That's right. I'm now one of those jerks with a Prius passing you at the pump:
You have to look at me in the last photo, because Julie refused to pose seductively on the hood.
Just picked it up Saturday; signed the papers Thursday. Wanted the Barcelona Red Metallic but had to settle for the Magnetic Gray, since I didn't want to go two weeks without a car.
My softball buddies commented that it was a uniquely bumper-sticker free Prius. Many, of course, will be adorned with the pro-environment and liberal messages of their owners. I figure on not using my car to speak for me, though I may add some goofy ones. I say the same thing about that as I did to Julie in agreeing with her about not getting the "Clean Special Fuels" vanity plate that Virgina offers: It's a Prius. By its very shape, it announces "I am a self-righteous jackass who tuts and looks down his nose at your SUV."
Still figuring out all the bells and whistles, but of course the energy monitor on the touch screen is addictive, and not terribly conducive to maintaining situational awareness. Though I remain completely geeked about the regenerative breaking. I'd shudder to see the spike in accident rates for the first month of owning a Prius. Still have to figure out how to turn off the backup beep, too. (hint, hint).
