Ashley Roberts Penthouse Babe of the Day

Teagan Presley Penthouse Babe of the Day

The sedan that put the hybrid into the mainstream gets more than a face-lift. Now it has a whole new attitude. But is it tough enough?
By Bill Heald

Few hybrids have been more polarizing than the Toyota Prius. I don’t use the word polarizing just to reinforce the fact that it spends a good part of its life powered by batteries; I also use the term because it’s one of those cars that people either love or hate. Those who love it point to the hybrid power train as a revelation. It takes a small inline-four gasoline engine and combines it with an electric motor to increase fuel efficiency and lower emissions. The result is a car that can seat five, yet gets the kind of mileage typical of motorcycles—a matter of some importance given recent gas prices. It’s also loaded with the newest technology, including a unique instrument cluster and an innovative transmission interface.

What’s not to love? Well, there’s that egglike profile for starters, and the fact that it’s the ultimate treehugger transport. And let’s face it: Most guys prefer big V-8-powered gas-guzzling assault vehicles that help express their manhood. The Prius has also been accused of not being a sports car and, therefore, not a babe magnet (though that depends on the type of babe you’re trying to attract). But there’s no arguing that the first-generation Prius that arrived in the U.S. in 2000 was quite schoolmarmish, and the second generation that appeared as a 2004 model, while light-years better, was still too frumpy due to its soft suspension and bland performance.

When it came to the third-generation 2010 Prius, Toyota finally realized that, critics aside, they had a very successful car on their hands that was a fuel-economy champ with a loyal following. Their dual objective was to improve upon the things people liked without messing up the car’s key attributes, while souping up the Prius to attract a wider spectrum of owners. The result is a stem-to-stern revision of the car that gives the Prius more power, more comfort, better brakes and handling, more room, and, amazingly, even better fuel economy (50 MPG combined EPA).

So how does it drive? The Prius still runs on its gas engine, or the electric motor, or both. But now the gas engine is larger (up from 1.3 liters to 1.8) and, combined with the electric motor, puts out 134 horsepower. There are four drive modes: Normal, Power, Eco, and EV. Power gives quicker throttle response for a sportier feel, Eco biases response toward better fuel economy, and EV allows the Prius to cruise along solely on electric power at low speeds for up to a mile. The nickel metal hydride batteries that power the electric motor (and most accessories) are recharged whenever you coast or apply the brakes, because the motor seamlessly switches into a generator. The gas engine sleeps at stoplights and starts and stops as needed while you drive, but you usually won’t notice these transitions except for the absence of engine noise.

The chassis has been carefully retuned for much sharper handling, and the electric power steering has much better feel and feedback for a more engaging driving experience. Surprisingly, the more angular cutting-edge styling not only looks cool but also delivers better aerodynamics.

The new interior is quite slick, with a multifunctional display for the driver that includes a Touch Tracer image that illuminates when you use the steering wheel–mounted radio, ventilation, and other controls. The air-conditioning system runs off batteries alone and has an optional remote feature, and the optional sunroof on our test mule had solar roof panels that powered interior fans that kept the interior cooler when parked in direct sunlight. Cool, baby.

Sharper, faster, and now more advanced and frugal than ever, the new Prius is the thinking man’s babemagnet (for advanced, eco-minded babes, of course). Real men go green in style.

Every Time I Die will play 30 gigs in 33 days this fall, ranging from San Francisco to New York, San Diego to Tampa, and almost all points in between. We spoke to frontman Keith Buckley before he packed up the van. He told us about bringing humor to hardcore, how a band from Buffalo can be called “Southern,” and the secrets behind a properly executed jump kick.

When you signed with Epitaph Records last year, you said you were happy for the chance to keep on making music after “existing for ten years in an environment that has chewed up and spit out most bands in a quarter of that time.” How has your band lasted ten years?
We owe our longevity to the energy of our live shows. They always deliver something new, something intimate and special. You’ve gotta give people something that they want to see, and luckily we’ve tapped into that somehow.

While many hardcore or metal bands can be rigid, even uptight, you guys bring a lot of humor and wit to your music. Was that a conscious choice?
Nah, it’s just the way we write music. You have to keep a sense of humor about things. Some hardcore or metal bands think that if you have a sense of humor it’ll undo the anger in your music. If you’re not angry all the time, then what you’re yelling on a record has no sincerity to it— I absolutely don’t believe that. Maybe we have a sense of humor about it because we understand it a little better, or from a different perspective; we try to critique it, expose it for what it really is. Whatever the topic might be.

