Electric Cars, Unplugged

Oil prices have gone through the roof lately with no signs of slowing down. With this in mind, and having the itch to try something new, I’ve been exploring the option of buying an electric car. I figure hybrids only take you halfway there. Why not go completely electric?

I read about electric cars in the latest issue of Make magazine, though these were hobbyists’ cars. I don’t have time to build one, so it was time to look for a complete car. Some asking around brought me to the Triangle Electric Automobile Association club, a local group of electric car enthusiasts. A notice on their webpage told me an electric car owned by the late Jon Mauney was for sale. I made an appointment to see it.

The car is in the posession of Ken, one of the club’s members. He’s been sheperding it for the past two years, as the car hasn’t been exactly well. I met him at home and got a look at the car after work today.

The car is no thing of beauty, to say the least. It’s plastered bumper to bumper with graphics advertising the EV Challenge, a high school competition for building electric cars. The car was covered in dust and pollen as well. It hasn’t moved much in the past two years.

Ken popped the hood for me. I peered at a bewildering assembly of strange boxes and cables. Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore! A large silver box took the place of the engine: a control unit which powered the electric motor. Surrounding the control box were other boxes as well as familiar parts like power steering pumps, an air conditoner, and radiator. There were more parts hidden beneath the control box, including the motor itself.

As we climbed into the dusty car a smell of mold wafted out. I checked the window seals and, sure enough, they were loose. Electric or not, there’s no getting around the fact that the car is twelve years old. I sat in the passenger seat while Ken “cranked” it up.

“Purring like a kitten, Ken!” laughed a neighbor as she walked into the house. There was a purr of sorts, though not from pistons firing. A slight buzz emanated from under the hood – the power steering pump. Not much noise, otherwise. We backed smoothly down the driveway and took a spin around the neighborhood.

As we drive, Ken explained the main issue with the car. “When it works,” he said, “it works great. Only there’s this problem.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll be driving along and all of a sudden the motor will stop.”

“I see.” Houston, we have a problem.

Ken explained his theory that the battery pack was sliding around underneath the car, causing a short in the system. I listened with interest until he turned the driving over to me.

The car handled very solidly. The battery pack underneath the car kept the center of gravity lower than most cars, which I could feel in the steering. It drove smoothly and silently around the hills of Ken’s neighborhood, even packing a surprising amount of power.

I was almost willing to ignore the occasional hiccup when I rounded a corner at the top of a hill. Looking down, the dashboard flashed “ready” and “fault.” The accelerator pedal had no effect. The electric car had done the equivalent of stalling: a fault somewhere had stopped it cold.

“Don’t worry,” said Ken. “Usually all you have to do is turn the key off and on again and it will clear up.”

I tried that to no avail. I grinned at him. “Okay, what do we do now?”

Ken hopped out of the car and pushed it for a few yards until the momentum carried it to the top of the hill. He then hopped inside. The plan was to take a turn at the bottom of the hill that would shift the battery pack in the other direction.

No luck. Still stuck.

Ken’s wife came to rescue us, a role she seemed to have played before (and regretted). The car was left for AAA to deal with. On the way back I asked Ken why the Triangle EAA clubmembers didn’t buy it and fix it.

“That’s a good question,” Ken answered, trailing off.

I learned something important from the experience. Most importantly, electric cars are great when they work, but when they don’t, don’t count on calling your local mechanic. If you can’t fix it yourself, it ain’t gettin’ fixed. The particular car – a converted Geo Prizm – isn’t made anymore. The conversion company went out of business long ago. There’s only your own ingenuity and that of hundreds of electric car enthusiasts to get you going again.

In spite of the issues with this car, I am still enamored with owning an electric car. Perhaps when the right one comes along. At this point in my life, though, I’m not ready to make my car my hobby. For now, electric cars seem to be stuck in first gear.