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C’mon Ford. Don’t let me down.

Automakers sit at the towering heights of global capitalism. Nearly every important industry or commodity — steel, rubber, chemicals, semiconductors, minerals, and, of course, oil — feeds into car-making. Car companies receive so much government support that their brands often come to symbolize the state itself: Volkswagen, Toyota, and Ford are arguably more tied up with their countries’ national histories than, say, currywurst, sushi, or cheeseburgers.
Undertaking the construction of a wholly new car is such an expensive and arduous challenge that multiple automakers will often collaborate on it, creating a “platform” that involves a shared chassis and a set of interlocking components.
So it would be folly — if not outright delusion — to look at one of these companies and tell them that they should make a car for no reason other than that you want them to. Surely Ford Motor Company has better things to do than read a column and decide to shift its product line accordingly.
But that is what I’m going to do.
Ford should take its compact Maverick pickup truck — the smallest truck in their fleet — and release it as a plug-in hybrid. Here are the seven reasons why.
I like little trucks. I realize this is a character deficiency, and a somewhat unusual vice for my demographic: I’m a city-dwelling climate-change reporter who has no particular love for the canyon-face monsters that make up most modern pickup lines. But it’s hopefully a forgivable one.
Forty years ago, if you wanted a compact pickup, you could have bought the trusty little Ford Ranger, a 15-foot bear cub of a truck that weighed a mere ton and could haul up to 1,600 pounds. The Ranger was a revolution, signaling that American automakers weren’t content to cede the compact pickup market to Japanese brands like Mazda and Toyota.

Then compact pickups began to vanish. Toyota’s sprightly Tacoma, once a tail-wagger of a utility vehicle, slowly became super-sized. Ford stopped making the Ranger in 2012. By the middle of the 2010s, essentially no small trucks were available on the American market
Recently, compacts have started to come back. Ford brought back the Ranger, although the new model is as sleek and functional as a linebacker. Hyundai has released the Santa Cruz, the closest thing in America to the venerable Australian ute. Then in 2021, Ford started making the Maverick. At 16-feet long and 3,600 pounds, it’s bulkier and heavier — but not much bigger — than the chipper Rangers of yore. The Maverick is so popular that Ford had to stop taking orders for it last year. And while the Mav is currently offered as a hybrid … Ford could do better.
I take it as a given that Ford will eventually release an all-electric Maverick. But in the meantime, a plug-in hybrid would be potentially more useful. Here’s why.
A plug-in hybrid electric vehicle, or PHEV, is just what it sounds like: a car or truck that has a gas tank and a battery that gets a little bit of range — maybe 30 miles. That larger battery differentiates a PHEV from a conventional hybrid, like the Prius (or the current Maverick hybrid), whose battery can only propel the car shorter distances or regenerate energy during braking.
PHEVs are more expensive than hybrids, and they have a reputation for being, well, the jazz choirs of power trains: By trying to do too much at once, they don’t do anything well.
Theoretically, you can use the gas tank in a PHEV as a backup power source, making short errands using only the battery. But a recent study from Transport & Environment, a European think tank, found that some PHEVs fell short of their advertised electric range, and therefore emitted five to seven times as much CO₂ in cities as claimed. And because of the weight of their batteries, PHEVs also require more gasoline than conventional hybrids.
But for all their downsides, PHEVs remain the best way for city-dwellers like me who don’t have EV chargers at home to take part in the EV revolution. I also only drive a few times a month — probably not often enough to justify locking up precious (and still scarce) EV metals in a vehicle that will mostly sit around on the street. Most of my trips are to the grocery store, which has charging in the parking lot. For a certain kind of consumer — i.e., me, the city-dwelling compact-pickup lover — a PHEV is ideal for right now.
According to MotorTrend, someone spotted a Ford Maverick last year with all-wheel drive and a PHEV power train. So it’s out there. It might be sitting in a Batcave-style basement somewhere in Michigan, but someone has done it.
“There’s no current need for a PHEV,” Mike Levine, a Ford spokesman, told me in an email, when I told him I was writing this story.
The “Maverick hybrid is incredibly efficient (40 mpg city) and affordable. The EPA estimates that Maverick hybrid’s total annual fuel cost is just $1,500,” he said. On top of that, Ford only sells one PHEV at the moment: a Ford Escape variant that goes for about $40,000. The Maverick, by comparison, starts at about $22,500.
