I've got a story to tell on this subject, and it is embarrasing.

My kid brother is, uh, out there. We tried to raise him right, he was off to a promising start, putting racing slicks on Dad's old '78 Ford Thunderbird, working on tuning that old American V-8 with a dirt-track racing buddy. I was proud of him...

But college changed him somehow...not for the better. He's 6'3" like me, on the wrong side of 300lbs, like me, and he doesn't like football. I mean, he actually attempts to make fun of the sport. Making fun of the NFL commissioner is one thing, I do that all the time, but he just doesn't like it. I can't compute.

Anyways, he was an early adopter of the Toyota Prius, was one of the first in line to buy one when they first came out, Toyota has even been great with recalls during the early teething years... whatever. Yay him.

The time came, however, one day, he needed to borrow my truck. V-8, American muscle, extended cab, 8-foot bed. We traded vehicles after work.

And I had to drive that damned Prius. To my Home. It was so embarrassing... at a stop light somewhere on the way, some toothy old hippie pulled up next to me in a rotted old Subaru Forester, the kind with about 50 earthy-crunchy bumper stickers on the back. And he grinned through his missing teeth and gave me a thumbs-up, like he was proud of me for saving the planet or something.

I wanted to roll down the window to explain, but I didn't want to risk using too much of the battery's precious power. I have a truck, dammit! I burn GAS! I eat steak! I own guns! I hunt deer! THIS ISN'T MY PRIUS, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!

Anyways, it's been almost 20 years now, I'm mostly over it. I still have that truck, he just recently traded in that Prius. Next time he wants to borrow My truck, though, I'm walking home... Kek!