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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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The data center boom is everywhere you look in U.S. economic and emissions data.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
It isn’t exactly a new thought, but I’ve been struck recently by how many trends in America’s economic and environmental data are fundamentally about the data center boom and the return of electricity demand:
First, the Energy Information Administration reported this week that U.S. emissions grew by more than 2% last year, driven by surging electricity demand and an increase in coal-fired generation. What caused that higher power demand? New factories and data centers — as well as record summertime cooling demand.
Second, many of the new factories driving that higher power demand are themselves producing goods that are … let’s say … data center-adjacent. There are the enormous new semiconductor fabs, of course. But Ford and General Motors have also set up new production lines (or repurposed old ones) to manufacture grid-scale batteries to meet power demand.
Third, take a look at the recent U.S. spending on private non-residential construction — in other words, everything American companies are building that is not houses, condos, or apartments.
The construction industry’s spent almost $60 billion on data centers over the past year, which is more than it spent on all other office buildings combined (and more than it spent building warehouses, too). Just a handful of categories — data centers, power plants, electricity infrastructure, and certain kinds of electronics manufacturing — now make up a third of all U.S. private non-residential construction investment. They’ve never made up such a large share of construction spending since data collection began in 2014.
As The New York Times recently noted, the American economy is unusually dependent on the American stock market right now — and the stock market is unusually dependent on artificial intelligence. This week, investors started to balk at the enormous spending hyperscalers are planning to keep building out the AI boom; Alphabet’s shares dropped 8% this week after it boosted its planned 2026 capital expenditure and signaled 2027 will be even bigger. If the data center boom started to slow down in earnest, then more than just that budget will change.
Speaking of which, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo wrote earlier this week about how many businesses are struggling to even estimate their carbon emissions from artificial intelligence. The carbon accounting startup Watershed recently unveiled a new formula to help companies get a sense of their AI-related emissions.
But even that formula is still limited by the amount of data hyperscalers publish — and they don’t publish that much. Google, for instance, is the only AI company that has (laudably) provided estimates of its emissions on a per-prompt basis. Yet no company has published its per-token emissions, or how emissions sync up with particular models or regions.
So Emily asked Google: Why aren’t you — or any other model provider — disclosing this kind of data yet?
The tech company didn’t get back to us until after we’d published Emily’s story. But its response was interesting enough that I wanted to quote some of it here.
The problem is “industry consensus,” Cooper Elsworth, a Google spokesperson, told us. “There is currently very little consensus on how to comprehensively and fairly measure the serving environmental impact of generative AI (such as text generation),” he wrote. “Without standardized, ‘apples-to-apples’ frameworks, it is difficult to compare different providers accurately.”
That’s partly because energy use — and emissions data — can vary from site to site and depend on “custom-built hardware, software compilers, and advanced inference techniques.” And he claimed Google doesn’t always have the measurement hardware in place to provide such specific estimates: “Providing precise, repeatable data requires highly advanced measurement infrastructure,” he said. “For example, software-based energy monitoring tools often suffer from sampling biases. For our study, we had to step away from top-down averages and directly measure actual energy at the physical power supply unit (PSU) level across our deployed fleet. Not all providers have the telemetry or data sets required to benchmark their operations at this level of granularity.”
Read Emily’s story to understand the other reasons why estimating — or even “guesstimating” — AI-related carbon emissions is so challenging.
A conversation with Emma Uridge of the Kansas Health Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Emma Uridge, analyst with the Kansas Health Institute. Uridge spent copious hours analyzing state and local laws on data center development to best understand how policymakers are responding to the potential environmental public health impacts of large AI infrastructure, including power and water. The report, which came out this week, also goes in depth into those health impacts. I reached out to her to discuss what she sees as must-watch territory for our readers on this emerging policy arena.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is actually being done on policy when it comes to data centers — beyond moratoria of course?