Let’s stipulate a few things. The first is that even if the United States aggressively ramps up the rollout of electric vehicles, gasoline — which is a fossil fuel! — will be available for a long time. The Biden administration hopes that EVs will make up 50% of new car sales in 2030 and 66% of new sales in 2032. That means that gas-burning cars will by definition make up half of the new car fleet in 2030 and one-third of the fleet in 2032. Under the EPA’s current proposal, most new heavy-duty trucks sold in those years will burn gasoline or diesel, too.
A rollout that quick may be delusional — you can make a plausible case that the EV transition will go faster or slower than the government believes. But if we assume that it’s a plausible base case, then we can also conclude that gas-burning cars will remain on the road well into the late 2040s. They might be costly to run and face extremely high fees in some places; driving one may incur some social stigma, like smoking indoors today; gasoline itself may even become a specialty rural fuel. But without a mandatory federal buy-back program of internal-combustion cars, it will probably be no rarer to see a gas car in the year 2050 than it is to see, say, a Subaru Baja today.
And that will be bad. Fossil fuels cause climate change. We should aim to eliminate them from society as soon as possible. But if you are alive in the 2040s, God willing, then you probably won’t be running to the Wal-mazon Mart in a gas car. Most vehicle miles traveled in the year 2050 probably won’t involve gasoline or diesel.
But it’s plausible that you, you Aging Millennial, may — you just may — have a gas-powered truck in your garage, one that you almost never use but that reminds you of your younger, freer days. One that mostly sits there, smiling idly, til you take it out to give the grandkids a ride around the farm or haul the occasional stump. A trusty, plastic-cladded friend. A golden retriever of a vehicle.
A plug-in hybrid Ford Maverick.
Can you help your friend move with a Prius Prime? Can you carry some flat-packed bookshelves home from an Ikea run? Can you carry an unused mattress to the dump? Don’t answer that because you actually can do all three things with a Prius. But it would be way more fun to do it with a truck.
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Jason Fenske loved his Lucid. Or at least, the idea of it.
Fenske is the proprietor of the influential Engineering Explained channel on YouTube, which digs into the mechanical minutiae of both combustion and electric vehicles. While he regularly test-drives all sorts of cars, Fenske last year bought himself a Lucid Air, the big, beautiful sedan from the California EV startup.
The choice was no surprise. Fenske called the Air “one of the most impressive feats of engineering in the automotive world.” Technologically, it is indeed a car without compromise. Despite delivering 600-plus horsepower and a 0-60 mph time of barely more than 3 seconds, it was also the most efficient car in America, a fact that helped push its driving range above 400 miles per charge. But after a year of Fenske’s Air struggling with seemingly incurable software glitches, the company bought back his car and gave him a long-term loan of the Gravity, its new electric SUV. When that, too, suffered software bugs, he finally moved on to a Ford.
The episode encapsulates what has been a trying time for the automaker. Alongside Tesla and Rivian, Lucid looked to be the third successful EV startup to spring out of California. Tesla, once it overcame the trials of “manufacturing hell” to produce the Model 3 and Model Y, seized control of the American EV market and has yet to let go. Rivian, buoyed through the bad years by investments from the likes of Volkswagen and Amazon, appears poised to reach a sustainable future now that the more affordable R2 is out and thriving. Lucid, though, is stuck in an earlier stage in startup evolution — reportedly burning through cash as it struggles with both the software side of its vehicles and with the state of the U.S. EV market. The mood grew so grim this summer that the company announced a full operational reset to try to restore investor confidence, which included CEO Peter Rawlinson, formerly the man in charge of the Tesla Model S, stepping down.
Things started off much more promising in 2021, when the Air established Lucid as the efficiency nerd’s EV. Today, the rear-wheel-drive version gets the equivalent of 146 miles per gallon — tops in the U.S., and good enough for the Air to get 420 miles of range. The most expensive Air, with a supersized battery to match, delivers an eye-popping figure of 512 miles.
