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You probably know your car’s fuel economy. But do you know its emissions per mile?

If you drive a gas-powered car, you almost certainly know its fuel economy. But do you know how much carbon your car emits?
Probably not. Here in America, at least, it’s not something we think about in concrete terms, like miles per gallon or the money we save at the pump by buying a more efficient car — but it probably should be.
In general, there’s a direct correlation between fuel consumption and CO2 emissions: the more gas you use, the more CO2 your car produces. That means we often use miles per gallon as a shorthand for pollution. But if you’re concerned about your carbon footprint, there’s clarity in knowing the actual emissions produced by your car.
In other parts of the world, governments make sure people can turn knowledge of CO2 consumption into power. If you’ve ever been to Europe and seen a car ad anywhere, you’ve probably seen a “Closed course, professional driver”-style line of text detailing that vehicle’s CO2 emissions. That’s because they have to do this. The European Union has for years required automakers to disclose their cars’ emissions in ads across multiple platforms.
In America, these carbon-related metrics aren’t nearly as publicized. The closest equivalents we have are the metrics on a new car’s window sticker, which are required for consumer transparency purposes. Here you’ll find an important figure: CO2 emissions per mile. It’s tiny, like fine print, but it’s there. It’s essentially the same thing you see in those European ads, just not using the Metric system, obviously, and they go out of their way to drive this point home; us, not so much.
These ratings come from the EPA. The last major revision to how these labels look came about a decade back. But it’s also part of a bigger, more confusing package on the sticker. On one graph, you see a rating of fuel economy and CO2 emissions combined together, while the “smog rating” measures pollutants like nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide and particulate matter. These are rated on a not-very-helpful scale of 1 through 10.
But unlike in Europe, our CO2 emissions figures aren’t really something we see or consider when buying a car; they don’t even appear in car reviews, generally. I’ve probably written thousands of those and I’ve never once included it.
Now, here’s what the label doesn’t say, but the EPA does: the average passenger vehicle in America emits about 400 grams of CO2 per mile. If you have the free time to go to FuelEconomy.gov, you can find out how your car ranks there and it could — should, I’d argue — help inform your next car purchase.
Take my car, a Mazda 3 hatchback with the model’s larger 2.5-liter engine. The EPA says it produces 301 grams of CO2 per mile, so better than average and way better than, say, a 2023 Bronco Raptor example, a high-performance off-road SUV that’s fun but emits 577 grams of CO2 per mile.
Let’s say I decide I can go a little greener than my car, but I’m not ready to completely break up with gasoline just yet; a new 2023 Toyota Prius hybrid puts out just 155 grams of CO2 per mile in its base trim. What a champion, and further proof that hybrids are a great tool for bringing down emissions right now.
Now, if I need more room for my 12-pound dog (he can take up a surprising amount of space when he wants to) I could get a Honda CR-V Hybrid, which puts out 237 grams of CO2 per mile. Not as good as the smaller Prius, but still better than average.
Internal combustion engines have gotten much cleaner over the years and smaller engines obviously emit less. A Chevrolet Equinox with a small, turbocharged four-cylinder engine puts out 310 grams of CO2 per mile, while a V8-powered Chevrolet Tahoe emits 527 grams of CO2 over a mile.
But car size matters here too. If I had purchased a bigger 2018 Mazda CX-5 crossover instead of my hatchback, I’d be putting out an extra 21 grams of CO2 per mile even though the cars have the same engine. Plenty of people might make the size tradeoff even if it meant a hit to fuel economy, but how might they feel if they knew the difference in CO2 as well?
Now let’s put all of those numbers into context. The EPA says the average American vehicle — something it claims does about 22.2 miles per gallon and drives 11,500 miles per year, which all tracks with my experience — emits about 4.6 metric tons of CO2 per year. That’s one vehicle, and just an average one to boot. In the grand scheme of things, that one vehicle contributed to what the U.S. Energy Information Administration claims was 1.476 billion metric tons of CO2 in 2022 from the entire transportation sector — or about 30% of total U.S. energy-related CO2 emissions that year. Granted, you can’t put that whole number on cars, but it’d be great if consumers knew more about what parts their purchases play in all of it.
Of course, there’s a clear winner here: electric vehicles. They all emit 0 grams of CO2 per mile, underscoring how important EVs are to decarbonization.
