The Prius

by Gina Hamilton
Coastal Journal editor

Well, the time finally came to bid farewell to the great white hope, the 12-year-old Mazda which is even now taking up space in my driveway until the man comes to take it away.

I went shopping, and was just about to settle for a new Yaris, which is an interesting little car that gets stellar gas mileage, when my friend Trish Hunter from Lee Toyota called me up and said, “You’re not going to believe it. We got a 2004 Prius in trade.”

Now, as anyone who knows me knows, the Prius is my dream car at the moment. It is a hybrid car that can, in its best moments, get about 60 miles to the gallon, because for about half the time it is running, it is operating on electric power.

I figured it was high time to practice what I preach ... and oh, I do preach ... in the energy and sustainability column weekly.

So I casually ... casually ... asked what the likely price of the car would be.

It was just ... just ... within my particular ballpark.

I know that Trish wanted that car. But she, unlike me, had a car that would move at the moment. So it was an act of true friendship that led her to make that call.

Well, that and the commission, I expect.

I went down to see it and couldn’t even take it for a complete test drive, because it wasn’t yet stickered. I just drove it around the lot for a while. And then I went in and filled out the paperwork.

The next day, Chris came with me, filled out his half, and the car was mine.

Now, of course, it wasn’t as easy as that. Chris worried about the price, he worried about the payments, he worried about the increase in the cost of our insurance. I swore I would take a part time job if I had to. He relented when I said I would work at MacDonalds until 1 a.m. if necessary.

Over lunch, he accused me of letting him buy his dream car just so I could buy mine. “Nonsense,” I said. “I didn’t want the great white hope to die. I was just getting used to that car.”

Now, the 12-year-old Mazda is a priceless little thing ... it has duct tape on the bumper from when the car rolled down the hill on its own, and four-year-old political bumper stickers, and the key is broken off in the trunk because Rudie jumped up on me when I was taking my boat and tote out of the trunk we went to the beach this summer. It remains to be seen if I can get it out this weekend before the car goes. I hope I can, because I think that one of Rudie’s dog bowls is in there, and I know that my electric windshield scraper is in there and probably both of my snow brushes, and why replace them if I don’t have to?

The car has been giving me trouble since early fall, when it started overheating. I later learned that the water pump is leaking, and a new one would have cost about $400. So, like a trooper, I switched to non-toxic coolant, kept a bottle in my back seat, and kept driving it. Then, the starter stopped starting. No problem! I parked on hills most of the time, and popstarted it when necessary. And got pushes from kindly folks like photographer Guy Marsden and Councilor Todd McPhee if I happened to be on level ground. And if all else failed, I could call Geico to come help.

But it was actually getting annoying, wondering if my car would start when I left it for a few minutes, and because of the overheating thing, I couldn’t just leave it running. Also because the parking brake has never worked. And it wasn’t environmentally friendly to do it anyway.

So I didn’t go very far away from home if I could help it. Which does put a cramp in the reporting thing.

That shouldn’t be a problem now.

So I took the car with me to work and then came home and invited Chris to take a drive with me. We had to get dog food and cat food and Halloween candy anyway, so off we went. He was facinated by all the bells and whistles, but was amused when I couldn’t figure out how to start the car when we came out of the store. I will have to read my book, I guess, and maybe ask Trish for some more lessons.

Eventually, I did manage to start the thing. The car tells you exactly how many miles per gallon you are driving at any given moment, which is mesmerizing. It varies, of course, depending on whether you are using the electric motor or the gas motor or just coasting downhill.

But one can’t spend one’s whole life coasting downhill. So when I know what my mileage is, I will let you know, and probably preach a little bit more. And if you see me in my shiny new car, feel free to hail a ride.