I bought a Prius | Column

I mean, all you have to do is look at production numbers to see that both of those iconic marques have owned their respective niches since introduction. Mazda has churned out over 1.1 million Miatas since the car’s debut in late 1989 as a 1990 model, while Toyota has built around the same number of second-generation Priuses–like the 2005 model I just added to the fleet.

But if you need an even more stark example of the ubiquity of each car, put down this magazine and go to your computer–unless you’re reading it on your computer, then just make a grunting sound of acknowledgement or something. 

Now go to Wikipedia, open the page on hybrid vehicles, and tell me the first picture you see. Yeah, it’s a Prius. Now browse over to the Wiki entry for roadster (automobile). Do I even have to prepare you for the fact that the image at the top of the page is a Miata? No, I don’t. You knew before you even clicked.

The Miata legitimized the rebirth of the roadster into modern times–not simply by existing, but by being really, really good. Likewise, the Prius’ success legitimized a new automotive category. It was the first mass-market hybrid to be delivered to consumers (in Japan), and while the Honda Insight beat it to market in the U.S., the Prius that dropped as a 2001 model could seat five to the Honda’s two and was priced right in line with the rest of Toyota’s lineup. Honda may have fired the first hybrid shot in the States, but Toyota officially kicked off the revolution.

By the time second-generation hybrid models like mine came around, the novelty had largely passed and the Prius was one of more than a few affordable hybrid options. But the second gen basically defined the category, both to the general public and to knowledgeable car enthusiasts. Like the Miata, the Prius became a near-permanent fixture on Car and Driver’s 10Best list. Both cars received awards from the automotive and mainstream press as well as consumer and industrial organizations focused on reliability and engineering. 

To a large extent, both models rewrote the rule books to show the car-buying public that ubiquity and personality could co-exist–something didn’t have to be rare to be precious.

And as the Miata birthed a legion of fan clubs, internet forums and YouTube channels, the Prius has earned a knowledgeable and dedicated fan base. Head over to PriusChat (priuschat.com) and you’ll find one of the top 20,000 websites in the U.S. and one of the top 80,000 in the entire world. It’s the place to get extensive and vetted knowledge about your Prius–including maintenance it might need and modifications you might want to make–or just compare performance with other owners. In other words, it’s pretty much like any enthusiast car forum. 

Now, I’ll admit that from behind the wheel, the Prius experience feels a bit different dynamically. While the Miata tracks your every direction-changing whim with sticky tires and direct steering and a willing gearbox, the Prius is, well, less exciting to drive. 

[2021 Toyota Prius 2020 Edition | New Car Review]

But the Prius engages you in different ways, mostly through displaying several operational parameters on the driver info center–including fuel efficiency. A new “round” of feedback begins every 5 minutes, and you quickly find yourself changing your driving habits to “beat” your previous 5 minutes–and yelling at the driver in front of you who didn’t allow you to coast long enough to maintain essentially zero fuel use for an extended period. 

Where the Miata tests your driving skills in terms of apexes and exits, the Prius challenges you to simply extract maximum distance from minimal resources. It doesn’t reward your performance with an NPR tote bag or tickets to a taping of Radiolab; it just acknowledges that you did better–or worse–than before. Any value judgments come from you, and if my experience is any indication, they’re plenty. 

Look, the whole point here I’ve kind of already addressed: For a car to be worth driving, it doesn’t necessarily have to be “exciting,” but it has to be “engaging.” What my $5000, 130,000-mile, second-gen Prius lacks in thrills, it more than makes up for in efficiency, ease of use, frugality with parts (they hardly break, and when they do, they’re usually cheap to fix), inexpensive insurance (less than half the rate of my old Nissan Leaf for the same coverage) and a massive and enthusiastic fan base. 

Sure, some people call them appliances, but my refrigerator is an appliance and I opened it earlier this evening and took out a delicious piece of chicken. I fail to see how “appliance” could possibly be used as a disparaging term after that. 

Also, don’t think I haven’t checked Tire Rack to see what other wheels fit on the car. (Answer: Oh, slightly over 600 styles, all with great tire availability for a somewhat sportier ride.)

Look, I don’t know if my Prius would ever to show up in the grid at a Track Night in America, but I’m fairly sure it could. And, if driven well, it likely wouldn’t be the slowest car in the slowest group. And afterward, I could take it to pick up some chicken.