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The Changli is weird, about $1,000, and a surprisingly compelling vision of the future.

If you’re trying to solve a problem, it’s unlikely that anyone is going to look over your efforts, scribble things on a pad, scowl, and then say, “Have you tried half-assing it? Really phone it in?” This almost never happens. And yet it's precisely what I think needs to happen for electric cars to live up to their potential. They need to suck far, far more than they currently do. I know this sounds like what many experts would call “a terrible idea” and “stupid,” but I’m confident in this belief for one very notable reason: I’ve lived it.
For the past few years, I’ve used and enjoyed an electric car that is, by the standards of any EV available on the mass market today, terrible. I’m talking about something with about 1/10th the range, about 1/250th the horsepower (and that’s being generous), and maybe 1/5th the maximum speed of a modern EV. These are the sort of specs that should be charitably considered garbage.
And yet, despite it all, what I’ve learned is that not only are such meager capabilities enough for a shocking amount of my transportation needs, the whole experience has been downright fun. Yes, fun.
The car I’m talking about is called the Changli Freeman, and I believe it is the cheapest car in the world. In fact, that was the initial reason I bought it. You see, my job is to write about and do things with interesting cars, so when the pandemic arrived in 2020, that put a real crimp in my usual plans of traveling to people with strange cars all over the country and driving them, on video, to the delight of audiences in the high severals.
So, stuck at home, I hatched a new plan: I’d bring the interesting cars to me! Well, one interesting car, and that interesting car would be the cheapest new car one could buy.
My research brought me to a category of automobile that is known in their native land, China, as 老头乐, something that translates to “old man happy car.” That’s because this type of car is primarily sold to elderly folks in second-tier cities who need something to get to the market or pick up grandkids from school. Slow is just fine, and the legality of these cars, even in their native China, is muddy, at best. But they are definitely cars, of a sort.
At $930, the Changli was the cheapest of the cheap. Add in the necessary five 12V lead-acid batteries, which aren’t included in the base price, and the bill lurches up to $1,200, still absolutely, impossibly, floor-settingly dirt cheap for a new car of any kind.
Oh, and perhaps equally incredibly, I found this car on the website Alibaba.com, and bought it online, just like you would buy a video game console that looks like a Playstation 5 but perversely only plays 40-year-old Nintendo games.
Sure, shipping from China and all of the related customs hassles brought the total cost to about $3,300, but even so, we’re still talking about something wildly inexpensive. We’re still comfortably lying down on that bottom tier, and if you need further proof of this, here’s a video of me when I first got it and had to take it out of the massive cardboard box it shipped in:
Unboxing The World's Cheapest New Car Reveals It's So Much Better Than You Thinkwww.youtube.com
Now, aside from the fact that my new car arrived in a cardboard box, what you should note is my raw, unmitigated delight.
I had been genuinely ready to accept what would effectively be a plastic porta-potty-type body on a crude, flimsy chassis with a chain-driven axle and an effective operational lifespan roughly on par with your average mosquito. But that’s not what I got. What I got was a very cleverly-designed little car with an all-steel body, all the required legal lights and indicators, a windshield wiper, heater, radio with an MP3 player, and even a freaking backup camera. It was so much better than I ever could have imagined.
I later brought the Changli to Munro and Associates, one of the leading vehicular evaluation companies in the world, a place where major automotive manufacturers bring competitors' products to determine how they’re built and how much it costs to make them.
Sandy Munro, who runs the company, was genuinely stunned by what the Changli had to offer, and how it was made:
Sandy Munro Attempts To Demystify The Absurdly Low Cost Of The Changliwww.youtube.com
Remember, these are the reactions of someone who has torn down every major electric car on the market, from Teslas to Fords to BMWs. He knows what he’s talking about.
The specs on the car aren’t exactly impressive: 1.1 horsepower electric motor, 60V of batteries which gave a (tested) range of 27 miles, and a top speed of about 25 mph or so, though something around 20 was more common. My kid is able to run up a hill faster than the Changli can get up it. And yet, somehow, it works.
Here's What The World's Cheapest Electric Car Is Like To Drivewww.youtube.com
It actually does more than just work; it’s a usable transportation solution for far more of my normal transportation needs than I’d have ever guessed. While it may have come into my life as a curio, it very rapidly became an actually useful conveyance.