Still, that figure — while vital — elides a lot of differences. A Tesla Model 3 and a GMC Hummer EV both have no tailpipe emissions, which is true. But one is a compact sedan and the other is a 9,600-pound behemoth of an SUV; in fact, it’s so heavy it’s not even required to list such figures on its window sticker, so good luck finding it on the EPA’s website. The Hummer will clearly need much more energy to fully charge than a small Tesla. The two may be EVs but they are not created equal. It would be nice to see some kind of data tied to charging, despite the many variables involved there, particularly since 60% of our electricity is still generated by fossil fuels.
The only thing we have to easily compare them is MPGe, the deeply flawed, barely understood metric for ranking the energy consumption of hybrid and electric cars. That would be miles per gallon equivalent, an EPA-created metric that measures energy consumption in comparison to a gasoline vehicle. But how useful is that, really? Besides telling you the obvious, that EVs are more efficient at how they use energy overall than ICE vehicles, it doesn’t help you know anything about emissions or even energy costs. It’s also a terrible way to explain to someone what really matters, as The Drive pointed out last year: lower efficiency means charging more frequently.
Even better would be a rating that lets you compare life-cycle emissions — i.e. not just the emissions from tailpipes, but the emissions generated by the construction of a vehicle. Here, you’ll find some surprising data: while EVs overall have much lower life cycle emissions than gas cars, the biggest EVs end up just as polluting as small gasoline cars by that metric because they are so resource-intensive to make.
Yet most automakers don’t publish that data, even if they know it themselves. What we have are a handful of estimates cobbled together by enterprising researchers and journalists. There’s definitely no comprehensive database. And the EPA’s way of speaking to consumers still feels focused on what they’ll spend at the pump.
The point is, it would be amazing if customers were made more aware of the CO2 impact from their cars — from tailpipe emissions or from charging, although it’s been proven time and time again the latter is less harmful than the former long-term. I would love to see American buyers start to consider emissions the same way we have thought about fuel economy for decades. Perhaps this would entice people to make better purchasing decisions, even if they come down to slight differences between two competing vehicles.
I don’t love putting environmentalism solely on ordinary, individual people; our decisions matter, but arguably less so than major corporations. We purchase the cars we’re given, and thanks in part to our absurd regulations, small cars are dying and the market has shifted to SUVs and trucks. What’s worse, EVs are still mostly very expensive and not nearly enough places offer choices like safe bike lanes or widely available public transit.
But I think putting CO2 emissions, and their effects, more in front of drivers’ minds is a good start. It’s time for all of us to try and think beyond just saving on gas.
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Plus, a look into the future of solar and wind tax credits.
Heatmap AM and Daily will be off tomorrow for the July 4 holiday, but we’ll see you back here on Monday.
We’re staring down the barrel of a holiday weekend here in the United States, so I’ll keep it quick. Two things:
July 4 will mark the formal end of the solar and wind tax credits in the United States. These incentives — which date back in some form to 1978 — were repealed by President Trump’s tax cuts and spending law last year. In order to qualify for the last of these subsidies, solar and wind projects must “commence construction” by Saturday and be ready to generate power by the end of 2027.
Although the policies haven’t yet expired, there’s already chatter about bringing them back. Some Democrats want to revive the incentives should they win back Congress and the White House in two or six years. But 2029 or 2032 will likely look different than the earlier years of this decade, when the Inflation Reduction Act was written and passed: Power prices are higher now, the grid more congested, and the federal budget more constrained. So today, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo previews one of the next big questions in climate policy: Should Democrats try to bring back the solar and wind tax credits?
Her story is great, and one disconnect in particular stuck out to me. Among the climate and clean energy wonks Emily interviewed, “everyone” agreed that “in the near term, the most important thing Congress could do to help clean energy is break down some of the non-cost barriers to development through permitting reform.” Permitting reform, after all, has no fiscal cost and could be achieved during this Congress.
But Democratic lawmakers themselves sound far less sure about its importance. “I don’t think Democrats can engage in a serious way with Republicans on permitting reform,” Representative Jared Huffman, the ranking member on the House Natural Resources Committee, tells her. Read the rest of Emily’s story for more on how lawmakers are thinking about this question, which will only get more important as we get closer to ‘28.
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We’ve begun to get Q2 sales data for global automakers — and there’s actually decent news for electric vehicles. Some highlights:
Enjoy your holiday weekend, and remember: We’re now in Q3. Thanks, as always, for reading.