Let’s get serious and talk about the art of the jump kick. Say I’m starting up a band. Can you give me some beginner tips on timing, execution, and style?
Well, it’s kind of like parallel parking a car—you gotta learn the dimensions of your vehicle.

[Laughs] Okay.
You gotta know how much height you’re getting. You have to know your extension: stretching that leg—good extension—is the main priority for doing a good jump kick. And finally, for some reason—I don’t know what it is—if you wear a headband, you’re guaranteed to jump higher.

You get more air with a headband?
Absolutely!

Your band is often described as having Southern-rock elements. Would you agree, and if so, how does a band from Buffalo get that tag?
Yeah, I definitely would. It’s an odd phenomenon up here in the Northeast that when you get to, like, Pennsylvania, people start having a Southern accent. I don’t understand how it works—it might be just a byproduct of rural life, where you’re out in the woods and have a lot of acres of land. My uncle was that, exactly. He had a lot of land and, growing up, we would always go to his place for bonfires. Anytime you have uncles who hunt and drink beer and sit around bonfires, chances are there’s going to be some Allman Brothers getting played.

Your band has had seven bass players in 11 years. They’re not spontaneously exploding, are they?
[Laughs] No, I don’t know what it is. I just don’t think that, up until this point, we’ve been cohesive and mentally solid. But last year, everything finally came together. This bass player [Josh Newton] was just a no-brainer; we knew him, we’d toured with him when he was in his old band [From Autumn to Ashes], and he was the perfect dude.

There’s a bonus track on the new album called “Buffalo 666.” Are you a fan of the movie Buffalo 66?
Oh, yeah, definitely.

How ’bout the Bills?
I’m kind of a fair-weather fan of the Bills, but I don’t really like the sport in general. Though living in Buffalo, it’s such an experience to go to a game—it’s pretty fun to be a part of. But I’m not gonna kill myself if they miss another big field goal.

Or shoot the kicker.
Yeah, exactly.

Buffalo is legendary for its winters. Can you give me your best “it’s so fucking cold” story from Buffalo?
I can give you a “I can’t believe how much it’s fucking snowing” story: We got hit with a blizzard in November about seven or eight years ago. I was at the University of Buffalo, and they’re like, “All right, all classes are canceled, there’s a huge storm coming in, you gotta get home.” It was only a 15-minute drive to my house, but about ten minutes in, I just couldn’t see anymore. So I’m like, “Fuck it,” and I drove my car to the side of the road and walked the rest of the way. Then my roommates and I put on snowboarding gear and went out in the storm, and started pushing cars out of the snow for money and booze. We walked around all night with a bottle of whiskey to keep warm and got paid to push cars out of the snow. It was fuckin’ awesome.

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If you’ve got any image of Drambuie, it likely involves the oldest guy in the bar calling for a Drambuie neat before leaving the night to the vodka-and-cranberry crowd. That’s because you probably know it as the rotund bottle covered by a healthy layer of dust. But Drambuie is looking to find a home among a bartender’s go to pours. Its redesigned bottle is tall and slim, like those of other whiskys, and though the modern label and clear glass bottle full of inviting golden liqueur might inspire a double take, the sweet and spicy cocktail experience will make a believer out of you. But what’s more important is that Drambuie plays well with booze, citrus, and bitters.

Global brand ambassador Jamie Stephenson recommends forgoing the classic rusty nail and getting creative with the versatile liqueur. “The secret lies in choosing which part of Drambuie you want to emphasize,” Stephenson says. “For the most part, Drambuie is very sweet—the heather honey really is at the fore. By using bitters or acidity [citrus] to tone down the sweetness, you allow more of the other sensations to shine. The complexity of the spice mix and the smoothness of the whisky blend can be built upon to create cocktails. You can just as easily make a classic Manhattan-esque drink for the discerning gentleman as a Sex and the City–style crowd pleaser.”

Another reason to take a new look at Drambuie is its 80-proof punch. The devil-may-care feeling of
sipping a cocktail comes a lot more quickly when its modifier doesn’t cut the alcohol content. For the home bartender, Drambuie is a coup because it adds whisky, honey sweetness, and notes of clove, nutmeg, and saffron in a single pour.

Drambuie caught on with Scots and went on to global distribution because it’s a quality, intricate liqueur, different from anything else. In Scotland it was originally dubbed an dram buidheach, which means “a drink that satisfies.” Now that it’s been updated for the twenty-first century, we recommend giving it a spot in your drinking rotation.