I used it to go to the grocery store. I sometimes took my kid to school in it, or to a friend’s house. I picked up take-out. I got parts from the auto parts store when one or more of my “real” cars needed repair. I met friends out at restaurants or galleries or clubs in town, and when I did, I could always park where no one else could, nose-to-curb or in tiny nooks behind dumpsters or any number of other small, forgotten spaces.
I did all of the sorts of mundane, low-distance, low-speed personal transportation acts that we all do, and which command a far larger percentage of our day-to-day transportation needs than many of us realize.
Now, I live in an environment where this sort of thing is perhaps unusually possible. It’s a college town, so there’s a lot of fairly dense commerce surrounded by a lot of low-speed streets, which makes it ideal for using a low-speed neighborhood electric vehicle (as it’s technically classed). According to the rules of this vehicle classification, which varies a lot from state-to-state, I can drive my absurd little machine on any street with a speed limit of 35 mph or less, though I think I can cross streets with higher limits.
There’s no highway travel, of course, but that’s not a restriction I’d need to be told to obey, as trying to drive this thing on a highway would be like shoving a sloth into the path of a cattle stampede. Were I to be in an accident with something like an F-150, I’d probably end up accordian’d like a cartoon coyote.
What I learned was that about 75% of my daily transportation needs could be accomplished with this shockingly minimal machine, and, even better, done with more fun than getting in a full-sized car. It was even easier than driving my regular cars! It was quiet and leisurely and everyone who saw this refugee from Cartoonistan greeted it with amused bewilderment or a smile or both.
Compared to a real EV like, say, a Tesla Model 3, this thing is a joke. But it’s a joke that can get to and from the grocery store in about the same amount of time when driving through town, and accomplish pretty much the same job, for a tiny fraction of the price and without hauling around an extra 3,000 pounds of car and battery that were, for the purposes of a trip like a grocery run, just dead weight.
There’s something in the automotive industry known as “vehicle demand energy,” which basically refers to the amount of energy needed to simply put the whole car in motion. The vehicle demand energy of a Tesla or a Ford Mach-E or even a Nissan Leaf is orders of magnitude higher than what the Changli demands, and for an awful lot of driving, that’s wasted energy.
If we’re really serious about using EVs to make a real dent in climate issues and energy usage, then we should adjust our thinking to make room for Changli-type vehicles.
Side by side with a “real car,” the Changli looks like a comical, shrunken subset, but compared to other minimalistic electric, low-speed transportation solutions like an e-bike, it feels like being carried in a luxurious, silken-draped litter. Unlike an e-bike, you’re still enjoying complete protection from the weather, and since you’re not teetering on a pair of wheels, but are rather cozily lounging inside a metal box, you can carry so much more stuff.
That’s why a minimal car-esque EV like the Changli is viable for transporting, say, tubs of Chinese food home or taking your kid to school: It’s a car, not a bike. It’s an obvious thing to note, but it’s a big deal when it comes to actually using the thing.
Sure, you can’t take a roadtrip in a Changli, but you knew that from the moment you looked at it. It is just a case of the right tool for the right job. Live somewhere dense, with a lot of low-speed travel? Maybe a Changli makes sense! Live on a compound and it’s a 45-minute trip if you need dental floss? Maybe not. There will always be a place for long-range, comfortable and safe EVs, capable of high speeds and long road trips, but they don’t need to be your daily driver.
Perhaps many of us will have small, fun, a-bit-better-than-Changli-type vehicles that we drive day-to-day, and then take majestic powerful, long-range EVs on the occasional road trip.
This doesn’t have to be a punishment. I’m a gearhead, I love cars and driving, and I can honestly say my driving experiences in the Changli have been a blast. I even took it to a track event. I’m pretty sure I hit 26 mph, and, like any car at its limit, it was pretty fun, making those bagel-sized tires squeal and feeling that tall, silly body lean and tilt like a drunk on an escalator.
Already in Europe we’re starting to see some realization that this sort of category is viable; French carmaker Citroën has a cheap, $10,000-ish car called the Ami that is classified under European quadracycle laws, which is essentially a category for low-speed city cars, which make a lot of sense the dense urban landscapes found all over Europe.