So first I’d like to just talk about the point of moratoria. It’s helpful to talk about how these policies emerge in the first place. One area where moratoria are helpful is when a data center is proposed but the county has no approach for how they’d like to potentially regulate them. That’s temporary, most of the time. It lets local governments conduct research on the various impacts and also negotiate community benefits, ones that can mitigate any potential negative impacts — like Lancaster Pennsylvania, which instituted a community benefit agreement that maximized the potential benefits of development while mitigating what large data centers can do. That agreement looked at capping municipal water use at 20,000 gallons per day and requiring 100% clean energy. It had financial penalties for non-compliance. The company also committed $20 million to their local economic development and clean energy fund. There are ways to negotiate with developers.
We also see amendments to existing zoning. Data center proposals are increasingly popping up in rural areas, many of which are unzoned, so there’s no way a county can negotiate unless there’s a moratorium in place.
Other policy solutions include different performance standards or requiring on-site renewable energy, like what Jefferson County, Missouri, looked at. Also setback requirements, mandatory noise buffers, ending by-right zoning.
Where are local governments getting ideas for regulating data centers?
A lot of the technical information comes from developers. That can in cases be seen as a biased source of information. I wouldn’t say there’s a dedicated group providing assistance to local governments when a project is proposed — which is a similar story to wind industry development, where we have only a handful of consultants who provide technical advice. It can be really helpful to get a multi-disciplinary approach to hearing information. It can be helpful to have the utility commission, public health folks, those in academia, as well as the developer.
As of right now, especially in rural areas, local governments have a hard task of balancing pushback while getting the most accurate, evidence-based, neutral information to make decisions. That balance can be contentious.
What is the federal government doing on data center policy? How is the Trump administration approaching it?
A few things there. In the early days, the drive was for AI expansion and to be competitive with foreign adversaries. Now due to the amount of public pushback in red and blue localities and a more cautious approach.
I’m not seeing a lot of actual policy movement at this time.
I know the EPA is looking at the chemicals used in cooling data centers because when that water is cycled through the system, some of it is discharged into the water system, so they’re looking at the Toxic Substances and Control Act for monitoring that.
How much of an impact does this minimal federal role have on industry behavior?
Y’know, this isn’t specific to data centers. This is true for all kinds of large-scale development: there’s a need to require some sort of federal monitoring and regulation.
That’s where I see an emerging role for public health. At the federal level, there could be policy movement towards requiring some sort of environmental monitoring at data centers to make sure they’re operating responsibility. Looking at specific water use relative to water availability and what happens when there’s a time of severe, persistent drought. With air quality too — we’ve seen areas where the grid isn’t as reliable so their diesel generators are kicking on more and affecting air quality for residents.
We’re just not seeing all of that right now. We need corporate disclosure.
What do you see as the most important public health impacts from data center development?
It varies by localities. The most discussed obviously is water usage. One thing I’d note about my conversations with folks enthusiastic around emerging tech is, there are still questions that need to be asked about the capacity of localities to support a data center. Like a small town in Kansas may only be using 40% of their water for their utility needs. If a data center came online, how much of that water goes to the data center?
One area underexplored within the public health discipline is energy poverty and energy security. The ability of a household to meet the needs of everything energy provides in our lives. It’s known we have an aging electric grid but we’re not talking enough about large-scale blackouts when the grid is not sufficient to support some of these new data centers.
Plus more of the week’s big development fights.
1. Laramie County, Wyoming — Meta is fighting the fine it received in the Cheyenne data center water pollution controversy, and the conflict between the tech giant and the city’s small board of public utilities is continuing to spill out into the public.
2. Niagara County, New York — This county just rejected a solar project’s highway work permits in a show of retaliation against the state’s Office of Renewable Energy Siting.
3. Barron County, Wisconsin — The anti-solar protest is the new campaign stop in deep red Wisconsin.
4. Chesapeake, Virginia — A large battery storage project on the Virginia coastline is on the rocks amidst rampant local opposition.
5. Lewis County, West Virginia — West Virginia is now a key battleground in the fight over transmission, as a line spanning all of West Virginia and Maryland — and cutting through Data Center Alley in Virginia — causes compounding consternation.