And not for the first time.
The Department of Energy proposed sweeping changes to its rules for updating efficiency standards for household appliances on Thursday. If finalized, they would hamstring future administrations from issuing tighter standards that would save consumers money as higher-performing air conditioners, stoves, washing machines, refrigerators, and the like hit the market.
While the agency portrayed the move as bringing an end to appliance standards writ large, that is not, in fact, what it is doing. The proposal would update the DOE’s so-called “Process Rule,” which governs how the agency develops standards, adding onerous requirements that will make it much more difficult to make any changes at all.
Under the Energy Policy and Conservation Act, the DOE is generally required to review existing standards every six years and assess whether recent technological advances warrant raising the bar for efficiency for any given product category. Updating the standards involves extensive technological and economic analysis, including looking at the cost to manufacturers and payback periods for consumers, as well as several rounds of public comment. After a new standard is issued, products that fail to meet that level of efficiency have to be taken off the market.
The new proposal delivers on the appliance industry’s request that President Trump restore the process he finalized during his first term, which Biden swiftly reversed. The changes include raising the minimum energy savings required to issue a new standard, adding several more steps and requirements to the rulemaking process for new standards, and using industry-developed test procedures to measure the efficiency of new products.
“This obstacle course of restrictions would hinder the department from carrying out its congressional mandate to protect consumers,” Andrew deLaski, executive director of the Appliance Standards Awareness Project, said in a statement. “We have products that keep getting more efficient and we need to embrace these technological advances, not reject them, especially as data centers strain our electric grid.”
Manufacturers welcomed the announcement. “AHAM applauds the Department of Energy for acting swiftly and delivering a proposed Process Rule that reflects years of constructive engagement with manufacturers, consumers, and other stakeholders,” Kelly Mariotti, the Association of Home Appliance Manufacturers’ president and CEO, said in a statement. The Air-Conditioning, Heating, and Refrigeration Institute also told me it “strongly supports DOE’s review” of the rules, although both groups said they were still working through the proposal.
The Energy Department issued a request for information last April seeking comments on potential changes to its procedures for revising energy conservation standards. At the time, the industry’s biggest trade groups urged the agency to “return to the 2020 version of the Process Rule.”
Trump has long been sympathetic to the industry’s ire over ever-tightening standards. He’s complained about dishwashers and heating systems that no longer work and showers that slow to a trickle. Now, Energy Secretary Chris Wright has joined in, grumbling about clothes dryers that run for multiple cycles.
The Process Rule changes threaten the potential to create significant consumer savings, however, according to the Appliance Standards Awareness Project. The group estimates that based on recent technological advances, the DOE’s next round of standard updates could save the average U.S. household $160 per year on their utility bills, and businesses a collective $15 billion in annual operating costs over 20 years. The group also projects that updated standards have the potential to reduce summer peak electricity demand 34 gigawatts by 2040, which would be like taking New York City off the grid. There are climate benefits, too, of course — an estimated reduction of 800 million metric tons of carbon emissions through 2050.
Even if finalized, Trump’s changes to the Process Rule will not be irreversible, and could continue to ping pong back and forth between administrations, “creating the kind of uncertainty and instability that makes it difficult for manufacturers to plan, invest, and innovate with confidence to the benefit of American consumers,” according to Mariotti of AHAM. The industry’s hope is for Congress to amend the underlying Energy Policy and Conservation act to “lock these reforms into statute,” she said. One such effort, the Don’t Mess With My Home Appliances Act introduced by Republican Representative Rick Allen of Georgia, passed the House in February.
The DOE’s proposal follows a memorandum of agreement the agency reached with the Environmental Protection Agency in March to take over as the lead agency running the EnergyStar labeling program, which identifies the most efficient appliances in a given category. The Process Rule changes will not affect EnergyStar, however.
The DOE is accepting public comments on its proposal for 30 days and will hold a public meeting on July 15.
Cities like New York, Philadelphia, and Toronto will see more days like this — but the effects of chronic not-so-extreme heat also build up.
The map of the Eastern United States has turned purple.
