Column: A sometimes bumpy ride behind the wheel of a rental car

My husband, Paul, and I have been a one-car family for three years, ever since our Rav4 reached the point where it wouldn’t pass inspection without significant repairs. We’re still debating whether this experiment is working. Paul is retired, so he doesn’t need a vehicle for work. Since I’m an educator, I’m home by 3 p.m. most days, so he has time to run errands in late afternoon. Plus, we live near many amenities, including a supermarket, hardware store, post office and several restaurants.

Usually, our one-car status works, and we can be proud to be both green and frugal. Other times, we need to go to Plan B. We rent a car.

This past spring, we needed one for a couple of days while our Prius was repaired following a fender bender. Then, this month, we rented a car to travel to our vacation destination on Penobscot Bay. Paul took our Prius, stuffed with two dogs, a large cooler and kayaking supplies, while I drove the rental with everything else, including a guest riding shotgun.

I always like new things and new experiences, so I looked forward to driving the Ford Fusion. It looked a little big compared to our tiny Prius, but I was sure I could handle it.

Once inside, however, I realized this 2017 model was even more high-tech than our hybrid. I was used to keyless entry and pushbutton start, but the “gear shift” in the Fusion was actually a large button that slid between drive, neutral, reverse and park. To enter our Prius, you just have to have the remote on you, but the Fusion had a huge remote that you actually had to point at the door. To open the trunk, I had to point the remote at a spot just under the edge of its lid. I had to check the owner’s manual to figure out how to access the gas tank.

But first, I had to drive out of the rental company’s parking lot. I started up smoothly enough, but I found the brakes were more sensitive than I’m used to, so I “bucked” my way out, like someone learning how to drive with a manual shift.

I cautiously drove to the supermarket to pick up a few last minute items, then headed home.

There I noticed that the car bore a Kentucky license plate. Now, I don’t have anything personal against Kentucky, but given my liberal political leanings, I’d rather have had a car from a blue state. Or any state that didn’t give us Mitch McConnell, who’s hell-bent on wresting health insurance from so many Americans.

I also worried that Maine drivers, who tend to get impatient with tourists during the summer, might treat me like I didn’t know where I was going. Well, I did!

The Fusion did have a huge trunk, which made our packing a snap. We were soon ready to hit the road. Paul had parked the Prius facing northwest in our semicircular driveway, so we could get the kayak atop it from the right side. I had driven in from the opposite side. So we were nose to nose in the driveway. One of us was going to have to back out, and Paul couldn’t do it because his visibility was limited by the bouncing dogs in the back seat.

So I started the Fusion and backed down the driveway, which is on an incline. I was rolling along when I suddenly felt I couldn’t control the car. The wheel wouldn’t turn. I was slowly headed for one of our flower beds. I stopped, and Paul got out of the Prius and came over to me.

“I don’t know what’s wrong! I can’t do anything with the car!” I was in a panic. A warning light glowed on the dashboard. Had I hit a button by mistake?

“Turn it off and start again,” Paul said. I did—and immediately recognized my mistake. A driver starts a Prius by pushing the start button and then shifting into drive or reverse. The hybrid makes little noise. Though the Fusion starts the same way, it roars into life like a regular car. I hadn’t actually started to car, and didn't realize it wasn’t running because the Prius has trained me to expect silence.

I didn’t have any more problems after that, except that I had to learn to turn off the lights and radio manually, after I turned off the engine. There probably was a way to automate those functions, but I was in vacation mode and didn’t really care. I had to be careful with parking as well, as I wasn’t used to the Fusion’s dimensions.

I was reminded, during this adventure, of the time a colleague and I left a meeting together. It was winter, and already dusk. She was having trouble opening her car. “I can’t understand,” she said. “It’s worked all day.”

I turned my car lights on to give her greater visibility. Then I said, “Try the hatchback. Sometimes if the remote’s battery is failing, it will still work on the hatchback.” She looked at me and realization bloomed in her eyes.

“This isn’t my car!” She had a loaner from the dealership and had gone up to the wrong red car. Hers wasn’t a hatchback.

Of course, I remembered this story as I searched for the Fusion in a Hannaford parking lot. I couldn’t remember what it looked like.

But knowing it wasn’t a hatchback did help.