Yesterday I saw my dear friend Elizabeth, a home birth midwife and acupuncturist who lives in LA. Since she lives in LA, she needs a car. And she doesn't just have a car, she has a decked out, souped-up, leather-steering-wheeled, top of the line Prius. It's a 2007. (She got a deal, in 2007.) She's already investigating the 2010s. I know all of this because I mentioned that should my husband and I ever buy a car, we'd buy a Prius and when she heard this her whole face lit up and said "What model are you thinking about?" I didn't even know there were models, but Elizabeth, she's been to Prius chat rooms.
Of course, if my husband and I were to buy a Prius, we'd buy the totally stripped down, bargain basement, late in the year model and we'd keep in for ten years, easy. And we'd both be glad. She'll zoom down the freeway in her souped up Prius with its GPS and bluetooth already installed. And me, I'll poke along the Jersey turnpike, grateful when I screw up the courage to change radio stations and lanes in a five mile stretch, imagining Lizzie, and we'd both be laughing the whole time.