I've never really been a status symbol kind of guy. I usually shop at discount stores, wear cheap sneakers and, until my wife started openly mocking me, used to buy Wrangler jeans. I would argue that I have my own distinctive style. Others might refer to it as "charity chic."

This goes double when it comes to cars. Historically, my rides have tended to display a certain flair, a certain je ne sais freaking quoi, a certain verve.

Of course, others might refer to this elusive quality as "rust."

That having been said, I loved my 20 year old Mercedes, my 15 year old Mustang and my ten year old Cadillac Seville, even as I squeezed the last few miles from each of their engines. If people weren't impressed with the amazing awesomeness of my rides...well, let's just say that cool is a state of mind; some have it and some don't. I never really understood the idea of buying a ridiculously expensive car that looks like pretty much every other ridiculously expensive car. Hummers? Give me a break--why not just buy a surplus tank? BMWs? Save the money and take her to a nice restaurant!

My idiosyncracies aside, prestige automobiles are a very real trend and the cars that people drive often say a great deal about who they are, or at least who they think they are. However, now that gas is starting to rival single-malt scotch in terms of price, people who have used Hummers, Ferraris and Bentleys to overcompensate are finding themselves generating more sneers and fewer smiles. Under these circumstances, a very strange trend has developed. The latest prestige rides are hybrids. In fact, the demand for hybrids has reached such a level that the waiting list for a Camry hybrid in Long Island is six to eight weeks. In New York City, the wait for a Toyota Prius is two to four months.

A lot of the "green" movement seems focused on designing gadgets, clothes, and other items that are, essentially, status symbols. After all, while a hybrid car can save a great deal of gasoline, it also sends a message to the world about the driver's politics, values, and ability to afford an expensive new car.

The same goes for bamboo clothing, hemp hats, designer totes that say "I Am Not a Paper Bag," and all the other high-end fripperies that wealthy people are using to show their environmental bona fides.

The other day, I saw a t-shirt that said "Green Is the New Black." I couldn't agree more: sustainability has become something to wear on your sleeve, instead of a way to live.

I remember getting really excited when Geo first started producing cars in 1989. Quite apart from the fact that Geo was one of the first new lines that General Motors had put out in years, there was something about the cars themselves. They were reasonably well constructed, had cute styling, and got great mileage.

My Uncle Merle got one for my cousin Meghan, and I remember not being able to stop staring at it. Unfortunately, my father had some (justifiable) concerns about my driving skills and wanted me in a car with lots of heavy metal. He slammed the door on Meghan's car, tapped the fender, and declared it "tinny." I know that that was the death knell, and that I wouldn't be driving a hot little Geo any time soon.

(On the bright side, I ended up getting a 1983 Cadillac Seville from a police auction. I liked the classic styling and the fact that I could put fifteen friends in the car, while my father liked the fact that it weighed a ton and was built like a panzer. I put in a sweet sound system and rode the thing into the ground. In fact, it was the first car that I didn't total).