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Big electric vehicles need big batteries — and as electricity gets more expensive, charging them is getting pricier.
As the cost to charge the Rivian R1S ticked up over $50, then $60, I couldn’t help but recall those “Pain at the Pump” segments from the local news. Perhaps you’ve seen the familiar clips where reporters camp out at the local filling station to interview locals fed up with high gas prices. I watched the Rivian charger’s touchscreen as the cost to refuel my weekend test-driver ballooned and imagined the chemically dewrinkled TV anchors doing their first story on “Pain at the Plug.”
I should have been ready for this. Back in the 90s, I remember the shock of filling my parents’ gas-guzzling Ford Explorer, which cost two or three times as much as it took to fill my dinky Escort hatchback. The story isn’t the same in the age of electric vehicles, but it rhymes. It rarely costs more than $20 to top off the small battery in my Tesla Model 3, so my eyes popped a little at the price of refueling a massive EV.
This isn’t a one-to-one comparison, of course: the R1S also goes farther on a charge because of how much energy its huge battery can store, so it’s a bit like comparing a compact car to a Ford F-150 and its 36-gallon gas tank — you’re spending much, much, more, but you’re going a little farther, too. Still, it is a reminder that size matters, whether you’re talking about gas or electric. Under a Trump administration where electricity prices are forecasted to spike, EV shoppers might find themselves thinking the way Americans often have during oil crises and gas price hikes: taking a long look at smaller and lighter vehicles to save money.
The EV weight problem is well-known. To summarize: EVs tend to be weighty because of their massive battery packs. Making electrified versions of the big trucks and SUVs Americans love amplifies the problem. You need very big batteries to store enough energy to give them a decent range, and adding a large lithium-ion unit along the bottom adds even more girth.
Weighty EVs have raised concerns over public safety, since they could be more dangerous to pedestrians, cyclists, and other cars during collisions. Their bulk leads to prematurely worn-out tires, which potentially creates more tire dust and forces drivers to replace their rubber sooner. Bigger batteries need larger amounts of rare metals to make them. And now, in a world of expensive electricity, a heavy EV could hammer a driver’s wallet.
Those of us raised on miles per gallon must learn a new statistical vocabulary to think about the efficiency of EVs. The simplest stat is the number of miles traveled per kilowatt-hour of energy. Lucid, the luxury EV-only startup, has been gunning for the efficiency title with its streamlined Air sedan and has bragged about making 5 miles per kilowatt-hour. By comparison, the current Tesla Model 3 makes around 4 miles per kilowatt-hour, while a big, heavy Rivian gets somewhere in the 2s. (Using a conversion formula from the Environmental Protection Agency to calculate the energy present in a gallon of gas shows that a relatively efficient sedan like the Honda Civic scores around 1, by Lucid’s math, and a big pickup truck even worse.)
These numbers are context-dependent, of course. Just as a gas car or hybrid is judged by its city, highway, and combined mileage, an electric car goes much farther at slow speeds than it does on the highway. A big three-row Hyundai Ioniq 9 EV that can deliver 3 miles or more per kilowatt-hour at slower speeds made right around 2.0 when I sped down Interstate 5, the AC blasting to keep the baby comfortable on a hot California day. The Supercharger bill was enough to make me miss my little Tesla.
The dollars-and-cents calculation is a little different with all-electric vehicles than it was in the all-gasoline era. Drive a gas car and you pay whatever the gas station charges; there is little recourse beyond knowing which service station in your city is the cheapest. With EVs, however, most drivers do their charging primarily at home, where the cost per kilowatt-hour for residential energy is much lower than the inflated cost to refill the battery at a public fast-charger. (Even California’s high cost for home electricity amounts to just half of what some EV fast-chargers cost during afternoon and evening times of peak demand.) But there’s no way to beat the system entirely. Drive a giant, electron-guzzling EV and you’ll be much more vulnerable to a spike in electricity prices.
And it’s not just the cost of recharging a battery — size also matters a lot for the up-front cost of the EV. Americans have become accustomed to paying a premium for larger vehicles, but for combustion cars, this is simply a market phenomenon. It doesn’t cost that much more to build a crossover instead of a sedan, or to give a vehicle a bigger gas tank. The car companies know you’ll pay thousands more for a Toyota RAV4 than for a Corolla. With electric vehicles, however, you’re paying for size in a much more direct fashion. That huge battery needed to move a Rivian is simply much more expensive to build than the one in a Chevy Bolt.
