It’s Not Easy Being Green

When Roxanne’s 2007 Volkswagen aged, progressive friends implored, “never buy another internal combustion engine [ICE].”

In early 2022, we began our transition from ICE to electric vehicle [EV] by placing a deposit on a Mini Cooper SE. War and pestilence have changed everything. No longer could we visit a car dealer, drop off a cheque, and drive away. Putin’s invasion temporarily closed the Mini factory in Oxford because its supply chain included the Ukraine. Computer chip shortages limited our Mini’s options. We sourced wheels from Germany, winter tires from Finland, and roof racks from Sweden. There was no guarantee the car would ever arrive, yet it finally reached Vancouver after eight months. Then bureaucrats delayed EV rebates, payment, registration, licensing, and insurance. After many phone calls, we learned that the phrase, “up to $50,000” meant that our bank would issue a draft for only $49,999.99?

Before driving the EV, we learned about batteries and charging systems. We downloaded apps and opened charging station accounts. We studied maps and pinpointed charging stations so Roxanne could drive home. We knew it would take longer than the usual nine-hour ICE drive from Vancouver to Prince George but did not fully anticipate the EV journey.

Roxanne finally took delivery of the Mini ten days before Christmas. She practiced driving the EV around Vancouver for a day and then, on a Friday afternoon, she headed up the freeway. Oops! Did I just say “on a Friday afternoon” heading up the freeway? Reaching speeds as high as 50 kph, Roxanne pondered the insanity of people who choose to live and commute in the lower Fraser Valley.

We had mapped out charging stations in Chilliwack where Roxanne stopped for supper with a friend. Then, with winter storms approaching and a rapidly-draining battery, she drove from station to station, finding four out of service and one plugged up with other cars charging overnight. Range anxiety rose until she reached the sixth station and started charging the car. Midnight approached and she searched for a hotel room. However, this Friday was last day of school before Christmas vacation and no rooms were available — not even a crib for a bed away in a manger. She drove into the night, reaching Hope at 1:00 am where the kind owner of the Slumber Lodge provided a bed.

Five hours later, she awoke and charged the battery to 100% in order reach a charging station beside the bowling alley in Boston Bar. Our plan called for twelve charging stops. There was little room for error because chargers are sparse in the interior of the Province. If a charger failed, Roxanne might be stranded, unable to reach the next station, perhaps forced to rely on the largesse of some wandering cowboy.

The air temperature dropped, reducing the Mini’s battery performance. To stretch the Mini’s range, Roxanne reduced wind drag by driving slowly. She used just enough heat to keep the windows clear and wrapped herself in all her clothing like a mummy with a toque. She had forgotten her mitts and used some precious battery juice to heat the Mini’s steering wheel. She fell in love with the heated steering wheel.

Charging stations presented unforeseen challenges. Without ever removing her toque, Roxanne installed reading glasses to decipher cryptic instructions on tiny charger screens. She wrestled with charging cables that were heavy and stiff at -27° C.  Some cables were frozen into snowbanks. She had to make multiple attempts with plugs to secure solid electrical connections. It took time to determine whether chargers were actually communicating, accepting payment, and delivering electricity. Some stations did not work at all. Because of uncertain distances ahead, she always charged the battery to 100%. However, charging is very slow when the battery level is below 20% or above 80% and is even slower in cold temperatures.

With winter darkness, the air cooled to -31° C. and Roxanne reduced her speed, driving without heat in order to extend range. Painfully cold toes told her that they were not yet frost-bitten. Between Williams Lake and Quesnel, battles with two crucial charging stations determined that they were dead on arrival and could not be revived. Roxanne considered knocking on the door of a parked transport truck and bunking with a sleeping driver. Instead, she crawled up the highway, reaching Quesnel on what we used to call “fumes.”

She found a hotel and asked a young night clerk if she might warm up in the lobby. Recognizing her near-frozen state, the compassionate gentleman sat her in front of a blazing fire. He brought hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, then cookies, fruit, and candy. The lad had been unable to start his own car that day and planned to walk home at the end of his shift. Roxanne guessed that the windchill would feel like -50°C and insisted on driving him home, using a few precious kilometres of the Mini’s range before turning north to Prince George. She finally arrived home, donned a full set of woollen underwear, and crawled into bed at 2:00 am. The perpetual toque remained on her head as she passed out.

The Mini might never return to the highway; at least not until charging infrastructure improves. Climate change is here; prepare for an ICE-free world!