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With cars about to get more expensive, it might be time to start tinkering.

More than a decade ago, when I was a young editor at Popular Mechanics, we got a Nissan Leaf. It was a big deal. The magazine had always kept long-term test cars to give readers a full report of how they drove over weeks and months. A true test of the first true production electric vehicle from a major car company felt like a watershed moment: The future was finally beginning. They even installed a destination charger in the basement of the Hearst Corporation’s Manhattan skyscraper.
That Leaf was a bit of a lump, aesthetically and mechanically. It looked like a potato, got about 100 miles of range, and delivered only 110 horsepower or so via its electric motors. This made the O.G. Leaf a scapegoat for Top Gear-style car enthusiasts eager to slander EVs as low-testosterone automobiles of the meek, forced upon an unwilling population of drivers. Once the rise of Tesla in the 2010s had smashed that paradigm and led lots of people to see electric vehicles as sexy and powerful, the original Leaf faded from the public imagination, a relic of the earliest days of the new EV revolution.
Yet lots of those cars are still around. I see a few prowling my workplace parking garage or roaming the streets of Los Angeles. With the faded performance of their old batteries, these long-running EVs aren’t good for much but short-distance city driving. Ignore the outdated battery pack for a second, though, and what surrounds that unit is a perfectly serviceable EV.
That’s exactly what a new brand of EV restorers see. Last week, car site The Autopian covered DIYers who are scooping up cheap old Leafs, some costing as little as $3,000, and swapping in affordable Chinese-made 62 kilowatt-hour battery units in place of the original 24 kilowatt-hour units to instantly boost the car’s range to about 250 miles. One restorer bought a new battery on the Chinese site Alibaba for $6,000 ($4,500, plus $1,500 to ship that beast across the sea).
The possibility of the (relatively) simple battery swap is a longtime EV owner’s daydream. In the earlier days of the electrification race, many manufacturers and drivers saw simple and quick battery exchange as the solution for EV road-tripping. Instead of waiting half an hour for a battery to recharge, you’d swap your depleted unit for a fully charged one and be on your way. Even Tesla tested this approach last decade before settling for good on the Supercharger network of fast-charging stations.
There are still companies experimenting with battery swaps, but this technology lost. Other EV startups and legacy car companies that followed Nissan and Tesla into making production EVs embraced the rechargeable lithium-ion battery that is meant to be refilled at a fast-charging station and is not designed to be easily removed from the vehicle. Buy an electric vehicle and you’re buying a big battery with a long warranty but no clear plan for replacement. The companies imagine their EVs as something like a smartphone: It’s far from impossible to replace the battery and give the car a new life, but most people won’t bother and will simply move on to a new car when they can’t take the limitations of their old one anymore.
I think about this impasse a lot. My 2019 Tesla Model 3 began its life with a nominal 240 miles of range. Now that the vehicle has nearly six years and 70,000 miles on it, its maximum range is down to just 200, while its functional range at highway speed is much less than that. I don’t want to sink money into another vehicle, which means living with an EV’s range that diminishes as the years go by.
But what if, one day, I replaced its battery? Even if it costs thousands of dollars to achieve, a big range boost via a new battery would make an older EV feel new again, and at a cost that’s still far less than financing a whole new car. The thought is even more compelling in the age of Trump-imposed tariffs that will raise already-expensive new vehicles to a place that’s simply out of reach for many people (though new battery units will be heavily tariffed, too).
This is no simple weekend task. Car enthusiasts have been swapping parts and modifying gas-burning vehicles since the dawn of the automotive age, but modern EVs aren’t exactly made with the garage mechanic in mind. Because so few EVs are on the road, there is a dearth of qualified mechanics and not a huge population of people with the savvy to conduct major surgery on an electric car without electrocuting themselves. A battery-replacing owner would need to acquire not only the correct pack but also potentially adapters and other equipment necessary to make the new battery play nice with the older car. Some Nissan Leaf modifiers are finding their replacement packs aren’t exactly the same size, shape or weight, The Autopian says, meaning they need things like spacers to make the battery sit in just the right place.
A new battery isn’t a fix-all either. The motors and other electrical components wear down and will need to be replaced eventually, too. A man in Norway who drove his Tesla more than a million miles has replaced at least four battery packs and 14 motors, turning his EV into a sort of car of Theseus.
Crucially, though, EVs are much simpler, mechanically, than combustion-powered cars, what with the latter’s belts and spark plugs and thousands of moving parts. The car that surrounds a depleted battery pack might be in perfectly good shape to keep on running for thousands of miles to come if the owner were to install a new unit, one that could potentially give the EV more driving range than it had when it was new.
The battery swap is still the domain of serious top-tier DIYers, and not for the mildly interested or faint of heart. But it is a sign of things to come. A market for very affordable used Teslas is booming as owners ditch their cars at any cost to distance themselves from Elon Musk. Old Leafs, Chevy Bolts and other EVs from the 2010s can be had for cheap. The generation of early vehicles that came with an unacceptably low 100 to 150 miles of range would look a lot more enticing if you imagine today’s battery packs swapped into them. The possibility of a like-new old EV will look more and more promising, especially as millions of Americans realize they can no longer afford a new car.
