Pan up from a shiny shiny car hood. (That's a bonnet to our U.K. readers.) Josh is standing there, in jeans and with a new haircut that really brings out his receding hairline. A salesdude asks if Josh is there to check out the Prius he's looming over. Josh says that hybrid cars are "the wave of the future." Unfortunately, he does not say it in that deep resonant announcer voice in which all statements about the future should be made. Josh looks at the sticker and expresses surprise over the alleged 60 m.p.g. in the city and the 51 m.p.g. on the highway. I'm surprised too, but that's just because my Consumer Reports 2005 Buying Guide just arrived in the mail, and it says that the Prius averaged 44 m.p.g. in the magazine's tests. Salesdude technobabbles about the wonders of hybrid technology, and then starts to talk about how gas prices are "at an all-time high." But know-it-all Josh has to interrupt him to explain that, adjusted for inflation, gas prices were much higher in 1981. ["Which is why they should be raised again, to lower oil use and encourage consumers to buy smaller, more fuel-efficient cars. Yes, I read The New Yorker." -- Wing Chun] And that while prices were equivalent to today's prices in the '50s, they were higher when compared to average household income. Salesdude is a bit flabbergasted at Josh's command of facts and figures, but Josh explains to him that he works at the White House. Salesdude tries to tell Josh that owning a Prius would be a great statement for a public official to make ["that's why I plan to get one when we have to get rid of our Jetta -- that, and I like lording things over people, and feeling superior" -- Wing Chun], but Josh tells him that the positive symbolism is pretty much wiped out by the fact that the car is not made in the U.S. Now, I work for unions, so I have those concerns, but I really think that wouldn't be a problem for someone who works for a president who supports free trade as much as Jed does. Josh is a bit peeved that the dealership is asking for $3500 over the sticker price, but that's explained by the fact that there are seven hundred people on a waiting list, which amounts to an eight-month wait. Josh turns down the offer of a test drive, but then he sees something outside the window. It's an enormous red SUV (one that's actually made by Ford, according to the ever-reliable JustJoshin). Josh asks if he can test-drive that.
Josh is outside the dealership, waiting for Salesdude to get the planet-killer. A happy family is just picking up their Prius. Josh congratulates the father (because clearly, he's the only one who had anything to do with purchasing the car), and the dad gets all preachy, telling Josh that it's time for individuals to do something about fuel efficiency, since the government obviously won't. Josh makes a tut-tut noise about Congress, but the father tells him that Bartlet hasn't done a thing about it either. Just then, Salesdude calls over and tells "Mr. Lyman" that the SUV is ready for him. Josh looks sheepish (a good look for him -- he should try it more often), and from the look on the dad's face, he knows exactly who Josh is. Josh walks over to the land whale.
“ I would just like to say that I failed the New York State driving exam three times and did not get my license until I was nearly thirty, and I am still a better driver than Josh Lyman. ”
Josh climbs behind the wheel of the pollution machine and buckles up. Josh: "I know I sound like a dork, but this is way cool." Oh honey, haven't you realized by now that you always sound like a dork? He is practically giddy with excitement as he gets ready to put the car into gear. Of course, he hasn't bothered to check any of the mirrors to see if they need adjusting. Salesdude is sitting to him, and tells him to take it "easy out of the lot." Josh hits the gas and nearly smashes into a round concrete planter placed right to the edge of the driveway. Salesdude is getting a slightly nervous look on his face. Just as Josh starts to back away from the planter, his cell phone rings. He answers it, of course, while continuing to back up. It's Donna, calling from the office to tell him that somebody from the DCCC is waiting to meet with him. So, just to be clear, it's a workday and Josh is out joy-riding. What's worse, we know that Josh lives in a rowhouse neighborhood, which means that he lives somewhere near the center of D.C. So for him to get to a car dealer, he would have had to go out of his way to travel to the outer reaches of the District or (more likely) into Virginia or Maryland. So what exactly was he doing when he visited this mythical Fordoyota dealership? Was he actually thinking of purchasing, or did he travel an hour out of his way just to look at cars? In any case, Josh tells Donna that she should see the monster he's driving: "My testosterone is flying." Ew. Donna agrees with me, because she says, "Try not to get any on anyone." Salesdude gives Josh a look as he continues to talk on the phone, and Josh says that he'll put on his hands-free rig so that he can continue chatting with Donna. Of course, he doesn't actually stop the SUV or put it in Park -- he just looks down at his phone while continuing to drive forward. Just then, the daughter from the Prius-buying family walks in front of the SUV, and Salesdude screams, "Watch out!" Which is better than I would be able to do -- in similar situations, I'm lucky if I can get out a high-pitched squeal. So kudos to Salesdude. Josh sees the daughter just in time and swerves to the right to avoid hitting her -- causing him to crash into the rear of the Prius. Donna hears the crash over the phone, and asks if Josh is okay. He tells her to tell the DCCC that he "may be a while." I would just like to say that I failed the New York State driving exam three times and did not get my license until I was nearly thirty, and I am still a better driver than Josh Lyman.
Credits. Hmmm, Jimmy Smits has been dropped from the credits this week.
C.J. is just leaving a reception for some Japanese (I think) visitors when she runs into Josh. (Who apparently went home and changed into a suit after nearly killing that girl.) He asks her how her weekend was. C.J.:"What weekend? Oh, you mean that two-day period where the giant mountain of briefing material invades your domicile instead of your office, finally and completely obliterating whatever desperate and pathetic distinction you've labored mightily yet rather foolishly to maintain?" Y'all, I love C.J.'s little rants, but the speed at which she speaks makes my fingers bleed. Josh: "At least you can do it in your jammies." C.J.: "You're picturing that right now, aren't you?" She asks him how his weekend was, and he says it was boring. Hmmm, I'm beginning to think that his accident was supposed to have happened on the weekend instead of on a weekday morning. Which I guess makes sense, because otherwise the girl he nearly killed would have been in school. Okay, I can admit when I was wrong. C.J. asks him if he had any adventures over the weekend, in his "non-jammies." Josh: "You're picturing that right now, aren't you?" C.J.: "Trying furiously not to." Welcome to my lonely little club, C.J. She asks him if he's seen Toby, and Josh tells her that he thinks Toby is briefing.