Where Do You Want To Go?

Because today's a relatively quiet day for me (meaning I have time to waste making posts on this blog), and because I know you all care enormously about my personal life, or even live vicariously through me, and because I can't post about rising fascism or the loveliness of Paris all the time, I wanted to share with you my excitement at being the owner of a brand new Toyota Prius. Mrs. G and I made the decision to buy one in August, and it took almost six weeks to arrive after we ordered it, but it's finally here. We've had the car for a week and a half now, and I just love it. It's been close to 20 years since I've owned a brand new, right off the lot vehicle (the last one was a year old when we bought it), and the smell alone is worth the price of this month's payment.

There are so many bells and whistles on this car I hardly know where to begin. It's like I'm now driving George Jetson's car. I can make the sound of the stereo move all over the inside, focusing on the front or back, driver's side or passenger side. There's a talking navigational system that tells me how to get virtually anywhere, and identifies local shops and restaurants and such. A readout on the dash screen (there's a dash screen!) tells me what my mileage per gallon is at any given moment, and what the average is. When I put the car in reverse, a camera on the underside of the back bumper shows me what's behind me. It starts with the push of a button -- no key turned, no gas pedal depressed, no choke -- and is virtually silent at low speeds. The mileage it gets is amazing, and is especially welcome in these days of arm and a leg pricing at the gas pump.

One thing that is taking some getting used to is that it is an automatic. In all my years of driving, since I was 15 and my mother handed me the keys to our '71 VW van and said, "Here, drive yourself to school, you'll learn," I've always driven a car with a standard transmission. The first car that I actually owned myself was a '52 Plymouth that my grandfather gave me when he could no longer drive it, and ever since, I've only had cars that required me to push in the clutch and shift gears manually. Driving the Prius, I occasionally find myself reaching for that non-existent stick shift, and my left leg is seriously atrophying from disuse.

But it handles really well, is quick and more than powerful enough for my needs. I've had no problems at all driving on even the steepest of San Francisco hills -- and I have to say that it's a lot easier negotiating some of the more vertiginous ones without having to play the game of holding the car almost in gear while trying not to slide backwards into the bay or popping the clutch and stalling out at the crest of a hill. And man, is it comfortable.

In the past, I've never been a fan of extended warranty options and that sort of thing, but with this car I made an exception. It's covered for seven years, and the regular servicing is included in the monthly payment. So I can take it to any Toyota dealer, anywhere, and get pretty much anything that might happen to be wrong with it fixed whenever I need to.

So that's my story, and I'm stuck with it. Happily!