Range anxiety. This is a phenomenon where the owner/driver
of an electric car will fret the distance their electric car will go before the
battery runs flat. The anxiety is often unfounded even in the face of clear
evidence that the car will get them where they need to go. Logical, thinking
people when behind the wheel will stare at that miles-to-empty figure and obsess
over whether their journey will be cut short by no choosing of their own. The
brain goes into overdrive, plotting and planning the most optimal course to
point B, all-the-while consumed in the relentless calculation of distances…
miles, kilometers. A calculation that inevitably will be entirely insufficient.
After all, what if my journey takes an unexpected turn 20 klicks south and into
the next county? How… how will I ever live to see another day? Did I get my
will notarized? Did I clear the history on my browser? Death, it seems, is a
very real possibility. Say goodbye to everyone you know.
Range anxiety is very real. I can say that I had a
first-hand experience when I bought my own Nissan Leaf. It’s no laughing
matter. I can truly see why the second-hand market for a Leaf is so poor, car
shoppers don’t trust them yet. Range anxiety begins long before one takes the
dive to buy an EV.
Fast Forward 7 months to yesterday. My range anxiety is entirely
gone and I rarely give the “SoC”, or state of charge a second thought. I just
know that the car will get me to where I want to go. Admittedly, I know before
I leave that the trip is realistic. I’m also educated as to where the public
chargers are located in the event my journey takes an unexpected turn. That
said, I just don’t think about the range. I just… drive… the… car. And, what an
excellent car it is. Comfortable, easy to drive, very few blind spots, lots of
technology and widgets. This 31-year-old father couldn’t care less how atrociously
dreadful the design is. The bulbous rear-end, the plastic’y looking tail
lights. The bug-eye headlights, the disproportionate measurements of the midsection
much like my own midsection. The plastic-chrome door handles….. …
No bother. I love the car, it drives nice.
… Until last night, that is. It started the night before. I
forgot to plug the car in at home to supply the battery pack with its daily
lust of coal electricity. I go out the next morning to leave for work and
realize the state of charge was only about 54%. No big deal, I can make it to work
and charge it there. The next bit was rather uneventful. The battery went from
flat to about 65% throughout my 9 hours of indentured servitude. I made it home
with about 25% to spare, but I needed to head back into town later that day. I
figure I’d endeavor to visit the CHAdeMO quick charger at the Nissan dealer in
the next town. I would need to drive a reasonable speed perhaps sans air cond.
So, without giving it a second though I set off. Without suffering a single
glance at the SoC, I took the I-15 onramp and barreled down the motorway to my
destination at 84mph with the air cond chilling at maximum capacity. As I
neared the desired motorway exit, I happened to catch the flashing of the
instruments telling me I had run the battery flat before I’d completed my
journey!!!!11 Just then, the Leaf entered into the dreaded “Turtle Mode”. That’s
where the output of the motor was limited… the final breath of the electric
drivetrain, a final farewell to the cruel world that would end just minutes
down the road. I immediately ceased the use of all unnecessary equipments,
reduced my overall speed and would barely grace the accelerator pedal with the weight
of a feather. Range anxiety rears its ugly head once more. I desperately
scoured the depths of my brain for the closest public charging station. The
hospital! As if it was a beacon to deliver me from medical emergency, I pulled
the car into the parking garage where I knew I could find a L2 charger. I come
around the corner, only to find all EV parking stalls and charger cables were
in use….
A Model X, Fiat 500e, Volt, and a Leaf.
“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Passers-by gazing at my bemoan. I knew
this was the end… It was time to abandon the car and check myself into the
morgue just inside. We had a nice run, even if it was only just 7 months. Goodbye
crueeeelll worrrl!!! Just as I had lost all hope, a thought crossed my consciousness…
to perform the unthinkable. I would… GASP! UNPLUG The Chevy Volt. After all, I
knew the Volt had a gasoline engine and a fuel tank on aboard as if a defector quell
to my moral objective to violate another person’s charging vehicle.
I did it. I yanked that plug out of the Volt with a
satisfaction that can’t be described with English words. I plugged my
ill-gotten gains into the charge port of the Leaf to take delivery of that coal
juice that was ever so sweet.
Reflecting on the atrocity of my crime, I endeavored to
write a letter to the owner of the Volt to come clean and tell them what I’d
done and put it under the wiper blade. Guilt sets in. Like a fever, I was 101.2%
sure I didn’t want to be around when the owner returned. Emboldened with my felonious
actions (and a 17% SoC), I set off on my way to find an unused charging
station.
Decisions and consequences. Death.
-Serrated
-Serrated
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