Carmakers are now confronting this problem as they try to crack the affordable EV problem. A subtle detail in Ford’s big announcement last week that it would build a $30,000 mid-size electric pickup is that the vehicle would have a battery perhaps half as big as the one in the F-150 Lightning EV and four times smaller than the biggest one you can get with Chevy’s Silverado EV.
Building a truck with a relatively small battery will undoubtedly slash costs compared to the monster units we’ve seen in full-size electric pickups. It also means that Ford will have to be especially conscious of the vehicle’s weight to maximize the range that can be squeezed out of those few kilowatt-hours. Until battery production costs tumble, that is the way to the more-affordable EV — do more with less.
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A war of attrition is now turning in opponents’ favor.
A solar developer’s defeat in Massachusetts last week reveals just how much stronger project opponents are on the battlefield after the de facto repeal of the Inflation Reduction Act.
Last week, solar developer PureSky pulled five projects under development around the western Massachusetts town of Shutesbury. PureSky’s facilities had been in the works for years and would together represent what the developer has claimed would be one of the state’s largest solar projects thus far. In a statement, the company laid blame on “broader policy and regulatory headwinds,” including the state’s existing renewables incentives not keeping pace with rising costs and “federal policy updates,” which PureSky said were “making it harder to finance projects like those proposed near Shutesbury.”
But tucked in its press release was an admission from the company’s vice president of development Derek Moretz: this was also about the town, which had enacted a bylaw significantly restricting solar development that the company was until recently fighting vigorously in court.
“There are very few areas in the Commonwealth that are feasible to reach its clean energy goals,” Moretz stated. “We respect the Town’s conservation go als, but it is clear that systemic reforms are needed for Massachusetts to source its own energy.”
This stems from a story that probably sounds familiar: after proposing the projects, PureSky began reckoning with a burgeoning opposition campaign centered around nature conservation. Led by a fresh opposition group, Smart Solar Shutesbury, activists successfully pushed the town to drastically curtail development in 2023, pointing to the amount of forest acreage that would potentially be cleared in order to construct the projects. The town had previously not permitted facilities larger than 15 acres, but the fresh change went further, essentially banning battery storage and solar projects in most areas.
When this first happened, the state Attorney General’s office actually had PureSky’s back, challenging the legality of the bylaw that would block construction. And PureSky filed a lawsuit that was, until recently, ongoing with no signs of stopping. But last week, shortly after the Treasury Department unveiled its rules for implementing Trump’s new tax and spending law, which basically repealed the Inflation Reduction Act, PureSky settled with the town and dropped the lawsuit – and the projects went away along with the court fight.
What does this tell us? Well, things out in the country must be getting quite bleak for solar developers in areas with strident and locked-in opposition that could be costly to fight. Where before project developers might have been able to stomach the struggle, money talks – and the dollars are starting to tell executives to lay down their arms.
The picture gets worse on the macro level: On Monday, the Solar Energy Industries Association released a report declaring that federal policy changes brought about by phasing out federal tax incentives would put the U.S. at risk of losing upwards of 55 gigawatts of solar project development by 2030, representing a loss of more than 20 percent of the project pipeline.
But the trade group said most of that total – 44 gigawatts – was linked specifically to the Trump administration’s decision to halt federal permitting for renewable energy facilities, a decision that may impact generation out west but has little-to-know bearing on most large solar projects because those are almost always on private land.
Heatmap Pro can tell us how much is at stake here. To give you a sense of perspective, across the U.S., over 81 gigawatts worth of renewable energy projects are being contested right now, with non-Western states – the Northeast, South and Midwest – making up almost 60% of that potential capacity.
If historical trends hold, you’d expect a staggering 49% of those projects to be canceled. That would be on top of the totals SEIA suggests could be at risk from new Trump permitting policies.
I suspect the rate of cancellations in the face of project opposition will increase. And if this policy landscape is helping activists kill projects in blue states in desperate need of power, like Massachusetts, then the future may be more difficult to swallow than we can imagine at the moment.
