I'm slowly moving up in the world of car labels -- selling my '94 Chevrolet Cavalier and picking up a new Honda Accord.

It embodies everything a woman in her early 30s wants: security, safety, reliability, comfort and performance.

But driving the Prius, Toyota's gasoline-electric hybrid car, brings second thoughts about my Accord.

At first, the Prius is a bit intimidating; you have to reach for the owner's manual to figure out how to start the engine. Attached to the key chain is a palm-sized box but no keys. There's no ignition or gearshift, just a huge navigation system on the dashboard that displays the power supplied from the engine and battery.

After a few minutes, I figure it out -- slide the key chain/box into the slot, hit the brake, push the ignition button. Listen. Nothing -- no engine noise, no idling, no vibration, no exhaust smoke. Mother Nature grins. Click another button on the dash to D and I'm off, but there's still only silence.

It's a refreshing break from the hustle and bustle of Toronto city streets.

The Prius can run as a full electric or full gasoline engine, depending on the road conditions and the power demands from the driver. Through the city, the car uses the electric engine, but on the 401, the gasoline engine kicks in. At a stop sign, I think I've stalled the car. But hitting the throttle causes the car to accelerate quickly. The Prius is pretty peppy -- not that much different than the Accord, but easier on the environment and the wallet.

There's an added bonus for single women: this car is a guy magnet. Everywhere I drive, men flock to the Prius. On highway and city streets, heads turn and fingers point. Stopped at a red light, a Monte Carlo packed with men holler: "Is that a hybrid?" and "How much does it cost?"

Stopping at the bank, I return to find a group of guys circling the car, faces pressed against the windows. Endless questions: "How do you start it?" "How does it work?" "What's the mileage like?" "How often do you plug it in?" I push my way through the crowd, answering only the last question. "You never plug it in."

The system is self-contained. The hybrid recharges its battery using power from the engine and energy that is otherwise wasted when the car decelerates. Even at night, several neighbours flock around to ask questions. "How does the electric/gas engine work?" "How much does the hybrid system cost?" "What happens if you drain the battery?"

I respond: "You can't. The system automatically recharges when the battery runs low."

Each Prius should come with a spokesperson. The car gets far more attention than my Accord, or the hundreds of other models with which it shares the road.

I've never liked a hatchback -- it reminds me of being a student. I prefer my sedan, but after a week driving the Prius, the juiced up five-door hatch with a slightly futuristic look grows on me.

Although I miss my heated leather seats, this car has a roomy, stylish interior, plenty of leg room, passenger room and trunk space for all my shopping sprees.

It also comes with every feature available on a conventional car, including air conditioning and a CD player.

The car handles well. It's sturdy, comfortable, and the acceleration is far better than expected. Horsepower has increased in the 2004 second-generation model by 50 per cent to 140 hp and 295 lb-ft of torque -- that's more torque than a 2004 Acura MDX SUV.

The best thing is the gas bill; it works out to about $600 a year compared with $1,000 for the Accord.

This Prius is the greenest production car in the world. Although it has only been on the market for a few months, Toyota expects to sell 300,000 of its hybrids a year worldwide.

At a price tag just shy of $30,000 (less than the Accord), the environment and my wallet might like the ride a bit better.

If it's good enough for Seinfeld's Julia Louis-Dreyfus, movie star Cameron Diaz and Steven Page of the Barenaked Ladies, maybe it's good enough for me.

Anyone want to buy a slightly used Honda Accord?