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My new Prius is red.
One of the first things I do with a new car, is remove the advertising. Off come the license plate holders with their dealer logos. Off comes the stick-on PRIUS emblem on the back of the car. Off comes the TOYOTA emblem... that's when I realize, I'd better stop removing emblems, or the police will be mighty suspicious of this unlicensed, unmarked vehicle!
My plates won't come for 60-120 days, but I can get the stickers that let me use the HOV lanes before the plates arrive. First I have to get a special FasTrak transponder for a Hybrid. "Why can't I just use the transponder I have?" I plaintively ask the FasTrak telephone support person. "I think it's because they like to keep track of hybrids," she hazarded a guess.
At any rate, Trisha has my FasTrak transponder, and won't respond to emails or phone calls asking her to return it. Today I really needed it. At the Bay Bridge Toll Plaza, I zoomed all the way to the right, to enter the lane that leads to those three isolated tollbooths. But all three are FasTrak-only lanes now! I plaintively wave my $5 bill at the camera. Then I realize, "Hey... no license on the car, no way to send me a ticket!" Hurrah for the 60-120 day wait for plates.
The Prius comes equipped with an annoying backup beep, that can be disabled using an arcane series of button-pushes and gear shifts. The backup beep wouldn't be nearly so annoying, if it only sounded outside the vehicle to alert pedestrians. But it blares right into the driver's ear!
Do I love my Prius? Most people love their Priuses. I've seen them over-affectionately nicknamed "Priapus" on cartalk forums. I do not love my Prius, nor have I yet named it.
But I do love driving carefully, to bring my mileage above 50 mpg on the Fuel Consumption Display panel! And I love being back on the road again, the freedom of the open road.
Something odd happened on my way to a wedding guestbook. I wanted to wish my betrothed friends Dave and Jill well. So I wrote a loving entry for their guestbook. There were certain required fields in the guestbook, including first name, last name, and email address. Like any sensible spam-avoiding person, I was reluctant to provide my actual email address to Weddingchannel.com, so I wrote "spam@spam.com" and submitted my fond wishes for the happy couple.
Good thing I looked at the resulting entry. It appeared to be from a person named "Fuck You." Oh dear, this would never do! Fortunately there was an "edit" button. I attempted to change the name back to my own, and added a comment that "spam" at "spam.com" seemed to annoy the censors. Again the entry appeared to be posted from "F*** You" and my entire explanation was cut off from the word 'spam' onwards.
How rude!
I am aware that WeddingChannel.com would *like* to have my email address, to spam me with various wedding-related offers. But to place the words "F*** You" on someone's wedding website, seems beyond the pale.
Incredulous, I called Dave, laughing but annoyed, and asked him what he wanted to do. As the words might give certain family members an aneurysm, he couldn't ignore the work of WeddingChannel.com's disgruntled programmer. He was able to edit the profanities out of the entry.
Another friend had trouble with Dave’s guestbook. Her name had been changed to "Joe Schmoe" for reasons unknown.
Jill's affectionate new greeting for me is, "F*** you!"