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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.

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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According to a new analysis shared exclusively with Heatmap, coal’s equipment-related outage rate is about twice as high as wind’s.
The Trump administration wants “beautiful clean coal” to return to its place of pride on the electric grid because, it says, wind and solar are just too unreliable. “If we want to keep the lights on and prevent blackouts from happening, then we need to keep our coal plants running. Affordable, reliable and secure energy sources are common sense,” Chris Wright said on X in July, in what has become a steady drumbeat from the administration that has sought to subsidize coal and put a regulatory straitjacket around solar and (especially) wind.
This has meant real money spent in support of existing coal plants. The administration’s emergency order to keep Michigan’s J.H. Campbell coal plant open (“to secure grid reliability”), for example, has cost ratepayers served by Michigan utility Consumers Energy some $80 million all on its own.
But … how reliable is coal, actually? According to an analysis by the Environmental Defense Fund of data from the North American Electric Reliability Corporation, a nonprofit that oversees reliability standards for the grid, coal has the highest “equipment-related outage rate” — essentially, the percentage of time a generator isn’t working because of some kind of mechanical or other issue related to its physical structure — among coal, hydropower, natural gas, nuclear, and wind. Coal’s outage rate was over 12%. Wind’s was about 6.6%.
“When EDF’s team isolated just equipment-related outages, wind energy proved far more reliable than coal, which had the highest outage rate of any source NERC tracks,” EDF told me in an emailed statement.
Coal’s reliability has, in fact, been decreasing, Oliver Chapman, a research analyst at EDF, told me.
NERC has attributed this falling reliability to the changing role of coal in the energy system. Reliability “negatively correlates most strongly to capacity factor,” or how often the plant is running compared to its peak capacity. The data also “aligns with industry statements indicating that reduced investment in maintenance and abnormal cycling that are being adopted primarily in response to rapid changes in the resource mix are negatively impacting baseload coal unit performance.” In other words, coal is struggling to keep up with its changing role in the energy system. That’s due not just to the growth of solar and wind energy, which are inherently (but predictably) variable, but also to natural gas’s increasing prominence on the grid.
“When coal plants are having to be a bit more varied in their generation, we're seeing that wear and tear of those plants is increasing,” Chapman said. “The assumption is that that's only going to go up in future years.”
The issue for any plan to revitalize the coal industry, Chapman told me, is that the forces driving coal into this secondary role — namely the economics of running aging plants compared to natural gas and renewables — do not seem likely to reverse themselves any time soon.
Coal has been “sort of continuously pushed a bit more to the sidelines by renewables and natural gas being cheaper sources for utilities to generate their power. This increased marginalization is going to continue to lead to greater wear and tear on these plants,” Chapman said.
But with electricity demand increasing across the country, coal is being forced into a role that it might not be able to easily — or affordably — play, all while leading to more emissions of sulfur dioxide, nitrogen oxide, particulate matter, mercury, and, of course, carbon dioxide.
The coal system has been beset by a number of high-profile outages recently, including at the largest new coal plant in the country, Sandy Creek in Texas, which could be offline until early 2027, according to the Texas energy market ERCOT and the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis.
In at least one case, coal’s reliability issues were cited as a reason to keep another coal generating unit open past its planned retirement date.
Last month, Colorado Representative Will Hurd wrote a letter to the Department of Energy asking for emergency action to keep Unit 2 of the Comanche coal plant in Pueblo, Colorado open past its scheduled retirement at the end of his year. Hurd cited “mechanical and regulatory constraints” for the larger Unit 3 as a justification for keeping Unit 2 open, to fill in the generation gap left by the larger unit. In a filing by Xcel and several Colorado state energy officials also requesting delaying the retirement of Unit 2, they disclosed that the larger Unit 3 “experienced an unplanned outage and is offline through at least June 2026.”
Reliability issues aside, high electricity demand may turn into short-term profits at all levels of the coal industry, from the miners to the power plants.
At the same time the Trump administration is pushing coal plants to stay open past their scheduled retirement, the Energy Information Administration is forecasting that natural gas prices will continue to rise, which could lead to increased use of coal for electricity generation. The EIA forecasts that the 2025 average price of natural gas for power plants will rise 37% from 2024 levels.
Analysts at S&P Global Commodity Insights project “a continued rebound in thermal coal consumption throughout 2026 as thermal coal prices remain competitive with short-term natural gas prices encouraging gas-to-coal switching,” S&P coal analyst Wendy Schallom told me in an email.
“Stronger power demand, rising natural gas prices, delayed coal retirements, stockpiles trending lower, and strong thermal coal exports are vital to U.S. coal revival in 2025 and 2026.”
