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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.
U.S. National Highway Traffic Safety Administration via Wikimedia Commons.
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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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.”