I read the following in Road and Track magazine recently, and, well....try as I might to have some excitment over the priorities of throngs of tree-huggers everywhere, judging by this, there's still a bit too much government-induced prestidigitation over "gas mileage," (seeing how there really is no such thing as gas mileage, if you're not using gas,) when it comes to what we now label "plug-in" electrics. True, the vehicle itself is producing reduced emissions, but you're still plugging into a household outlet, so, PRESTO! Your household electric bill is going to skyrocket, and the municipal powerplants will be working overtime, compensating for all the smog you just "saved the world" from. The following is pretty much why I maintain that plug-in electrics have no place as conveyances, save for inside the bounds of golf courses.
Super Mpg=Super Hype?
Will your Chevy Volt get 230 mpg? It depends.By Dennis Simanaitis
November 2009
There's a lot of enthusiasm — much of it justified, some misapplied — about electric propulsion for the automobile. At the heart of this is a desire to reduce our petroleum appetite. And, thus far, our principal measuring stick for evaluating this is "mpg," miles traveled per gallon of fuel consumed.
But is mpg the appropriate metric? Is 230 mpg for Chevrolet's Volt plug-in hybrid really an indication of typical PHEV gasoline consumption?
And what's the meaning of an equivalent 367 mpg for the Nissan Leaf electric vehicle? As a pure EV, it doesn't use any of the stuff at all.
Are these mpg values just oddities of inherently complex — and possibly flawed — measurement techniques?
A flawed measuring stick?
Consider the following calculation: The Chevy Volt's battery and gasoline tank are both topped up. I drive 40 miles in its pure EV mode, after which the car's gasoline engine fires up. It runs a generator that in turn powers the Volt's electric propulsion. Chevy says this series-hybrid operation, together with its minimal battery assist and regenerative braking, gets me another 300 miles. Let's assume for arithmetic convenience this is a 10-gal. tank at 30 mpg (not bad for a 1.4-liter engine indirectly powering a 3500-lb. car). In total, then, I've gone 340 miles, used 10 gal. of gasoline, and hence achieved 34.0 mpg (plus, of course, the necessary electric replenishment).
Certainly not embarrassing, but where's my 230 mpg?
Yet here's an equally plausible calculation: I drive this same Volt 41 miles each day, just one mile beyond its EV range, and recharge each evening. Its series- hybrid range of 300 miles, the same as before, gets me 300 days before its tank is exhausted. This is a total of 12,300 miles (300 x 41) on its hypothetical 10 gal., which works out to 1230 mpg.
There's no legerdemain in either of these PHEV calculations. It's the mpg measuring stick that's at fault.
I've chatted with specialists at AC Propulsion and GM, studied writeups at SAE's Automotive Engineering Online and double-performed calculations of my own. Here's what I learned.
Mpg estimates — of one sort and another
Corporate Average Fuel Economy numbers and window sticker mpgs (two different things, note, with different fudge factors) are both based on test procedures devised by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. For conventional vehicles, including non-plug-in hybrids, these evaluations are well defined and based on dynamometer emissions tests. (See "Assessing the Obamacar," June 2009, and "Monitoring the (Technical) Pulse of the Industry," August 2009; both available at roadandtrack.com.)
For pure EVs, the procedure is well defined, though as you'll see directly it's anything but straightforward.
Encouraging EVs (and arithmetic dexterity)
EPA's procedure for evaluating an EV is based on a gallon of gasoline containing 33,705 Watt-hours of energy, the equivalent of about 115,000 Btu. Then it applies several "well-to-tank" adjustments: a multiplier of 0.328 reflecting fossil-fuel electrical efficiency and another of 0.924 accounting for electrical transmission efficiency. That is, 33,705 x 0.328 x 0.924 = 10,215.
Then, acknowledging that petroleum refining and distribution have their losses as well, the value is divided by 0.830: 10,215/0.830 = 12,307.3.
That is, 12,307.3 Wh of EV energy is considered equivalent to one gallon of gasoline's energy in a conventional vehicle.
But wait, there's more.
The Department of Energy also applies what's essentially a "petroleum-free" incentive. If the car is an utterly pure EV (not a PHEV, not even an EV with a gasoline-fired heater), then it's rewarded with an added 6.6667 multiplier. (As Wagnerian authority Anna Russell used to say, "I am not making this up...")
