Prius in Seattle

Prius in Seattle From Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Resolution

We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if mankind is to survive.
~Albert Einstein

My husband pushes the "start" button on the dashboard of my new car. The only sound is the rubber tires on cement as we roll out onto the street. "Don't know why we waited so long to get a hybrid," he says with a grin bigger than a kid on his first bumper car ride. "All you do is boot it up―the computer takes care of the I.C.E."

"The what?" His new car lingo stumps me every time.

"You know, the internal combustion engine."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, that."

Several months ago, the guilt started seeping in. A string of alarming TV shows on global warming and the energy crisis had me thinking green. Lowering our carbon footprint seemed like a good way to get started, so I casually dropped the comment, "Maybe we should think about trading in my car for a hybrid."

Little did I know he would take the ball and run with it so quickly. This is the man who still reminisces over his life-long love affair with cars. Photos of his 1950s high school hotrods line the walls of his workshop. Next to them, a picture from his college days, standing proudly in tie-dyed T-shirt beside his ‘57 Volkswagen Beetle. To this day he bemoans the never-ending repair bills from our series of kid-safe late ‘70s Volvo station wagons. More recently he's entered a middle-aged phase with a penchant for big trucks and sport utilities.

But the past is past. He now claims our hybrid purchase is the best automobile decision of our lives and I have to agree. Owning a hybrid has been an interesting ride. Re-learning to drive and maximize the gas mileage in "my" new car has become "his" favorite pastime.

Who knew there was a world of Internet bloggers out there calling themselves "hyper-milers?" From Saskatoon to Arkansas, armed with his handle "Prius in Seattle," my husband culls information daily. Groundbreaking tips such as how overfilling your oil will lower your gas mileage. Idling at a stoplight and wasting even a drop of fuel is considered Prius-storic. And of course, there's that entire guy-type auto accessory shopping. Without leaving the comfort of your computer chair, you can purchase every thing from mud flaps to dashboard screen covers―deals the dealers don't even know about.

For the first mile or two out of the driveway my husband explains the importance of "good glide," also known as "feathering the throttle from full release." The critical thing here is keeping your speed under forty-two miles an hour. But that's just the beginning. His new Internet buddies have shared other gas-saving techniques like the "pulse and glide" and the "warp stealth." I'm thrilled.

"Watch the numbers," he says as we head towards the interstate. He points with glee to the MFD (Multi-Function Display) a device that looks like an electronic on-screen hamster cage complete with moving wheels, in the center of the dashboard.

Sure, I admit I was totally fascinated for the first few drives―those little spinning wheels simulating forward motion, the colored arrows flashing back and forth as the battery discharges and recharges. "Must be a lot of distracted Prius drivers on the road," I speculate, but he's quick with a comeback.

"We're more engaged in the whole driving process―that makes us even safer."
I'm mulling this over in my brain as we coast downhill.

The numbers at the bottom of the screen keep going up―from 46.5 to 49.4 miles per gallon. Hubby lets out a whoop as we get back on level terrain then flashes that silly grin again. "Can you believe it? I would have been thrilled to get half this mileage in our last car."
"Yeah sure, but look now." I can't help myself. As we make the next turn and start uphill the numbers are creeping back down, 47.3… 46.9.

Once again, he's fast with an answer. "I'm still working out a better route to the mall. Besides it's all about averaging, you know."

So it goes, our short hops around town are more often than not focused on fuel efficiency. Enjoying the view out the window on the way to the market or the movies has become secondary. But let's keep our priorities straight, I remind myself. Purchasing a PZEV (Partial-Zero Emission Vehicle) is a small start, but it's a commitment to going greener.

"Want to drive home?" my husband asks as we finish shopping and stroll back to the parking lot.

"I wouldn't dream of taking away your fun," I say. Besides, I know I'll never learn to meet his standards on feathering and gliding. Until we can afford another hybrid, it looks like the old gas-guzzling SUV in our garage is all mine. That is, if I can handle the guilt.

Related Posts by Category