The obvious next step for the American market is to build an SUV, which Lucid has done with the Gravity. We tested it this past weekend in a seven-seat configuration, ferrying five people and three dogs up to Oak Glen, California, the mountain town of apple orchards and pumpkin patches where Angelenos come to cosplay autumn. (Bibi, one of the four-legged passengers who doesn’t care for cars, loved the Lucid). Despite its length, which gives it the proportions of a svelte minivan, the Gravity’s ample power makes it drive like a lighter vehicle. And despite its size, the Lucid’s efficiency obsession gives the car 400-plus miles of range, allowing us to drive a three-hour round trip and still have half the battery capacity left over. I can’t tell you how luxurious that feels compared to everyday life in a standard-range Tesla Model 3.
Inside, the Gravity is truly deluxe and inviting. Where Tesla embraced a fully minimalist interior and Rivian projects more of an REI, gentrified outdoorsy aesthetic, Lucid tilts more toward being the electric black car. The sprawling curved screen across the dashboard and secondary large touchscreen in the central console, combined with the elegant approach to its UI, is just so much more sophisticated than what you’d see in a legacy carmaker’s EV.
The setup offers a refined way to use all the car’s basic functions like climate, music, and navigation, as well as search for charging stations and view all of the car’s energy and efficiency stats. The array of settings and options allows an EV enthusiast to tweak a thousand things about their car. Take charge planning on road trips, a sore spot I often gripe about: In the Lucid, a bevy of options lets you select and deselect whichever charging networks you want, tell the computer whether to prioritize total time versus number of charging stops, and lots more. Then there are the premium extras meant to justify the Gravity’s price, which starts at $80,000 and rises from there. Wellness and relaxation programs can take over the digital displays and lighting, transforming the cabin into a little spa on wheels for as long as you’d like. The car simply feels like Silicon Valley affluence.
Within that user experience lies the problem, though. Lucid’s EVs are unquestionably mechanically excellent. But in the age of the software-defined car, all the software has to be excellent, too. Fenske’s Air wasn’t the only Lucid beset by bugs. This is an unavoidable fact of life in the 21st century — Tesla and Rivian have certainly had their share — but Lucid appears to have struggled more to cleanse them. Even my test unit would erroneously flash a momentary warning while I was rolling down the freeway (close latch before driving!) that disappeared just as quickly. It made no real difference to the driving experience, yet it’s one of those tiny glitches that saps one’s confidence in a car whose software is also responsible for keeping you safe.
Set aside software woes, and the timeline is troublesome for Lucid, too. Tesla established a pattern for EV startups: it built the very expensive Model S and X first, making just enough revenue from those pricey halo cars to survive until it could build the more affordable Model 3 and Y and generate a reliable revenue stream. Rivian took a similar path, selling R1 pickups and SUVs that cost $70,000, and sometimes much more, before introducing the R2 this year. Lucid’s smaller and cheaper EVs would be called the Cosmos and Earth, but we’ve yet to see those vehicles, and they won’t arrive until at least next year. When they do show up, they’ll have to compete with an improving set of luxury EVsfrom the likes of BMW and Mercedes-Benz.
Once those $50,000 Lucids exist, far more drivers will be exposed to all the things that the brand does right. And maybe — as long as there’s enough investment cash to get there — that will establish Lucid as a brand that is here to stay. Until then, the sticker price of these dream machines means that Lucid is competing in a small slice of an already small market, since not even a year of expensive gas has been enough to tip Americans toward EVs for good.
This is Heatmap Daily, a weekday digest written by our executive editor. Subscribe here.
My colleague Emily Pontecorvo has a fascinating story today about Net Power, an energy and power development company whose technology once seemed key to decarbonizing the country’s electricity grid.
When Net Power went public in 2023, it was working on a natural gas-burning power plant that would generate little to no emissions in part by using carbon capture and storage. Its invention seemed to have big implications, and not just for the company’s bottom line: Back then, the Environmental Protection Agency was drafting climate rules that would have required new natural gas plants built in the 2030s to capture their carbon dioxide emissions. Net Power’s technology seemed like one of the best available ways to meet that standard.
Cut to 2026, and the world looks different. Thanks to the artificial intelligence boom, electricity demand is surging. But Net Power hasn’t successfully commercialized its proprietary power plant technology. Even if it had, few companies are willing to pay the high premium required by Net Power’s technology, especially when cheaper options are available. And the government certainly isn’t going to require it. Emily’s story reveals what happened next.