That’s the color used by the National Weather Service to distinguish the most severe category of extreme heat — a “rare and long-duration” event “with no overnight relief” — which spread like a bruise on Thursday morning from Chicago to Detroit and across the entire state of Ohio. From there, the purple splits north toward Toronto — where Portugal and Croatia will face each other tonight in a Round of 32 match — and down across the 13 original colonies, from Boston to New York City to Washington, D.C., Richmond, Charlotte, and Atlanta. An estimated 83 million Americans, or about a quarter of the population, are under the most extreme heat warning, with local temperatures cresting 100 degrees Fahrenheit; in many places, humidity will push the heat index up to 15 degrees higher.
That’s killer heat. Although the United States has a higher deployment of air conditioning than Europe, early tallies from the heat wave on the continent in late June found that some 20,000 people died from “heat-exacerbated causes” like heart attacks. In general, in New York City, an estimated 3% of deaths between May and September are due to the heat, a recent city report found — that’s about 500 deaths a year, close to the number of homicides during the city’s year of peak violence in 1990.
“Extreme heat is a chronic stressor that leads to hundreds of deaths in New York City,” Jeff Schlegelmilch, the director of the National Center for Disaster Preparedness at the Columbia Climate School, told me. “I’ve seen models showing the cumulative number of excess deaths over the next several decades could be in the tens of thousands.”
But while heat waves like the one this week bring much-needed attention to the public health crisis, it’s not actually extreme events that are driving those mortality figures. According to the city, about 80% of heat-related deaths in New York occur when temperatures are below 95 degrees Fahrenheit — that is, on hot, but not extremely hot, days. While risk increases with temperature in the way you’d expect, jumping sharply after 90 degrees Fahrenheit is crossed, there are more days in the still-dangerous 82- to 94-degree range on average each summer in New York (74, up from 52 in the 1970s) than extreme heat days like the ones occurring this week (of which there are about 11 per summer).
Schlegelmilch likened the moderate-temperature heat deaths to those during COVID, when it was the frontline workers who were paid hourly, couldn’t take days off, and who lived in more crowded homes who were the hardest hit. “We see those same patterns increasing exposure to heat,” he told me, noting that Latino and Black New Yorkers die from heat stress at rates two to three times higher, respectively, than white New Yorkers.
That said, the majority of people who die from heat-exacerbated causes do so in their homes, which “isn’t necessarily where the totality of the exposure to the heat is,” Schlegelmilch said. In fact, the number of people who die of direct heat stress in New York averages in the single digits per year, by comparison. “If you have to work outdoors, or you have to go back and forth to work and be exposed to the heat, and you go back into a home that is hot, and your body isn’t cooling off at night — this is actually something we’re very worried about tonight and tomorrow night — then the body doesn’t get that break.”
Part of the reason direct heat stress deaths are lower than those caused by chronic exposure is thanks to the agility, urgency, and attention of local governments, which issue heat warnings, promote cooling centers, and take preemptive measures during the worst heat waves — such as Toronto canceling its downtown World Cup watch party this afternoon. In New York this week, kiosks will help direct people to their nearest cooling centers, and local pools will stay open later. Meanwhile, to address more systemic heat impacts on the vulnerable, Mayor Zohran Mamdani has signed an executive order calling for the development and issuance of guidance for protecting outdoor workers and vendors during future heat events.
Because heat-related deaths often take the form of heart attacks, kidney disease, and diabetes, and therefore “don’t fit within the disaster declaration mechanisms” the same way floods or hurricanes do, “we don’t really have good policy to take care of this,” Schlegelmilch added. Particularly in cities with historically colder climates, such as Boston and New York, executive orders like Mamdani’s can be quick fixes, especially when followed by “lengthier and more thoughtful legislation and regulation.” But because the housing stock in such cities is older and, in some cases, even designed to retain heat, saving lives in the long term will require major infrastructure investments, ranging from tree planting to combat the urban heat island effect to expensive retrofitting.
“In the arc of history with disasters, we generally don’t do the things we need to do until it hurts too much,” Schlegelmilch said when I suggested that such a level of investment seems daunting, if not impossible, when spread out over the whole of New York, not to mention the Northeast. “It’s an open question how many people need to die, how many hours of productivity need to be lost, how much strain there is on infrastructure before everybody realizes this is not an abstract problem, that this is happening right now, and that it’s a hell of a lot more expensive to clean up after than to make these investments over the long run.”
An extreme heat wave might not be the primary driver of heat-related mortality in the United States, in other words, but it is certainly an opportunity to push for climate adaptation funding. “It’s not cheap at all,” Schlegelmilch agreed. “But it has to be part of the thinking, because there just isn’t another solution.”