The Ami’s speed is limited to 28 mph (I suspect it’s technically capable of more), and it can go about 47 miles on a full charge, both of which are enough for the job it’s designed to do. The more I think about cars like the Changli and the Ami, the more I think they should be far, far more common than they are.
If we want to really change the transportation landscape in a way that’s good for the climate, is less demanding on the difficult rare-earth resources required to make EV batteries (for the resources that go into the battery of one full-range and power EV, you can likely make at least three short-range-use EVs), and yet still preserves so much of the personal transportation freedom that we’ve all grown to expect, then its time to really think about scaling down the sorts of vehicles that we use for all the little drives we do.
And, remember, it’s not a punishment. It’ll be fun. I know, because, again, I’m doing it, in the most minimal, ridiculous way possible.
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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.
The local government of Boulder City, Nevada had previously rejected a proposal for the computing facility, which would draw power from the existing electricity supply.
The U.S. government for the first time approved a data center on federal lands. What the Trump administration is pitching as a demonstration of bureaucratic speed and ambition in the era of artificial intelligence, however, is turning into the same sort of mysterious backroom deal that’s upsetting other communities.
On Monday, the Bureau of Land Management announced that it would allow a large AI data center to be built on a plot of federal land technically within the limits of Boulder City, Nevada. The approval was initially granted as a right-of-way in 2023 for the second phase of a solar project known as Townsite Solar, to be built by a joint venture between Skylar Opportunities LLC, a subsidiary of Houston energy trader Bill Perkins’ investment firm, and renewables developer Arevon. (Ironically, Perkins also just launched an ETF to profit from higher electricity demand.)
Earlier this year, the LLC overseeing the project — itself named Townsite Solar 2 — notified the city that it would change tack and instead construct a large data center on the site. There would be no new power generation installed — rather, the facility would hook up directly to an existing substation. This time, the backlash was immediate and fierce, and led Boulder City’s planning commission to reject the data center within city limits.
Quietly, Townsite Solar 2 had prepared a backup plan: The project would shift to federal land that was already approved to use for the second phase of the solar farm. It wasn’t until early July that the Boulder City government and its residents learned that BLM had given Townsite Solar 2 permission to advance the data center without any new public hearings or comment periods. According to BLM, the data center would be essentially like a solar farm, so it wouldn’t require any new review.
“The BLM concluded that the new proposed action — a data center — is essentially the same,” city government attorney Brittany Walker told the Boulder City council at a July 14 public hearing. “This is a departure from previous precedent and procedure as the BLM essentially sweepingly approved a new land use without following processes in federal law.”
Boulder City is now fighting the federal assessment. Walker claimed at the July 14 hearing they weren’t notified ahead of time that Townsite Solar 2 would be so quickly approved and built on this parcel of federal acreage, a form of government-to-government communication often required under federal land use planning statutes.
Mystery continues to swirl around what BLM did here — and how Townsite Solar 2 got the agency to do it.
Nada Culver, who served as No. 2 at BLM under the Biden administration, told me that BLM had veered from the usual course of business in approving this data center. Consulting local governments before a decision is made “sits at the heart” of the Federal Land Management and Policy Act, which is the primary statute governing BLM’s land use decision-making, she said. Both that law and the National Environmental Policy Act are “supposed to involve the government actually looking at environmental impacts and sharing them. so it’s not responsible or arguably even legal for the BLM to say, ‘We aren’t going to look at those impacts or share them with the public,” she added.
Boulder City officials have said this is the first major data center approval on federal lands, to their knowledge. Culver told me she believed that to be true, and hadn’t heard of such a thing happening before. “This isn’t a niche BLM issue, so to try and say this is just another use when we’re all surrounded with this loud discussion at the national level about data centers is particularly stark.”
Patrick Donnelly of the Center for Biological Diversity told me his organization and the Sierra Club, another legacy conservation group, are planning a separate legal challenge, one they say is intended to stop more such swaps from happening. Donnelly noted that at least two more data center projects — both powered by on-site gas — are poised to start the federal permitting process at any moment, according to the BLM’s online materials.
“This is the first one, and it’s going to set the stage for these things on public lands, and we can’t let this happen,” he told me.