When I helped start Heatmap more than three years ago, I never thought I would write this much about data centers. I believed that electricity demand growth was inevitable, sure, and I thought the U.S. power grid had to expand for the country to decarbonize. But I didn’t foresee such a staggering near-term surge in electricity demand. (To be fair, even long-time students of the computing industry’s energy use didn’t see the coming increase, either.)
What I didn’t anticipate — or understand — were two fast-moving trends. The first was that the AI models were responding to scale: the more text or images they consumed, or training they received, or (crucially) computational power they had access to, the better they got. The second was that Wall Street was happy to pay to continue that speedy scale-up. As long as models kept getting better, investors were willing to keep lending or investing more money to the companies making them. Through the power of those two scaling functions, the data center boom became one of the biggest infrastructure buildouts in American history.
In recent days, the second of those trends has started to falter. After a surprisingly hot inflation report last week, and a disclosure on Wednesday evening that Meta has gone free cash flow negative to finance its ongoing AI buildout, stocks with any proximity to AI or data centers stumbled on Wall Street today. The data center developers Coreweave and Vistra were each down about 10%, while Microsoft, Alphabet, and Nvidia all fell in daily trading. Meta’s stock lost almost 7% of its value; GE Vernova, which produces gas turbines, was down 10%.
These declines look more significant when you zoom out. Since late June, a good chunk of the AI portfolio has sagged into the red. Coreweave’s stock is down 54% over the past six months. Alphabet and GE Vernova have also posted declines since the summer. (The trend isn’t uniform: Nvidia and Microsoft are still very much in the green.)
None of this, to be sure, guarantees that the AI boom is ending or even slowing down. But this finance-applied friction is what such a slowdown could look like. Investors aren’t (yet) saying that AI is a business dud, to be clear, just that companies perhaps don’t need to go and construct all this stuff so fast. And given what the data center buildout has meant for energy construction — not to mention greenhouse gas emissions — that’s a trend nobody in climate or energy can ignore.
The zero-emission pioneer is doing the dirty work for the AI boom.
All kinds of companies have refashioned themselves to exploit the AI boom. A bitcoin miner became a data center developer, a shoemaker is building GPUs, and an electric vehicle company is integrating its powertrains into server racks.
Now, a company that once aspired to build one of the lowest-emitting power plants has pivoted to building one of the dirtiest in order to meet data centers’ requirement for speed to power above all. Net Power was founded to pioneer a new form of natural gas power plant with zero emissions, but it has given up on that technology and recently acquired 10 natural gas reciprocating engines that it plans to co-locate with a data center on the site intended for its first commercial plant.
“We believe the clean piece is important,” Net Power CEO Danny Rice said during an August earnings call when he announced the company’s pivot to building unabated natural gas plants. “But just as it’s always been, it will only come at scale once society’s basic energy pillars of reliable, affordable power are fully in place. Power demand is outstripping supply today.”
Net Power’s pivot is a sign not only that the AI boom has eroded market appetite for clean power, but that U.S. policies supporting carbon capture — primarily the 45Q tax credit that President Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act recently expanded — are still not enough to support the technology’s deployment in the power sector.
“The long history of doing CCS in the United States is there isn’t enough public funding to get companies to deploy it at scale,” Jack Andreasen Cavanaugh, a senior research associate at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy, told me.
This is actually the second major pivot the company has made in less than a year. Last November, Net Power was still testing its proprietary oxy-combustion technology at its demonstration site in La Porte, Texas. The tech was designed to burn natural gas in a chamber with pure oxygen, producing a purer stream of CO2 than when natural gas is burned in regular air. Net Power’s system could recycle some of that CO2 for power generation and capture the rest more efficiently than a conventional gas plant could. The company had not yet demonstrated that the system could generate more energy than it used, however.
By that point, Net Power had determined that its oxy-combustion plants, if they ever even did generate net power, would not be economically competitive anytime soon. In its 2025 Q3 financial report, the company said it had “decided to broaden the scope of its business” and develop more conventional natural gas plants with carbon capture equipment tacked on. It signed a letter of intent with Entropy, a Canadian company building “post-combustion” carbon capture equipment, to bring the tech to the United States, and ordered two 30-megawatt Siemens natural gas turbines for 2028 delivery.
