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The c—the lowercase is practically existential—was born of two ruthless numbers: 50 miles per gallon and <$20,000. The challenge of cost-engineering such a car worthy of the Prius name must have sent many a fine young engineer off the roofs of Toyota City. And yet it had to be done. The brilliant Prius has become, well, rather spendy, with a base price around $25,000. Many highly motivated, environmentally conscious young buyers simply could not afford the Prius's brand of fuel economy.
Hey, you there, about to fire off a snide email about how your 1986 Honda CRX HF got 50 mpg and cost you pocket lint: Don't. Your CRX was, comparatively, an empty cardboard box of a car. The Prius c has nine air bags, a tilt/telescopic steering column, power windows and doors, a well-kitted stereo with four speakers, automatic climate control, 10 times the high-strength steel and a fraction of the tailpipe and evaporative emissions of your ancient, trembling CRX. No comparison.
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Speaking of Honda: The c is also an answering salvo to Honda's Insight hybrid, reborn in 2009 as Honda's attempt to undercut the Prius. The Insight barely retains the "cheapest hybrid" title ($19,200, compared with the Prius c's $19,740) but can't touch the Toyota's 53/46 fuel economy, the best of any car on the market (41/44 mpg for the Insight).
I have to admit I felt a pang of regret when I first drove the Prius c. I had mocked the Insight—in my gentle, loving way—for what felt like scant structure and a certain resonating cheapness. And yet, compared with the Prius c, the Insight feels like it was built in a Belfast shipyard. Holy hell. In the Prius c even the air is thin.
Pedigree is not the Prius c's problem. In its 15 years on the market, Toyota's Prius has conquered the world, selling more than four million units and, in the first quarter of 2012, ranking third on the list of global best sellers, behind Toyota's own Corolla and the Ford Focus. Toyota's Hybrid Synergy Drive technology remains the standard by which other hybrids are judged. The coding in these cars is to powertrain software what "Henry V" is to a night at the theater.
“I honor it, I respect it, but what a starved, oppressively dull piece of motorized martyrdom this car is.”
The c's issues stem from the rude collision of those two numbers, 50 mpg and <$20,000, and the principle of diminishing returns. Yes, sure, Toyota could have simply transplanted the regular Prius's powertrain (net 134 hp) into the smaller and lighter Yaris, and Newton tells us it would have gotten better fuel economy. But having transplanted the heaviest and most costly component to the c, you'd wind up with only marginal improvements in cost and fuel economy, and a smaller, crummier car to put them in.
The c's program managers were thus obliged to dial back to the previous generation's 1.5-liter engine (the Gen III Prius uses a 1.8-liter), a smaller traction motor (60 hp vs. 80 hp) and a lighter, cheaper nickel-metal hydride battery (19.3 kilowatts vs. 27 kW).
The mass optimization and general lowercasing continued until the engineers arrived at a car that's 542 pounds lighter and 19.1 inches shorter, with a powertrain netting out at 99 hp, vs. the regular Prius's 134 hp. For all these exertions, the c returns 53/46 mpg, city/highway, as compared with the regular Prius's 51/48 mpg. In other words, both cars average 50 mpg. The engineering value, if you will, is all in the c's price advantage.
2012 Toyota Prius c
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Dan Neil/The Wall Street Journal
Base price: $19,740
Price as tested: $21,716
Powertrain: Series-parallel gas-electric hybrid, with DOHC, 16-valve, 1.5-liter, in-line four-cylinder (73 hp) with variable valve timing and lift; AC synchronous permanent magnet traction motor (60 hp); nickel-metal hydride battery pack (0.9 kWh, 19.3 kW output); front-wheel drive
Length/weight: 157.3 inches/2,500 pounds
Wheelbase: 100.4 inches
0-60 mph: 11 seconds
EPA fuel economy: 53/46/50 mpg, city/highway/combined
Cargo capacity: 17.1 cubic feet
And yet, what a starved, oppressively dull piece of motorized martyrdom it is. As my Minnesota relatives would say, oofta! A key notion here is that of sufficiency. The regular Prius is no hot rod, to be sure, but it comports itself around town and on the highway with a certain lithe assurance. You never wonder if it's going to be able to thread itself into moving traffic or attain highway speed before a truck looms up behind you.
The c will also perform sufficiently in situations requiring crisp acceleration—nominal 0-60 mph is 11 seconds—but you have to thrash it like Rasputin. This is not merely the result of the difference in the two cars' weight-to-power ratio (the c's 25 pounds per hp vs. the Prius's 22.7 lb./hp). The c's powertrain programming so despises sharp spikes in throttle demand that it often simply ignores them. Overwintering bears are easier to rouse.
There are also some plain giveaways underfoot. Because the battery capacity is smaller—0.9 kWh, compared with the bigger Prius's 1.3 kWh—the car's EV mode rarely seems to be available, due to insufficient charge. The CVT transmission has a "B" for "battery" slot in the shift gate, which tells the computers to increase the regenerative braking effect, but it doesn't seem to do much since the electrons have nowhere to go.
The c's rather one-dimensional powertrain behavior undermines one of the Prius's essential pleasures. Anyone who has driven these cars knows that part of the fun—the nerdy, too-embarrassing-to-talk-about fun—is marveling at its relentless ciphering, the endless fretting over every amp-hour and BTU. For all the energy-flow graphs and readouts on the c, those pleasures are largely missing.
And thus is born a fuel-saving marvel of engineering that I salute even as I can't imagine myself owning. But hey, 50 mpg for under $20,000. That's huge, that's epic, that's…I'm sorry. I dozed off.
Email Dan at rumbleseat@wsj.com .
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