The timing of this fight couldn’t be worse for the Trump White House, as officials try to pivot towards a “feel your pain” message ahead of the 2026 midterm elections. On Thursday, utilities and data center developers joined Trump cabinet officials at the Environmental Protection Agency for a joint event promoting the administration’s Ratepayer Protection Pledge, a voluntary set of industry practices geared toward ensuring the cost of AI infrastructure isn’t borne by those living near it.
With the BLM’s decision to advance the data center on federal land, Boulder City will lose an estimated $2.3 million in annual leasing and taxation revenue that it would’ve received if the project were built on city land, according to the Las Vegas Review-Journal. If the project is built on BLM land, Boulder City officials have said they’ll still be forced to front the cost for water and sewage hookup to the facility, as well as road maintenance.
Townsite Solar 2 told me in an unattributed statement that it wants Boulder City “to receive the greatest possible revenue and contribution benefits from the project, regardless of siting on federally-owned or city-owned land.”
“TS2 wants the project to provide meaningful, measurable benefits for Boulder City residents, local businesses, and the broader community. Our goal is to develop a responsible, sustainable project that Boulder City can be proud of and that can serve as a national model.”
The people I talked to for this story were largely flummoxed at BLM’s determination that the data center would be “essentially like” the solar farm that was approved in 2023. “These are two unrelated projects,” Culver told me. “I find it very hard to see how this would not trigger the need for a new analysis or public engagement.”
BLM’s logic made my head hurt, too. Among other things, the agency said “both proposals will use the exact same location, same acreage, and same perimeter,” and “both are proposals for industrial uses that will operationalize cutting-edge technologies that are predominantly electrical and solid state in nature.” The agency also claimed the data center was just like the solar farm because construction would take approximately the same amount of time, and would involve facilities and changes that “are visually geometric and less than 30 feet in height.”
You could describe a data center this way, but you could also describe any other number of things this way: a grocery store, a factory, a rollercoaster.
When I asked BLM for comment, a spokesperson simply sent me back the text used in the press release announcing Townsite Solar 2’s data center approval. A press representative for Townsite Solar 2 declined to provide details about who handled government affairs for the data center project, except to say that it hadn’t hired any federal lobbyists.
Some of Trump’s loudest critics told me they think this deal happened because Arevon, a joint partner described as a key financier in the project’s application with Boulder City, hired lobbyists with The Bernhardt Group, a government relations firm created last year by former Trump Interior Secretary David Bernhardt. Arevon hired the firm around the same time Townsite Solar 2 initiated the process to use the federal land for the data center, according to federal disclosures.
I have a history with Bernhardt. After leaving the Trump administration in 2021, Bernhardt went on to run the Trumpworld think tank America First Policy Institute and released a tell-all book, You Report to Me, that called for the bureaucracy to stand down against — as he put it to me — “the interests of the executive.” (I interviewed him around the time of its publication, after which he gave me an unsolicited copy of the book that I keep at my bedside as a form of dark humor.)
These days Bernhardt’s firm represents oil interests, including energy companies, mining, and large-scale agricultural interests that use lots of water (think: almonds). But it’s also pitching itself to the AI energy commentariat. In May, the former Interior secretary authored an op-ed in The Washington Examiner calling for rapid investment in U.S. artificial intelligence infrastructure. He then took to right-wing TV network Newsmax to promote the column, arguing that people fighting to stop data centers were just trying to “oppose the president’s vision for energy dominance.”
It would be easy to point at these federal disclosures and online comments and claim this bizarre data center land use swap is the work of a familiar Trump-era boogeyan. Except Arevon was effusive to me in saying that is not what happened here. In a statement, the company said that it’s a passive member of the joint venture, holds less than 25% ownership stake, and has “not directly hired consultants or lobbyists for this project.”
I didn’t get a response from Overwatch, a data center engineering and design firm contracted to help with the project. Overwatch does have a director of government affairs, but their hire was announced months after the application would have been submitted to BLM.
This leaves us sleuths to conclude the likeliest reason this happened is also the most obvious one: Trump just wants data centers on federal lands, and this was a way to make that happen. What happens next will have enormous implications for the future of data center development and federal land use in the United States, especially if more companies facing federal permit stonewalling seek to turn their solar farm permits into permission to build AI infrastructure.