I’m busy saving the world with my Prius

There’s nothing more terrifying than driving down a dark and lonely highway on a rainy night as the wind buffets my Toyota Prius, when suddenly a 702 hp Dodge Ram 1500 TRX pickup truck with antlers on the hood comes out from the bushes, barreling up behind me with blinding high beams.

Absolutely nothing more terrifying. Not Freddy Krueger, not Jason Voorhees, not Linda Blair in “The Exorcist” or Mr. Whipple squeezing the Charmin.

When that happens, I muster up my courage and slow down in defiance, which really ticks her — or him — off.

“GET OFF MY BUTT, YOU LUNATIC!” I yell. “I’M SAVING THE PLANET!”

That’s the kind of fool I am. I’ll do what must be done. I’m like John Kerry, U.S. Special Presidential Envoy for Climate, who doesn’t mind getting on a private jet if he needs to avert a global climate crisis.

My personal idol is Larry David because he’s a bald guy like me who drives his Prius around California, where they’ve taken the bold step of banning gas-powered lawn mowers and raised taxes so much celebrities are moving to Wyoming, where they can cut their grass without government interference.

Right about now, with gas prices going through the ceiling, I bet you wish you had a Prius. Fat chance, Buddy. This is America, where there’s a shortage of toilet paper, red meat and cars.

The environment is important to me, and I consider myself a kindred spirit with Pope Francis, Al Gore and Greta Thunberg, even though she recently mocked our president by saying, “Build Back Better blah blah blah!”

I’m just upset I wasn’t invited to join that U.S. delegation of 13 big shots President Joe Biden is sending to the U.N. climate summit in Glasgow. Maybe next year.

All I can say is I’m on a crusade to control carbon emissions, even if I have to drive my Prius 45 mph in the passing lane on the Merritt Parkway.

Because of my personal sacrifices, there’s enough gas for my other idol, Vin Diesel, to cruise around in his 1970 Dodge Charger R/T.

What bugs me is there have been nine “Fast & Furious” movies, and Diesel hasn’t driven a Toyota Prius in one of them. That would be a perfect opportunity for Hollywood to demonstrate the seriousness of climate change instead of just talking about it.

I’d love to see him save the world from global warming by driving a souped-up Prius with racing strips and a canister of NOS, aka nitrous oxide, to catapult him into another time zone.

Let’s face it, Prius drivers get no respect. When I’m at the stop light, the guys who pull up beside me in Pontiac GTOs or Ford Mustangs, with their engines growling and their suspension rocking, don’t even bother to spit at me if I give them the sign I want to drag race. In the automotive world, I’m the 97-pound weakling who gets sand kicked in his face, not to mention exhaust.

When I take my hot rod Prius on the Merritt, people are either driving 45 mph or 75 mph. If I pull into the passing lane, someone always tries to run me off the road. They think guys like me should be driving on the shoulder. Fat chance. I’m swimming with the sharks. I’m flying with the eagles.

I’m also plotting my revenge. At night when I say my prayers, I mutter, “May the president please make the price of gas go even higher so guys who drive muscle cars have to trade them in for Fiat Puntos.”

Since Joe Biden is saving the world with mask mandates, vaccine mandates and butter pecan ice cream mandates, it’s time for him to mandate 50 miles to the gallon.

Last week when I took my car in for a 12-month servicing, the mechanic said, “You have only 7,500 miles on the odometer. I guess you stayed home during COVID.”

That got me thinking. It’s time to celebrate. Since I have thousands of miles to burn and I get such good mileage, I’m planning a cross-country road trip ... even though my wife wants to put the kibosh on the idea because she says we have more important things to do, namely yard work. But I told her it’s against my principles to use a gas-powered lawn mower or leaf blower — or any other mower or blower for that matter.

When I take my hot rod Prius on the Merritt, people are either driving 45 mph or 75 mph. If I pull into the passing lane, someone always tries to run me off the road.