And more on the week’s most important conflicts around renewables.
1. Wells County, Indiana – One of the nation’s most at-risk solar projects may now be prompting a full on moratorium.
2. Clark County, Ohio – Another Ohio county has significantly restricted renewable energy development, this time with big political implications.
3. Daviess County, Kentucky – NextEra’s having some problems getting past this county’s setbacks.
4. Columbia County, Georgia – Sometimes the wealthy will just say no to a solar farm.
5. Ottawa County, Michigan – A proposed battery storage facility in the Mitten State looks like it is about to test the state’s new permitting primacy law.
A conversation with Jeff Seidman, a professor at Vassar College.
This week’s conversation is with Jeff Seidman, a professor at Vassar College and an avid Heatmap News reader. Last week Seidman claimed a personal victory: he successfully led an effort to overturn a moratorium on battery storage development in the town of Poughkeepsie in Hudson Valley, New York. After reading a thread about the effort he posted to BlueSky, I reached out to chat about what my readers might learn from his endeavors – and how they could replicate them, should they want to.
The following conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
So how did you decide to fight against a battery storage ban? What was your process here?
First of all, I’m not a professional in this area, but I’ve been learning about climate stuff for a long time. I date my education back to when Vox started and I read my first David Roberts column there. But I just happened to hear from someone I know that in the town of Poughkeepsie where I live that a developer made a proposal and local residents who live nearby were up in arms about it. And I heard the town was about to impose a moratorium – this was back in March 2024.
I actually personally know some of the town board members, and we have a Democratic majority who absolutely care about climate change but didn’t particularly know that battery power was important to the energy transition and decarbonizing the grid. So I organized five or six people to go to the town board meeting, wrote a letter, and in that initial board meeting we characterized the reason we were there as being about climate.
There were a lot more people on the other side. They were very angry. So we said do a short moratorium because every day we’re delaying this, peaker plants nearby are spewing SOx and NOx into the air. The status quo has a cost.
But then the other side, they were clearly triggered by the climate stuff and said renewables make the grid more expensive. We’d clearly pressed a button in the culture wars. And then we realized the mistake, because we lost that one.
When you were approaching getting this overturned, what considerations did you make?
After that initial meeting and seeing how those mentions of climate or even renewables had triggered a portion of the board, and the audience, I really course-corrected. I realized we had to make this all about local benefits. So that’s what I tried to do going forward.
Even for people who were climate concerned, it was really clear that what they perceived as a present risk in their neighborhood was way more salient than an abstract thing like contributing to the fight against climate change globally. So even for people potentially on your side, you have to make it about local benefits.
The other thing we did was we called a two-hour forum for the county supervisors and mayor’s association because we realized talking to them in a polarized environment was not a way to have a conversation. I spoke and so did Paul Rogers, a former New York Fire Department lieutenant who is now in fire safety consulting – he sounds like a firefighter and can speak with a credibility that I could never match in front of, for example, local fire chiefs. Winning them over was important. And we took more than an hour of questions.
Stage one was to convince them of why batteries were important. Stage two was to show that a large number of constituents were angry about the moratorium, but that Republicans were putting on a unified front against this – an issue to win votes. So there was a period where Democrats on the Poughkeepsie board were convinced but it was politically difficult for them.
But stage three became helping them do the right thing, even with the risk of there being a political cost.
What would you say to those in other parts of the country who want to do what you did?
If possible, get a zoning law in place before there is any developer with a specific proposal because all of the opposition to this project came from people directly next to the proposed project. Get in there before there’s a specific project site.
Even if you’re in a very blue city, don’t make it primarily about climate. Abstract climate loses to non-abstract perceived risk every time. Make it about local benefits.
To the extent you can, read and educate yourself about what good batteries provide to the grid. There’s a lot of local economic benefits there.
I am trying to put together some of the resources I used into a packet, a tool kit, so that people elsewhere can learn from it and draw from those resources.
Also, the more you know, the better. All those years of reading David Roberts and Heatmap gave me enough knowledge to actually answer questions here. It works especially when you have board members who may be sympathetic but need to be reassured.