The Prius Has Been Wronged

C ommuters are rarely provided wondrous vistas during their daily drives, and this day was no exception. At the stop-and-go light at an intersection near my local Fleet Farm in Wisconsin, I had little recourse but to observe the other vehicles to pass the time. After all, a red light stays red longer if you watch it, or so grandmothers say.

Amid the usual Chevys, Subarus, and unburdened Ford F-150s whose daily workloads entail little more than groceries traveling home from Costco was a Toyota Prius sporting a remarkable bumper sticker proclaiming, “Not a Liberal.” Amusing, to be sure, but I then began to dwell on the stereotypes attached to various vehicles and was struck by how wronged the Prius has been by its association with the Left.

The Prius, a gas-sipping hatchback hybrid — meaning the vehicle’s propulsion is shared between a battery bank and a conventional gasoline engine — has long been considered a symbol of eco-snobbery and progressivism.

One could be forgiven for thinking “Feel the Bern” or “Resistance” stickers come standard from the factory floor, with “New Car Smell” being swapped for “Air of Superiority.” Pri’i (plural for Prius) are most often observed parked outside Whole Foods, vegan distilleries, and critical-race-theory champagne brunches.

This progressivist reputation is most unfortunate and ill-suited to such a brilliant machine. In many ways, the Prius is a conservative automobile: embodying a superior fusion of old and new technologies, practicability, and humble fiscal philosophies that stand the test of time.

We conservatives are occasionally accused of being Luddites. Baseless to be sure, however much we might squint suspiciously at certain newfangled technologies and perhaps opine about how the world is going to hell in a handbasket because of them. No, we generally welcome technological advancement and celebrate the free market’s capacity to offer incredible opportunities to raise standards of living worldwide. However, this warmth toward improvement is tempered by the understanding that with newness comes challenges. As Thomas Sowell is fond of saying, “There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs.”

Cars of yore were simple things, and often simplicity would be sufficient. However, they were grossly inefficient — especially those horrors of the Seventies; Ford LTD, anyone? — and with gas-price volatility, inefficient vehicles have become financially burdensome to the average commuter. Unconfirmed reports indicate some folks have even had to go down a drink size at Starbucks because of rising fuel costs.

Meanwhile, fully battery-powered cars such as the Tesla family struggle from their absolute reliance on battery propulsion. Drivers suffer from fluctuating travel range due to ambient conditions affecting the battery, luxury price tags, anti-consumer repair practices, and more. And forget about the good old-fashioned American road trip: Should you be fortunate enough to find a charger before running dry, the “fill-up” will consist of an hour-long irritation repeated every 200 miles for an EV comparably priced to the hybrid. Granted, when Cracker Barrel installs charging stations at all its locations, this may not be such an imposition.

The Prius, by contrast, is a manifestation of that most delicate balance between the advantages of the new — with its battery bank and gasoline savings — and the accepted wisdom of the ancients — that venerable internal combustion engine which has been ferrying humanity around for over a century. Should the Prius batteries go low, the engine transfers power to it. Similarly, the battery lends aid when the engine strains to get to highway speed. It is a most beautiful collaboration.

But vehicular fusionism is useless if the object in question isn’t practical. Thankfully, the Prius exhibits its brilliance in spades. Imagine a vehicle that can carry a truckload of material without exposure to rain and locust storms. Then, consider that this vehicle gets 50 mpg and routinely surpasses 300,000 miles on the odometer. Moreover, it can do all of these things and slide into any parking spot in any city or pot-luck function. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Toyota Prius.

The Prius is a pickup truck in cruelty-free sheep’s clothing, and I know this personally. I have multiple family members who own one, and my wife and I drive a similar hybrid model. Transporting lumber, car parts, and a wheelchair? Easy day. The Prius is Mary Poppins’s bag with a marginally better sound system. If you just believe, there isn’t a thing you can’t fit in there.

Then there are the savings. There are fewer better feelings than pulling up to a gas pump and knowing the tank can be filled for less than 30 bucks. Dispositional conservatives are known for their frugality, and would it not be nice to have a vehicle that can be heard muttering from its tailpipe when your kid asks for spending money, “Do you think the stuff grows on trees?”

So to the Prius, we conservatives owe an apology. Or at least a second look. The vehicle’s longevity should not be dismissed — and remember this is Toyota we’re talking about, not the plaything of some guru-employing sentient beard amped up on VC cash who conceived of the idea on a spirit quest. Toyota, as a matter of philosophy, eschews the cutting edge for proven designs. The company has been duly rewarded by consumers, becoming the world’s largest auto manufacturer by sales.

The Prius should be considered conservative because it fundamentally is. May the day come when liberals feel it necessary to explicitly mention their politics on the bumpers of their Pri’i for fear of being thought conservative.