Saturday, February 6, 2010

So, the Prius.

I am in the Salt Lake City Airport. I am rolling my pink suitcase behind me. Yes, pink. I am with the Hub and we are heading to the Hertz Rent-a-Car counter. I am imagining the good old days when Hertz aired commercials of O.J. Simpson running wildly through the terminal to get to the rental car counter. I think that's what he was doing. Maybe he was running from the law.

Note: I don't really know.

However, Hub and O.J. are both Premier cardholders (or in O.J.'s case, perhaps a CLUB member) and we are invited to proceed directly to the icy cold garage to retrieve our vehicle. Once in the icy cold garage, we are invited to proceed directly to the vehicle and simply drive away. At our will and pleasure.

It is always exciting to walk down the row of rental cars. Wondering. Ahead we see Hub's name flashing in lights. Is this what it would be like to be famous? I am thinking. Our name in lights? Hopping into sparkling clean cars that aren't even ours and driving blissfully away?

Hub is ahead of me. Hub has reached his name in flashing lights. Hub has stopped. Hub is staring.

Note: Hub needs lessons in chivalry, I suppose. He is regularly ahead of me.

Hub is laughing. At our car for the weekend. Honey, he is saying, look!

And I look. It is a Prius. A Toyota Prius. A very shiny burgundy Prius.

It is not one of the mid-size cars promised to us on the internet. We are giggling. We are imagining the Hertz people in Utah. The Hertz people are analyzing the rentals for the day. The Hertz people are assigning cars based on their analysis. The Hertz people notice that a baby-booming couple from California--Sonoma County, no less--is arriving for the weekend.

They are from California, the Hertz people say, nodding knowingly. Let's give them the Prius.

Note: At least it wasn't a White Bronco ...

More on the Prius later.

Heck, yes!

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