It's Electric!

Trying to save the planet by driving a Chevy Volt is like trying to save a chicken by eating just the nuggets. So it’s a good thing I have no intention of coming to the earth’s rescue or ordering the three-bean salad – I’m here to drive an electric car.

I’m standing in the main entrance of Banks Chevrolet with Courtney Thomson, its recently-hired Marketing Coordinator. On a whim, I emailed the dealership a few days ago, and within minutes, Courtney called, inviting me to borrow a brand-new Chevy Volt for the weekend.

The Volt is the American car industry’s first major foray into the world of electric vehicles, joining the Nissan Leaf and the soon-to-come Toyota Prius Plug-In as the only widely available electric cars on the road today. The Volt isn’t purely electric, isn’t a hybrid and isn’t a traditional gas-fueled car. Where the Leaf only has a battery, and a hybrid uses gas, a battery that recharges itself and can’t be plugged in, the Volt has a 9.3 gallon fuel tank and a rechargeable, 430-pound, 300-volt battery that powers two 115 kilowatt motors, providing about 35 miles on a full charge. It’s safe to say that the Volt won’t stop global warming, but in a nation addicted to crude oil, you can’t argue with the gesture.

As I chat with Courtney, Mike Mercer arrives. Mike is Banks’ Service Manager and a self-confessed “electric car guy.” I can see in his eyes he loves the Volt. Mike takes pains to explain everything, from the Volt’s 112 mpg to its three speed options (Standard, Mountain and Sport – “The Sport mode will push you back into your seat!”), to its four-cylinder, 1.4 liter internal combustion engine to its stinger of a sticker price ($46,000 fully loaded) and the federal tax rebate (“You’ll get $7,500 back on your taxes,” Mike tells me).

My ride arrives, and it’s red, with grey and black interior, a huge “Volt” decal painted on the side. As Mike shows me the two dashboards, he reminds me to “Keep the green ball in the middle,” pointing to the meter on the screen, explaining that steady driving keeps the ball balanced in the middle as a reminder not to drive like a lunatic. “Aggressive driving will drain the battery pretty fast,” Mike tell me.

I’m still amazed that all it took was a simple email, and I’m sitting in a beautiful new car, ready to drive away for the weekend. Courtney and Mike must really trust in the kindness of strangers, or they know I won’t get far with a huge “Volt” decal in splashy writing on the side.

For the past few years, I’ve had a minor obsession with the idea of an electric car. Maybe it’s the fact that my older brother works in the industry, or that I never learned to drive a stick shift or that these cars seem like the first step towards flying cars and jet packs. Or it could be that my ‘03 Honda Accord has over 200,000 miles on it and drinks oil like pretend vegans drink soy lattes. Either way, I’ve been dying to drive one, and today’s my lucky day.

Mike gives me a few last pointers, and I’m off, zooming down Manchester Street, trying to keep the green ball in the happy zone. And as I turn on the radio, Edgar Winter sings, “Come on and take a free ride . . .” Don’t mind if I do, Edgar, don’t mind if I do.

I arrive home, giddy at the thought that I’m about to plug my car in! The battery shows only 9 miles remaining, so I get the big charger, pop open the fuel tank, and plug one end into the car and the other into the outlet in the garage. Mike told me I should see a stream of green lights on the power cord’s housing, but I only see red. I try it again but still no luck. I switch outlets in the garage, pulling our cars out on the street while I maneuver the Volt. Still nothing. I pull the Volt out of the garage and run the cord into the kitchen. I then realize the Volt has a keyless lock feature - when you’re about 20 feet away from the car with the key in your pocket, the car locks. This is swell, except if you unplug an electric car while the car is locked, the alarm sounds. I’ve now set this off four times, and I’m sure my neighbors are wondering what I’m up to.

I try another plug and another, resorting to a web search where I read about Volt owners who’ve had issues with their chargers. I even call Mike at home and ask him what to do – he tells me to come back tomorrow and they’ll swap out the chargers.

But I refuse to go quietly into the chargeless night and head to the only public electric charging stations in Concord – three silver kiosks outside the new Courtyard by Marriott on Hall Street. I drive up and notice that all three stations are blocked by non-electric cars. How dare these Luddite Neanderthals ruin my plans! I storm towards the front desk to register my complaint and then realize I’m not a hotel guest and quickly turn around and drive home. The battery is down to zero, I’m driving on gas and my first evening with the Volt lacks the spark I seek.

After a quick swap-out of the defective charger the next morning, I’m ready to roll. I’ve drained the battery and watch my overall gas mileage drop from over 200 to around 95 as the gas engine kicks in. I head to the dry cleaner and get my first comment of the weekend. “You get a new car? Looks pretty cool!” says the young woman behind the counter. I seize upon the moment to tell her all about the Volt. She loses interest when I start talking about dedicated charging lines, five-star crash ratings and the 110v versus 220v debate that rages in the electric car community. “Do you want medium or heavy starch on your shirts?” she asks. But it’s an electric car!

After a quiet morning of yard work and battery charging, I head up 93 North. With close to 15 miles on the battery, I take Mike’s advice and try the Sport mode. The car does pin my ears back and handles like a dream. Before I reach Canterbury, the battery’s drained, the engine switching seamlessly to gas.

“What’s ‘Volt’? You selling energy drinks?” a woman asks me. I begin my explanation, and she says, “Energy drinks or skis. I was wondering what you were selling,” not listening to a word I’m saying.

Later that night, a friend drives up to the house, asking, “Why is that car plugged into the garage?” And then on Sunday, as my daughter and I take the fully charged car out for a little aimless driving, I pull into the parking lot of a local ice cream stand. An older woman in matching sweatshirt and pants, balancing what appears to be an entire quart of ice cream on a cone in her hand, shakes her head in apparent disapproval. Someone else points and says something I can’t hear. I resist the urge to pull over and wax poetic on the virtues of clean cars and needing only one oil change per year, but the Lady in the ‘80’s track suit is lingering, and I don’t want a volley of Moose Tracks to spoil my day.

We arrive home, and I examine the tally on the dashboard. We started with a fully charged battery with 33 available miles. We went 28.9 miles, used no gas, burned 9.3 kilowatt hours of electricity and averaged 250 miles per gallon. If that’s not a new definition of “Sunday Driver,” I don’t know what is.

After another attempt at a public charging on Hall Street, which ended with a phone call to a service center somewhere south of Bangalore and a promise of a free charge card that’s yet to arrive, I realize there are no working charging stations anywhere near or within Concord. At least the Volt gives you a fighting chance with its gas engine. Driving a Nissan Leaf, with 100 total miles on the battery, means you best plan your driving routes or have one really long extension cord.

I’m sad to return my Volt on Monday morning. As I wait at a stop sign on the way to the dealership, a man on a bicycle passes in front of me. He wears a yellow safety bib with the words, “One Less Car” stenciled across the back as he rides in front of the Volt. I give him a knowing wave, hoping for the slightest recognition that this car could help make a difference. He never even turns to look as he churns the pedals around and around and around. “But this car is electric!” I say to myself, “This car is electric.”