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High-tech hippy tree-hugger
Despite tiny logistics demons getting in the way all over the place, such as the ones that rewrote the instructions for removing my stereo from the Camry to be incorrect, or the ones that somehow caused the dealership to take an hour and a half to actually physically get the car from one parking lot to another, I got the Prius last night. I’m not completely free and clear yet: I’ve still got to bring it in to get the cruise control retrofitted next week, and to bring it in for its 15K maintenance as well. I fed it with high-end gas (kind of like a welcome dinner?), since despite listing on the features that it came with a full tank of gas, and then charging me for gas, there was in fact, almost no gas in the car when I picked it up.
It’s short at both ends, and longish in the middle, tall and kind of square and just slightly odd all around. It’s got race-car tires, little lightweight things, and alloy wheels, which I always thought were vanity but in this case are just lighter. Two or three scratches, just enough to not worry the first time I screw it up. It’s quiet on the local roads, and noisy on the highway. It reports that I got 45 mpg on the commute here today. It’s got a gearshift that reminds you of an old-style taxi, and pretty displays that show you your fuel consumption in 5 minute intervals, that I’m sure I’ll turn off in about a week, but which for right now fascinate me. I enjoyed the ride in this morning.
I’ve never named my cars, or computers, or other large appliances in the past, wanting them to be tools, not to have personalities. This always has led to very weird linguistics constructions in my home, since Bard always names stuff. (“Should we take Darjeeling, or your car?”) But something about this retrofuturistic, butch, shining white beast seems to demand a name. I’m calling it Arktos, after the Little Bears of Artemis, optimistic and tough, young and wild. Plus, it kind of sounds like a spaceship name.
And if everything goes well, you’ll never hear about it again, because when things are going well with my car, I don’t find cars very interesting.
It’s short at both ends, and longish in the middle, tall and kind of square and just slightly odd all around. It’s got race-car tires, little lightweight things, and alloy wheels, which I always thought were vanity but in this case are just lighter. Two or three scratches, just enough to not worry the first time I screw it up. It’s quiet on the local roads, and noisy on the highway. It reports that I got 45 mpg on the commute here today. It’s got a gearshift that reminds you of an old-style taxi, and pretty displays that show you your fuel consumption in 5 minute intervals, that I’m sure I’ll turn off in about a week, but which for right now fascinate me. I enjoyed the ride in this morning.
I’ve never named my cars, or computers, or other large appliances in the past, wanting them to be tools, not to have personalities. This always has led to very weird linguistics constructions in my home, since Bard always names stuff. (“Should we take Darjeeling, or your car?”) But something about this retrofuturistic, butch, shining white beast seems to demand a name. I’m calling it Arktos, after the Little Bears of Artemis, optimistic and tough, young and wild. Plus, it kind of sounds like a spaceship name.
And if everything goes well, you’ll never hear about it again, because when things are going well with my car, I don’t find cars very interesting.
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