Driving an e-car combines mind and matter

Luis Carasco says the influence of our abundant gas culture can drive an electric vehicle owner mad with anxiety as he learns a new phase.

When my brother asked me what it’s like driving an electric car, my answer was immediate.

“The future,” I said. “It feels like the future.”

Sure, I was being ironically obnoxious (that’s when you you’re being insufferable), but there was some truth in my response.

Press down on the accelerator of an electric car and you don’t feel the engine revving up, you don’t feel the weight of a technology that’s been around for more than 150 years rolling into action. Instead, the car just goes. Silent. Zippy. It doesn’t even make the sputtering-whistle sound the cars on “The Jetsons” made, although sometimes I do. In fact, if I’m feeling particularly futuristic behind the wheel, I’ll whistle the theme to classic “Star Trek.”

My wife and I bought our 2015 Volkswagen e-Golf about two months ago as a second car. It was reasonably priced and better for the environment. We usually ride to work together, but as our schedules diverged, I’ve found myself driving it more. While it’s closer to a glorified golf cart than to the Starship Enterprise, I have no complaints so far. Well, almost no complaints.

Don’t tell my wife, but while she declines straws, lugs around reusable grocery bags and separates our food waste for composting, I tend to bail on being environmentally responsible at the slightest inconvenience. Driving an electric car requires a shift to that mindset, a willingness to accept that we can’t have everything, all the time and as quickly as possible.

This was immediately apparent in keeping the e-Golf running, which clashed with my usual procrastinator’s pattern of not filling up until the car tells me it’s running on fumes. Why bother planning when there’s a gas station on every corner, right?

With an electric car, a little foresight is the difference between getting where you’re going or calling a tow truck to haul you and your space-age vehicle from the side of the road.

That planning requires patience — especially in Texas. If you’re not driving a Tesla, which comes with its own dedicated charging stations, there are only about 20 fast chargers in the greater Houston area. Those guys will have you back on the road with a full battery in between 30 to 45 minutes. If you use the slower type of charger, which is more widely available, you’re looking at hours of sitting in a coffee shop while your car leisurely sips its own venti electron macchiato.

What you’re supposed to do is plug in your car at home every night, so you’re fully charged in the morning. What did recently is go pick up a friend at Bush Intercontinental Airport with what I thought would be enough power to get there and back. The car’s display said I had a range of 50 miles for a 40-mile round trip. What it didn’t tell me is that those 50 miles depend not only on an ideal driver but on ideal weather, too — no speeding down the highway or using the AC.

I should have read the manual.

As I neared the airport and the mileage left ticked down distressingly fast, I started to worry. I had read about “range anxiety” being an obstacle for electric-car adoption, how some people can’t stand the idea that they’ll run out of power before they reach their destination. I skipped over that feeling and went into full-blown “range panic attack.”

“The embarrassment!” I thought. How dumb could I be? More importantly, how dumb would I look?

“Mr. Scott,” I called out. “We need more power!” But while the e-Golf has a backup camera, parking sensors and a navigational system, it does not come with a chief engineer. It was up to me to switch on the Eco-plus mode. This shut off the AC, set acceleration to poky and limited speed to 60 mph.

Thankfully, that did it. I was able to reach the airport and make it back home with at least a mile or two to spare. Crisis averted, and lesson learned. Make that

learned.

Owning an electric vehicle doesn’t just force you to rethink how you refuel, it also makes you question how you use that energy.

Maybe next time, instead of taking the car, I could walk to my destination — or ride a bike or public transportation. Perhaps not to the airport, but what about the grocery store? (And why not take some of those reusable bags, while you’re at it?)

Sure, down that road inconvenience lies, but is that so bad? All our resources are finite, we’re just blessed to live in a place where they’re so abundant we tend to forget there’s a limit, or that those resources come at a cost beyond money.

The more I drive, the more I realize that if I truly care about the environment, I need to do more and work harder.

But nobody said being a Starfleet captain would be easy.