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The Motocompacto is silly, impractical, and a lot of fun.
Ever since moving back to New York City a year ago, I’ve gotten really into e-biking. The city upped the number and quality of e-bikes in its bikeshare program, and I’ve been
taking full advantage. But the e-bikes are so popular, they aren’t always available, and I’ve been wondering if it might be time to invest in my own ride.
Enter the Motocompacto. Honda’s new whimsical, seated e-scooter immediately caught my eye when I saw a story announcing its pending arrival in September. I live on the third floor of a building with no bike storage, so I was intrigued by the possibility of folding up the Motocompacto and carrying it up the stairs. And at $995, it was cheaper than most e-bikes on the market, which tend to range from $1,200 to $3,000. Also, just look at it.
Courtesy of Honda
But also ... just at look it. Why does it resemble a suitcase? Can you ride around on it without feeling completely silly? And why did Honda, which doesn’t even have a fully electric vehicle yet, make this thing?
The scooter became available for purchase Wednesday at Honda and Acura dealerships around the country, and I jumped at the chance to find out.
I already knew the Motocompacto had a fun, retro backstory. It was inspired by the
Motocompo, a badass miniature motorized scooter that Honda sold in Japan between 1981 and 1983 as an accessory to another sweet Japan exclusive, the Honda City. But there’s a lot more to the story, as I found out when I arrived at the test-drive site in Manhattan on Wednesday, and met with Jane Nakagawa, the vice president of the research and development business unit at Honda, and Nick Ziraldo, a design engineering manager who led the product development.
Nakagawa told me the scooter was initially pitched for an annual contest at the Honda design studio. The concept was the McDonald’s Happy Meal — or rather, the collectible toy inside that lures children. A designer of the Prologue, Honda’s upcoming entry in the electric vehicle space, wanted to find a way to make Honda’s EVs stand out in a crowded field. “He said, ‘what if the Motocompacto was the toy, and the burger was the car?’” Nakagawa recounted.
It’s not the cleanest analogy, because the Motocompacto won’t be a free accessory to the Prologue. Then again, the scooter really is very toy-like. My colleague, Jeva Lange, pointed out that it looks like one of those ride-on suitcases for kids.
Anyway, when the idea reached Ziraldo, who typically works on vehicle accessories like trailer hitches and roof racks, he was smitten enough to take it on as a passion project. “I’ve been developing this as a second job at night after my kids go to bed,” he told me. When I asked him if it was exciting to see the Motocompacto out in the real world, he lit up, and said it wasn’t something he ever expected to happen in his career.
He recalled the first time he rode the prototype that most resembled the final product. It was icy outside, so he took the scooter down to the vehicle safety lab where they crash cars. “I waited until everybody went home, and then in the dark, I was riding around by myself on this thing, and it felt fun. It felt like a Honda to me for the first time.”
When I hit the bike path in Manhattan next to the Hudson River, I could see what he meant. At first I felt a little unstable. I’m used to the bulky, heavy, e-bikes, and the Motocompacto is narrow and ultra-light by comparison. But unlike the e-bikes, which tend to lurch forward when you first start pedaling, the acceleration was smooth. I also felt a lot more safe and comfortable on it than I do on a stand-up scooter. Within a minute I was cruising, totally at ease, and grinning like a little kid.
The scooter has two modes, and the speed is controlled by a throttle on the handlebar. The first mode caps the speed at 10 miles per hour, the second at 15. It’s not slow, exactly, but it’s slower than the 20 miles-per-hour that the electric Citi Bikes can achieve. I wondered how it would fare going up a hill, or bumping along one of the city’s more torn-up streets — especially since the body rode so low to the ground. And as Citi Bikes sped past me, I did feel a bit silly.
Ziraldo said they capped the speed at 15 mph because if it went any faster, you’d need a license and registration to drive it, according to regulations for this class of scooter. The bike also only has a range of 12 miles on a single charge. That would probably be enough for my needs, assuming I’d remember to be diligent about charging it. (A full charge takes about 3.5 hours.) But most e-bikes and scooters on the market have a range closer to 30 miles, if not more.
As for portability, I found it a bit laborious to pack up and then reassemble , though I’d probably get the hang of it with practice. Ziraldo, a seasoned pro, had it down to less than 30 seconds. The weight — just over 40 pounds — also felt heavier than I’d hoped, but manageable.