“For us and everyone else in the power and data center space these days, speed is everything,” Rice said at the time. “We believe gas turbines with [post-combustion capture] can and should be the fastest-to-market and most cost-competitive clean, firm solution for our prospective customers.”
He told investors that rising costs were one of the setbacks Net Power faced in building its first-of-a-kind oxy-combustion plant. It was highly unlikely the company could finance and build a $1.7 billion, 200-megawatt plant before completing all its testing, he said. The best-case scenario for the plant to come online was 2030 or 2031, and costs might keep rising with inflation. The company could either bet on that prospect and keep bleeding cash, or “slow down that spending in order to free up some of our resources for near-term accretive opportunities.” As a public company with shareholders to answer to, there was really only one choice.
By the end of 2025, Net Power decided to suspend its oxy-combustion development and testing activities altogether, according to its year-end SEC filing.
Six months later, the company’s thesis changed again. Gas turbines with post-combustion capture, it turned out, were not the “fastest-to-market and most cost-competitive” solutions that the company had hoped they’d be. Whereas once upon a time, electricity buyers considered a range of factors when shopping around for power, including carbon emissions, the reality was that they were now only looking for three qualities: speed, reliability, and scale. “Natural gas power generation, co-located with customer load, and deployable on a fast timeline, is how we expect to meet that demand today,” Rice told investors, adding that the company hoped to add carbon capture to its projects in the future.
To date, only one proposed U.S. natural gas plant with carbon capture has announced a deal to sell its prospective power. In October 2025, Google signed a power purchase agreement with the Broadwing Energy Center, an Illinois plant under development by a company called Low Carbon Infrastructure.
“There is a massive demand for unabated gas right now, and there is much less of a demand for carbon capture,” Cavanaugh said. He told me there are still lots of conversations happening between hyperscalers and carbon capture companies, but the physical realities and costs of capturing, transporting, and storing carbon from natural gas plants remain obstacles.
The Global CCS Institute published its annual Global Status of CCS report this week, which found more than 266 carbon capture, transport, or storage projects are under development in the U.S., but permitting delays and policy uncertainty are stalling their progress. “Inflation and rising capital costs have weakened project economics, reducing the effectiveness of existing policies, such as tax and investment credits,” the report said.
That doesn’t mean there aren’t still companies trying. Net Power may have given up on oxy-combustion power plants for now, but Arbor Energy, a startup founded by former SpaceX engineers, is just ramping up. Arbor announced a milestone in the development of its own oxy-combustion power generator last week, running a key piece of its system — a supercritical CO2 turbocompressor — for more than two hours at high speeds.
Arbor differentiates itself by using 3D-printed turbines and developing smaller, more modular plants. It’s scaling more incrementally than Net Power tried to, starting with a 1-megawatt demonstration plant in California that is “weeks away” from operating, the company’s Chief Operating Officer Alicia Harmon told me — although the project won’t include carbon storage. It plans to build a 25-megawatt demonstration plant by 2028, also sans storage, before manufacturing commercial-scale systems.
Arbor actually went through a pivot of its own due to the data center boom. The founders originally planned to focus on bioenergy with carbon removal, using the oxy-combustion technology to generate power from biomass and storing the resulting CO2 underground. Over time, though, it became clear that demand for power outpaced demand for carbon removal, and natural gas was more abundant than biomass.
I asked Harmon whether the company thought there was market demand for carbon-capture gas plants. Is anyone willing to pay that green premium right now? “Honestly, my answer is no,” she said, but the company sees a path to erasing the green premium by the early 2030s. She added that Arbor’s technology is already “very close” to parity with combined-cycle natural gas plants when the 45Q tax credit is taken into account.
Last month, Net Power announced it had acquired 123 megawatts’ worth of Wärtsilä reciprocating engines, in addition to the Siemens turbines it had already ordered. Reciprocating engines are among the dirtiest natural gas power-generation technologies. A recent report from Earthjustice estimated that a 1-gigawatt plant powered by reciprocating engines would emit 1.5 times as much CO2 per year as one powered by the “combined cycle” technology most modern plants use, and twice as much nitrogen oxides and fine particulate matter. It has not yet disclosed any data center partners to sell the power to.
Net Power declined to comment on this story.