spliced together, made into a death march chant. “whooh whowhooooooo, whooah, whoooooooooooo”
A small list is building inside of my mind now of songs that are ruined forever as a direct result of this phenomenon.

Today, at lunch in the cafeteria, we watched coverage of the Olympic Games.
….
Do you have any idea at what speed the Olympic theme music can become annoying?
Imagine hearing it continuously on a loop for nearly an hour and a half after your lunch break.
Now, instead of hearing noble trumpets blasting it in perfect tune, replace it with a dry, pathetic, reaching for life ‘whrrrrroooooaaah’.

Add the tooth-gnashing intensity of 1,000 mosquitoes hovering around your head.

I wanted to jam #2 pencils into my ears.

“Whooo WHOO wh whoo wha wha wha, wh wh wh wh WH wh whwhWHWHwh wh whooooooaaaahh”
Again.

And again.

And Again.

I now harbor the same hate for the Olympic theme music that the Menards employees harbor for the cheery, banjo driven “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENAAAAARDS!” theme music that plays every 45 seconds in their stores.

*no title*

….There was a motorcycle battery gingerly teetering on the dashboard of this mid nineties Dakota, I watched it whenever I pushed the accelerator with my toes so as to not have it tumble down to the seat only to bounce up and crinkle itself upon landing on the passenger floor. The truck was a turd, a real embarrassment. On some of the colder days I would keep it idling as I dropped off a part for delivery and it would kind of gallop along for awhile and then almost stop, like a washing machine in between cycles, you’d be ready to write it off as dead when all of the sudden “whoa!” with a blast it’d take off again.

4 Litle Things That Drive Me Batty

1. Hair stuck to my soap: I realize I've been talking about soap far too much lately, however I want to say that having little hairs plastered to my soap drives me batty. Sometimes I spend more time in the shower trying to remove the hairs from my Zest bar than I do cleaning my bod. It's just so gross to pick up a hairy bar of soap.

2. Tube Tops: I really do not understand these things. They always looks so stupid and uncomfortable. I get strapless dresses, they look fantastic! Tube tops though,....uck! They drive me batty! They are just a tube of fabric that offers a whole lot of nothing, it's like shrink wrap for a woman's torso.

3. Fat People in those collapsible camping chairs: I usually see this prior to parades or outdoor concerts when folks are nabbing a prime piece of real estate to watch something great. Turns out I'm probably way out of line on this one, but it seems to me that it's so typical and it drives me batty! The ones that bother to come early and set up chairs are the fat ones. Arduously overflowing from the sides of their red Coleman chair which is straining to keep everything together....poor chair.

4. Anytime that an emcee or announcer has to use a piece of paper to address an audience: Look, if you have the balls to speak publicly at least have the courtesy to talk to your audience. I'm not suggesting that public speakers should memorize everything that they want to say. I am suggesting, on the other hand, that if I see another public speaker with his head in some piece paper, reading directly from it, I....I....well, I can't say what drastic things I may do. Probably just sit there quietly, angrily judging him and his poor speaking skills....all while being driven batty.

Thanks For Securing My Bathing Future

Shortly after my recent question about washcloths, two friends informed me that they also do not use a washcloth and instead favor the good ol' bar of soap. Though I suspect, if given the opportunity, they would cast aside the bar of soap if a soap-on-a-rope was available. I can't really fault them for this,...I mean, really. Who doesn't like soap-on-a-rope?