And we’re all going to be paying the price.
Rural Marylanders have asked for the president’s help to oppose the data center-related development — but so far they haven’t gotten it.
A transmission line in Maryland is pitting rural conservatives against Big Tech in a way that highlights the growing political sensitivities of the data center backlash. Opponents of the project want President Trump to intervene, but they’re worried he’ll ignore them — or even side with the data center developers.
The Piedmont Reliability Project would connect the Peach Bottom nuclear plant in southern Pennsylvania to electricity customers in northern Virginia, i.e.data centers, most likely. To get from A to B, the power line would have to criss-cross agricultural lands between Baltimore, Maryland and the Washington D.C. area.
As we chronicle time and time again in The Fight, residents in farming communities are fighting back aggressively – protesting, petitioning, suing and yelling loudly. Things have gotten so tense that some are refusing to let representatives for Piedmont’s developer, PSEG, onto their properties, and a court battle is currently underway over giving the company federal marshal protection amid threats from landowners.
Exacerbating the situation is a quirk we don’t often deal with in The Fight. Unlike energy generation projects, which are usually subject to local review, transmission sits entirely under the purview of Maryland’s Public Service Commission, a five-member board consisting entirely of Democrats appointed by current Governor Wes Moore – a rumored candidate for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination. It’s going to be months before the PSC formally considers the Piedmont project, and it likely won’t issue a decision until 2027 – a date convenient for Moore, as it’s right after he’s up for re-election. Moore last month expressed “concerns” about the project’s development process, but has brushed aside calls to take a personal position on whether it should ultimately be built.
Enter a potential Trump card that could force Moore’s hand. In early October, commissioners and state legislators representing Carroll County – one of the farm-heavy counties in Piedmont’s path – sent Trump a letter requesting that he intervene in the case before the commission. The letter followed previous examples of Trump coming in to kill planned projects, including the Grain Belt Express transmission line and a Tennessee Valley Authority gas plant in Tennessee that was relocated after lobbying from a country rock musician.
One of the letter’s lead signatories was Kenneth Kiler, president of the Carroll County Board of Commissioners, who told me this lobbying effort will soon expand beyond Trump to the Agriculture and Energy Departments. He’s hoping regulators weigh in before PJM, the regional grid operator overseeing Mid-Atlantic states. “We’re hoping they go to PJM and say, ‘You’re supposed to be managing the grid, and if you were properly managing the grid you wouldn’t need to build a transmission line through a state you’re not giving power to.’”
Part of the reason why these efforts are expanding, though, is that it’s been more than a month since they sent their letter, and they’ve heard nothing but radio silence from the White House.
“My worry is that I think President Trump likes and sees the need for data centers. They take a lot of water and a lot of electric [power],” Kiler, a Republican, told me in an interview. “He’s conservative, he values property rights, but I’m not sure that he’s not wanting data centers so badly that he feels this request is justified.”
Kiler told me the plan to kill the transmission line centers hinges on delaying development long enough that interest rates, inflation and rising demand for electricity make it too painful and inconvenient to build it through his resentful community. It’s easy to believe the federal government flexing its muscle here would help with that, either by drawing out the decision-making or employing some other as yet unforeseen stall tactic. “That’s why we’re doing this second letter to the Secretary of Agriculture and Secretary of Energy asking them for help. I think they may be more sympathetic than the president,” Kiler said.
At the moment, Kiler thinks the odds of Piedmont’s construction come down to a coin flip – 50-50. “They’re running straight through us for data centers. We want this project stopped, and we’ll fight as well as we can, but it just seems like ultimately they’re going to do it,” he confessed to me.
Thus is the predicament of the rural Marylander. On the one hand, Kiler’s situation represents a great opportunity for a GOP president to come in and stand with his base against a would-be presidential candidate. On the other, data center development and artificial intelligence represent one of the president’s few economic bright spots, and he has dedicated copious policy attention to expanding growth in this precise avenue of the tech sector. It’s hard to imagine something less “energy dominance” than killing a transmission line.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
Plus more of the week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Wayne County, Nebraska – The Trump administration fined Orsted during the government shutdown for allegedly killing bald eagles at two of its wind projects, the first indications of financial penalties for energy companies under Trump’s wind industry crackdown.
2. Ocean County, New Jersey – Speaking of wind, I broke news earlier this week that one of the nation’s largest renewable energy projects is now deceased: the Leading Light offshore wind project.
3. Dane County, Wisconsin – The fight over a ginormous data center development out here is turning into perhaps one of the nation’s most important local conflicts over AI and land use.
4. Hardeman County, Texas – It’s not all bad news today for renewable energy – because it never really is.