At least it's not a Prius

I'm sure your photographic memory of all things Rotation and Balance will remind you I've already posted in the past about getting a loaner car, and a hybrid loaner at that.

Well, it's happened again.

Apparently the air conditioning in my car decided to give up its relentless pursuit of perfection just in time for some record-breaking March heat. I took it into the dealer because, you know, it was that or run down the middle of the street tearing up twenty-dollar bills and throwing them in the air. They diagnosed it as a broken blower motor (I'll wait while you insert your own joke here).

It's going to take a couple days to get the part. So the dealer, obviously sensing my green lifestyle and unwavering commitment to saving the planet, gave me, yet again, a hybrid to tool around in while I wait for my blower motor to be swapped out.

This time it's the Lexus CT200h F Sport. And against every instinct that's good and holy, I have to say it's pretty fun.

It has two modes, eco and sport - just like my high school girlfriend. BAM!

Eco is like dragging boulders uphill against a hurricane, and goes from 0 to 60 in, well, it hasn't reached 60 yet.

Sport mode however is another story. Turn the dial over to sport, and a tachometer appears on the gauge cluster, and the lighting changes from white to red. Suddenly, it's the little hybrid engine that could. And it hauls.

The picture up top doesn't do it justice. It's actually considerably more on the bad boy side of quirky looking in real life.

What I like to do is pull my fire-engine red loaner up next to a Prius. Then, when the light changes, leave them in my environmentally friendly, high mileage, low carbon emission dust.

I take my thrills where I can find them.

The car is smaller than mine. And since I'm a, um, fuller version of my younger self, the fit is a little tighter. Still, once the leather sport seat wraps its arms around me, space considerations are forgiven. I have the nicest go-cart at the track.

I'll be glad to get my own car back Monday or Tuesday. But until then, I'll be enjoying this attention-getting red hybrid in a way I never thought possible.

From behind the wheel.

My darling Clementine

I have a somewhat compulsive personality. For example when I like a song, I play it into the ground until everyone including me is sick of it. When I see a movie I like, I see it several times, looking for nuances, lines and performances I didn't notice the first several times. When I'm at the craps tables in Vegas, I'll roll the bones until I've gone all the way through the college fund.

Just kidding. What college fund?

And does anyone need to be reminded of my four-starting-on-five binges of Breaking Bad? Anyone? So it should come as no surprise that when I was introduced to clementine oranges - and liked them - that I would eat them six and eight at a time.

Besides, what's not to like. This small, tasty hybrid of a mandarin and sweet orange is seedless, easy to peel and just sweet enough. Not unlike my high school girlfriend (that joke is also something I'll use until you can't stand it anymore).

They're best when refrigerated, although they don't have to be. And you can eat them almost anywhere. They're juicy, but not in that spill-all-over-the-place naval orange kind of way.

At the market, they're usually sold in netted bags or small boxes called Cuties or Halos. I wouldn't care if they were called Cha Cha's or NumNums. They're awesome.

Occasionally I wonder how long it'll take me to tire of them, and what semi-healthy snack I'll move on to and obsess over next.

But not before I check to see if there are any more of these left.