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The proposal resolves an issue that has bedeviled the industry since 2022.
Is Rosemont about to be BAAJA blasted away?
In a 2022 decision formally titled Center for Biological Diversity v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that Rosemont Copper Company its claim under the General Mining Act of 1872 did not give the company license to dump literally millions of tons of waste rock on adjacent Forest Service land. Though Rosemont argued that the use fell under the law’s provisions for “mill sites” on public lands used for mining, the court found that because the parcel in question lacked valid mining claims of its own, the Mining Act did not justify its use under its own permissive regime.
The conservative energy group ClearPath Action described the decision as “a significant departure from long-held mining practices.” Industry groups said that the decision would vastly extend and complicate the process of mining on public lands by putting areas with mineral claims into a separate legal and permitting category from adjacent land that had customarily been considered part of the mining development.
Almost immediately after the court decision, the mining industry and its allies in Congress got to work trying to “fix” the Rosemont decision in order to restore the pre-2022 status quo.
One proposed fix — the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act — has been introduced several times in both houses of Congress, including as far back as 2023 in a Senate bill co-sponsored by Catherine Cortez Masto of Nevada and Jim Risch of Idaho.
Another version of the bill, sponsored by Nevada Republican Mark Amodei, Nevada Democrat Steven Horsford, and Alaska Republican Mark Begich, passed the House of Representatives late last year with a handful of Democratic votes. Both bills would have explicitly established that miners could claim public land for waste rock disposal as long as it was “reasonably necessary” and “reasonably incident” to mineral development.
Now they may all be getting their wish. The comprehensive permitting bill introduced by Republican and Democratic leaders in the Senate known as the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act, includes the full text of the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act
Both parties have been trying to jumpstart the domestic mining and critical minerals industry, especially for materials key to energy sectors, such as copper and lithium. The long lead time it takes to permit and open a mine is one of the major barriers to developing the domestic mining industry (along with nasty price competition from overseas miners and refiners, especially those controlled by Chinese firms).
This is not the first time a bipartisan permitting bill has included what’s known a “Rosemont fix.” There was also one in the 2024 Energy Permitting Reform Act, and in the Senate FREEDOM Act introduced by Cortez Masto and Arkansas Republican Tom Cotton this past summer.
You may have noticed lots of Nevadans associated with these bills. That’s because “Nevada is to mining as Texas is to oil and gas,” Aaron Mintzes, deputy policy director of Earthworks, a frequent and vigorous adversary of the mining industry, told me
While environmental groups generally supported the Rosemont decision, some groups supporting the clean energy industry backed the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act, including Bipartisan Policy Center’s lobbying arm, the clean energy trade group Advanced Energy United, and the Zero Emission Transportation Association, which includes several copper and lithium companies among its members. (Mintzes described ZETA as “the lithium mining lobby” and an “outlier” among clean energy groups in supporting the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act.)
Instead of a technical fix that would comply with the spirit of existing law, Mintzes described the changes to mining regulation in BAAJA as giving mining companies “a nearly unlimited amount of public lands for their waste dumps, for their roads, for their pipelines, for their transmission lines, and for any other purpose that would be reasonably incident to mining.” That goes beyond the mill sites envisioned by the 1872 law, he said.
The National Mining Association, on the other hand, praised the bill Wednesday, with its president Rich Nolan saying in a statement that the existing permitting process is “mired in duplication, endless litigation and uncertainty,” and that “elected officials on both sides of the aisle have long acknowledged that the status quo cannot continue.”
Albert Gore, the executive director of the Zero Emission Transportation Association, told me that there was a “broad recognition” among miners, refiners, and operators that the Rosemont decision required a statutory fix.
“It needed to be clarified in order to remove uncertainty. It's hard enough to invest in mineral production in the United States,” Gore said.
BAAJA’s mining provisions also include the Abandoned Hardrock Mine Fund, which would be funded by maintenance fees collected by the Department of the Interior under the same 19th century mining law. This fund would support a program established by the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law to clean up abandoned mining sites.
In a transcript of a strategy call between environmental organizations on the BAAJA published by Punchbowl, Mintzes described the fund as “the one good thing I spotted in this bill so far.”
Exploratory projects are making a splash in Maine and Alaska.
A legal brawl is brewing over what could be the nation’s first underwater data centers.
Two subsidiaries of a new LLC named DeepGreen have applied for “preliminary” permits from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission that would give four years of permission for studies and analysis towards constructing underwater data centers off remote coastlines in Maine and Alaska. The data centers as proposed would be powered entirely by tidal energy, as in, the power of waves themselves – a technological innovation from hydropower still being piloted around the world. Project descriptions submitted to FERC lay out what these data centers would look like in broad strokes: hundreds of hydrokinetic turbines, dozens of underwater “data center pods,” and miles of subsea cable. The permits would not authorize construction, which would need its own lengthy review process. But these early green lights would tee both areas up for years of potential conflict over hypotheticals that feel real to those on the ground.