The most befuddling aspect of the design was the lack of storage space. Ziraldo suggested that you could stow a water bottle or laptop in the narrow slot in the body of the vehicle. The problem is, that’s where the seat and handlebars go, so you’d probably have to take everything out if you wanted to fold up the scooter upon arrival.
Which leads me to the question of who, or what, is this rideable attaché case for? Though it checks a lot of boxes, I came to the conclusion it wasn’t quite rugged or all-purpose enough for life in New York. I could see it being a fun option for a ride to school in the suburbs, or getting around a more sprawling city with better maintained roads. Ziraldo thinks it will be helpful for “last mile” trips, like the distance between one’s house and a transit stop, or a parking garage and a final destination. He also thinks of it as the “perfect campus commuter.” That’s probably the scenario that felt most realistic to me.
I got the impression that the team at Honda prioritized making a winsome little ride over more practical matters. “In the end, there were certain non-negotiables,” Nakagawa told me. “That overall shape was non-negotiable, and the fact that everything folds into it was non-negotiable.”
There’s nothing wrong with making a showpiece or a plaything, but the Motocompacto seems more primed to become a supplement to driving than a serious alternative. And while the scooter will certainly appeal to adults, I suspect the product might be more successful with a younger audience. “In fact, we’re kind of excited that it could be the first new Honda for a 12 year old, you know, without a driver’s license,” Nakagawa told me. “That’s something we’re looking forward to.”
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A conversation with VDE Americas CEO Brian Grenko.
This week’s Q&A is about hail. Last week, we explained how and why hail storm damage in Texas may have helped galvanize opposition to renewable energy there. So I decided to reach out to Brian Grenko, CEO of renewables engineering advisory firm VDE Americas, to talk about how developers can make sure their projects are not only resistant to hail but also prevent that sort of pushback.
The following conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Hiya Brian. So why’d you get into the hail issue?
Obviously solar panels are made with glass that can allow the sunlight to come through. People have to remember that when you install a project, you’re financing it for 35 to 40 years. While the odds of you getting significant hail in California or Arizona are low, it happens a lot throughout the country. And if you think about some of these large projects, they may be in the middle of nowhere, but they are taking hundreds if not thousands of acres of land in some cases. So the chances of them encountering large hail over that lifespan is pretty significant.
We partnered with one of the country’s foremost experts on hail and developed a really interesting technology that can digest radar data and tell folks if they’re developing a project what the [likelihood] will be if there’s significant hail.
Solar panels can withstand one-inch hail – a golfball size – but once you get over two inches, that’s when hail starts breaking solar panels. So it’s important to understand, first and foremost, if you’re developing a project, you need to know the frequency of those events. Once you know that, you need to start thinking about how to design a system to mitigate that risk.
The government agencies that look over land use, how do they handle this particular issue? Are there regulations in place to deal with hail risk?
The regulatory aspects still to consider are about land use. There are authorities with jurisdiction at the federal, state, and local level. Usually, it starts with the local level and with a use permit – a conditional use permit. The developer goes in front of the township or the city or the county, whoever has jurisdiction of wherever the property is going to go. That’s where it gets political.
To answer your question about hail, I don’t know if any of the [authority having jurisdictions] really care about hail. There are folks out there that don’t like solar because it’s an eyesore. I respect that – I don’t agree with that, per se, but I understand and appreciate it. There’s folks with an agenda that just don’t want solar.
So okay, how can developers approach hail risk in a way that makes communities more comfortable?
The bad news is that solar panels use a lot of glass. They take up a lot of land. If you have hail dropping from the sky, that’s a risk.
The good news is that you can design a system to be resilient to that. Even in places like Texas, where you get large hail, preparing can mean the difference between a project that is destroyed and a project that isn’t. We did a case study about a project in the East Texas area called Fighting Jays that had catastrophic damage. We’re very familiar with the area, we work with a lot of clients, and we found three other projects within a five-mile radius that all had minimal damage. That simple decision [to be ready for when storms hit] can make the complete difference.
And more of the week’s big fights around renewable energy.
1. Long Island, New York – We saw the face of the resistance to the war on renewable energy in the Big Apple this week, as protestors rallied in support of offshore wind for a change.
