Toyota Prius Unleashed

[Ed Note: One James Sikes in California had a problem with his Toyota. This letter is directed to his attention. Use the URL link at the end of this piece to see the original video.]

Dear Jim:

I hope you don’t mind my calling you “Jim,” instead of James; since you are a Boomer, and a statistical contemporary of mine, I feel a certain kinship toward you.

Now Jim, just between us guys, as teens we used to work on our cars back in the Sixties, remember? We had no money for a new one; the thought of buying from the showroom was laughable and getting Mom and Dad to dig into their pockets and gift one to us just wasn’t done. They had the family car payment to make.

That’s not to whine about a deprived childhood. Those old cars were a great part of youth, don’t you think?

Crawling over, under, around and through my old Batmobile - a ’57 Chevy C-10 meat wagon, straight-six, standard shift, dual single-barrel carburetors on an Offenhauser aluminum manifold, converted into a forerunner of the SUV - taught me so much about automobiles. I fixed flats, adjusted those carbs, did the points, plugs and condenser, changed the water pump with glee.

There was something so tactile, so satisfying, so male about working on those wheels. It was a rite of passage.

Don’t you remember that, Jim?

Well, I think that a cataclysmic event must have happened in your life to make you forget all about that part of forty years ago. And I do mean all.

I saw you on the internet this morning telling a tale of woe about your 2008 Toyota Prius. Don’t worry, Jim, I won’t make fun of you for buying such a wimpmobile.

Your being in green California is reason enough. You wouldn’t want to be seen dead in El Cajon in, say a new, retro, hemi Dodge Charger, would you?

Most people relent to their community standards, pressure, and you were no exception.

But as I watched your interview on the internet I saw the fear return to your eyes, the abject panic that you experienced, as you described your diminutive gas-sipper deciding on its own to go an amazing 94 miles per hour.

My God, Jim, how’d you get that runt to go so fast?

Anyway, when it did, you didn’t allow yourself one second of ride-em cowboy; instead you panicked, smoked the brakes and called 911, needing a young man from the CHP to give you advice and material assistance to end the wild ride.

Jim, what is wrong with you?

Any real car man of the Sixties I know - after filling his rush of 90+ speed - would have instinctively and simply put the car in neutral, coasted to the side of the road and shut it down.

That’s neutral Jim, neutral. It’s the “N” on the shift selector.

I’ve even taken a picture for your future use, and circled the letter so you won’t forget.

See it at the top of this article.

Be my guest, make a copy and keep it in your glove box for handy reference.

Oh, I know, you won’t need it. Toyota said they’ll fix the problem.

[EdNote: Click on Prius Pumped]

Send this article to a friend!

Copyright 2010.  All Rights Reserved