There are upsides from purely a carbon emissions perspective. Relying on tidal energy suggests they’d be greenhouse gas-free, powered by the energy of the ocean. It would also eliminate the land use problem that upends so many AI data center projects. There are also clear environmental risks, as they’re also being suggested in ocean areas often coveted for protection, off coastlines where it’s unclear if the neighboring communities will accept them.
DeepGreen’s Alaska project is proposed within a more than 1,000-acre channel of the Cook Inlet, an estuary coveted by fishermen and wildlife conservation advocates, where fights over resource development already occur often. The upstart company’s Maine project is planned for the northernmost tip of the state, in the Bay of Fundy, which shares a transnational border with Canada. Canadian tidal power generation for the general populace marginally exists today in the Bay of Fundy – with major stipulations for marine life protection because it affects the general nature of water currents.
It’s crucial to note neither project has much information available online, sans brief text file project descriptions available through FERC’s online filing database. There is no public-facing website to date for the project, or for DeepGreen itself. When I contacted Louis Wolfson, a vice president at the company who is listed on company filings, he declined to talk about the developments over the phone and suggested I contact him at an email address listed in FERC application documents. That email address uses a website – “DeepGreenCoastal.com” – that does not seem to exist.
Still, we already know enough to say both development areas are likely to require substantial federal review. Not only does their presence in these waters almost necessitate it but both development areas receive considerable whale traffic. DeepGreen has already acknowledged a need to coordinate passive acoustic monitoring and “non-invasive study methodologies” with the National Marine Fisheries Service, the federal marine protection agency run out of NOAA. The Bay of Fundy is a prominent summer home for the endangered North Atlantic Right Whale and the National Marine Fisheries Service has already intervened in the FERC case for the Maine project, signalling in its filing that Endangered Species Act and fish habitat consultations “may be necessary for the project.”
The Center for Biological Diversity has also filed motions to intervene in both FERC cases, which they tell me is a prelude to potential litigation. “Putting one of these in the ocean just seems like a dystopian nightmare but it was especially alarming because of the areas they want to put these in,” Kristen Monsell, CBD Oceans Program Litigation Director, told me in an interview. “[The motions] are a step required in order for us to participate in the permitting process at FERC and then preserve our ability to challenge the decision in court if we think that’s necessary.”
In Maine, the coastline neighbors are the city of Eastport, which is vociferously opposed to this data center being built. The city passed a moratorium on data center development in response to the project and filed a request to intervene in its FERC case this week. “The City's concerns include potential effects on fisheries, marine habitat, water quality, currents, sediment, underwater noise, electromagnetic fields, equipment heat, existing uses of the waterway, and access to marine resources,” the city stated. “Questions also remain about equipment failure, storm damage, emergency response, equipment recovery, site restoration, and eventual decommissioning. These concerns are specific to the proposed placement and extended operation of computing and energy infrastructure on and beneath the seabed.”
In Alaska, DeepGreen doesn’t face a situation like Eastport with a bustling tourist destination-turned-nemesis, but there’s still quite a bit of local confusion and consternation.
The Kenai Peninsula Borough, which is the equivalent of a county-level government, is currently neutral on the development. But the Alaska Commercial Fisheries Conservation Alliance, a newly-formed nonprofit that includes fishing permit holders in the Cook Inlet, submitted a filing to FERC claiming the project site doesn’t properly take into account existing fishing permit holders and that “a preliminary permit proceeding that advances a project of this scale without any commercial fishing impact assessment” would fail the agency’s public interest obligations.
I asked DeepGreen if it had any comment on the litigation risk around their projects. This is what Louis Wolfson provided: “Preliminary permits under the Federal Power Act do not authorize construction or physical disturbance. Their sole purpose is to establish priority while environmental, bathymetric, and technical feasibility studies are conducted. Stakeholder participation is an expected and healthy part of the FERC regulatory process. DeepGreen welcomes the engagement of conservation organizations, local communities, and regulatory resource agencies as we evaluate whether these sites can deliver low impact, zero carbon infrastructure in full compliance with federal environmental laws."
And more of the week’s biggest fights around project development
1. Ottawa County, Michigan – A congressional district House Democrats are targeting for control of the Lower Chamber is now a battleground over solar development on farmland, and I’m waiting to see if President Trump gets involved.
2. Texas – The Lone Star State sure is action-packed right now, huh? Let’s break down a few of the most important fights.
3. Lincoln County, Oklahoma – A massive wind project in rural Oklahoma is now on hold amidst continued local opposition, according to a Republican member of the state legislature.
4. Clinton County, Indiana – Well hey, at least some places are still approving some things. Like in rural Indiana, where a community actually voted for considering a data center.