2. Elsewhere on Long Island – The city of Glen Cove is on the verge of being the next New York City-area community with a battery storage ban, discussing this week whether to ban BESS for at least one year amid fire fears.
3. Garrett County, Maryland – Fight readers tell me they’d like to hear a piece of good news for once, so here’s this: A 300-megawatt solar project proposed by REV Solar in rural Maryland appears to be moving forward without a hitch.
4. Stark County, Ohio – The Ohio Public Siting Board rejected Samsung C&T’s Stark Solar project, citing “consistent opposition to the project from each of the local government entities and their impacted constituents.”
5. Ingham County, Michigan – GOP lawmakers in the Michigan State Capitol are advancing legislation to undo the state’s permitting primacy law, which allows developers to evade municipalities that deny projects on unreasonable grounds. It’s unlikely the legislation will become law.
6. Churchill County, Nevada – Commissioners have upheld the special use permit for the Redwood Materials battery storage project we told you about last week.
Long Islanders, meanwhile, are showing up in support of offshore wind, and more in this week’s edition of The Fight.
Local renewables restrictions are on the rise in the Hawkeye State – and it might have something to do with carbon pipelines.
Iowa’s known as a renewables growth area, producing more wind energy than any other state and offering ample acreage for utility-scale solar development. This has happened despite the fact that Iowa, like Ohio, is home to many large agricultural facilities – a trait that has often fomented conflict over specific projects. Iowa has defied this logic in part because the state was very early to renewables, enacting a state portfolio standard in 1983, signed into law by a Republican governor.
But something else is now on the rise: Counties are passing anti-renewables moratoria and ordinances restricting solar and wind energy development. We analyzed Heatmap Pro data on local laws and found a rise in local restrictions starting in 2021, leading to nearly 20 of the state’s 99 counties – about one fifth – having some form of restrictive ordinance on solar, wind or battery storage.
What is sparking this hostility? Some of it might be counties following the partisan trend, as renewable energy has struggled in hyper-conservative spots in the U.S. But it may also have to do with an outsized focus on land use rights and energy development that emerged from the conflict over carbon pipelines, which has intensified opposition to any usage of eminent domain for energy development.
The central node of this tension is the Summit Carbon Solutions CO2 pipeline. As we explained in a previous edition of The Fight, the carbon transportation network would cross five states, and has galvanized rural opposition against it. Last November, I predicted the Summit pipeline would have an easier time under Trump because of his circle’s support for oil and gas, as well as the placement of former North Dakota Governor Doug Burgum as interior secretary, as Burgum was a major Summit supporter.
Admittedly, this prediction has turned out to be incorrect – but it had nothing to do with Trump. Instead, Summit is now stalled because grassroots opposition to the pipeline quickly mobilized to pressure regulators in states the pipeline is proposed to traverse. They’re aiming to deny the company permits and lobbying state legislatures to pass bills banning the use of eminent domain for carbon pipelines. One of those states is South Dakota, where the governor last month signed an eminent domain ban for CO2 pipelines. On Thursday, South Dakota regulators denied key permits for the pipeline for the third time in a row.
Another place where the Summit opposition is working furiously: Iowa, where opposition to the CO2 pipeline network is so intense that it became an issue in the 2020 presidential primary. Regulators in the state have been more willing to greenlight permits for the project, but grassroots activists have pressured many counties into some form of opposition.
The same counties with CO2 pipeline moratoria have enacted bans or land use restrictions on developing various forms of renewables, too. Like Kossuth County, which passed a resolution decrying the use of eminent domain to construct the Summit pipeline – and then three months later enacted a moratorium on utility-scale solar.
I asked Jessica Manzour, a conservation program associate with Sierra Club fighting the Summit pipeline, about this phenomenon earlier this week. She told me that some counties are opposing CO2 pipelines and then suddenly tacking on or pivoting to renewables next. In other cases, counties with a burgeoning opposition to renewables take up the pipeline cause, too. In either case, this general frustration with energy companies developing large plots of land is kicking up dust in places that previously may have had a much lower opposition risk.
“We painted a roadmap with this Summit fight,” said Jess Manzour, a campaigner with Sierra Club involved in organizing opposition to the pipeline at the grassroots level, who said zealous anti-renewables activists and officials are in some cases lumping these items together under a broad umbrella. ”I don’t know if it’s the people pushing for these ordinances, rather than people taking advantage of the situation.”