This raises the equivalency value to 82,049 Wh/gal.
That is, 12,307.3 x 6.6667 = 82,049.
If the EV has petroleum combustion of any sort, this factor drops to 73,844 Wh/gal. (And, in truth, by this point I lost interest on where this new one comes from.)
The bottom line in a pure EV mpg evaluation: The car is dynamometer-tested on city and highway cycles, yielding electric consumption numbers in Wh/mile. Then these go through the usual 55/45 weighting for a resulting city/highway average. Last, this average is converted to mpg using the 82,049 Wh/gal. equivalency.
(I acknowledge the exemplary arithmetic of SAE author Paul Weissler in all this. Thanks, Paul.)
It's hardly straightforward. But it's an attempt to equate well-to-tank properties of both fuels, along with rather a healthy encouragement for EVs.
Another metric: cost/mile
Although Nissan hasn't disclosed the actual test average for its Leaf EV, we can work backward from the reported 367 mpg to derive it: 82,049/367 = 223.57.
That is, the Leaf must have consumed around 224 Wh of energy per mile in its city and highway evaluations.
This gives us opportunity to assess efficiency in another way, namely, cost/mile. Alas, don't expect this to be a sound bite either. The brief answer is, "It depends."
In particular, most electric utilities have a tiered rate structure. As an example with which I'm familiar, Tier 1 or "Baseline" cost is 12¢ per kWh; Tier 2 is 14¢/kWh, up to Tier 5 at 31¢/kWh. That is, the more electricity I use, the more costly per kWh at each successive tier.
(Full disclosure: I live in Southern California, where electric utility rates are said to be quite high. However, according to the Department of Energy, the national residential average is 11.86¢/kWh.)
Now let's suppose I drive my Leaf 800 miles each month, its 27 miles per day/9600 miles annually reflecting the car's urban EV intent. That 224 Wh/mile works out to a little less than 180 kWh/month (224 x 800 = 179,200).
Its cost, though, depends on my pre-Leaf home usage within the electric utility's tiered rate structure. I assume, as is the case, that I have yet to install a TOU ("Time of use") meter and no special EV deal. That is, the Leaf's usage just gets added to my monthly bill.
Suppose my current home usage is 400 kWh/month, frugally within my Tier 1 allowance of 462 kWh/month. Then the Leaf brings this to 642 kWh, 62 kWh of which is at the Baseline 12¢/kWh rate ($7.44), the remaining 118 kWh at 14¢/kWh ($16.52). I'd be spending $23.96 for my Leaf's 800 miles, or 3¢/mile. Frugal indeed, as even a 48-mpg Toyota Prius runs around 6¢/mile for its gasoline.
But there is a grabber, and not through an absurd assumption.
Suppose, unlike mine, your home has an electric dryer, plasma TV, home theater, air conditioning, the works. That is, suppose you're already into Tier 5 usage. Then all of the added 180 kWh comes at 31¢/kWh, with an additional monthly cost of $55.80. This Leaf's 800 miles works out to 7¢/mile, more than the Prius's.
And what of PHEVs?
Because of their various modes of charge depleting and charge sustaining operation, PHEVs are inherently even more complex. Researchers at Argonne National Labs have been studying the matter for some time now. EPA has not officially released its CAFE or window sticker procedures for PHEVs.
What about the Chevrolet Volt's 230 mpg? As you read earlier here, different assumptions of Volt usage could yield anything from 34 to 1230 mpg. Chevrolet says 230 is a conservative value based on surveys of actual usage patterns — with other types of vehicles, of course. Obviously we won't be able to confirm this until late 2010.
See Tech News at roadandtrack.com for my own estimated cost/mile analysis of a Volt PHEV. As with the EV Nissan Leaf, the answer is, "It depends." Depending on your electrical costs, it's a real bargain or just a tad more than operating a Prius.
It's clear that EVs and PHEVs can offer significant benefit for many of us. But it's also clear that consumer education is essential to understand the full story. And, to me, there's excellent argument that a new metric of efficiency is needed. Today's EV and PHEV mpg ratings are at best premature and at worst misleading. It's crucial at this point not to overhype and then underdeliver.
.......And then there was the following, which made me realize just exactly what I had proabably done to my body in half a lifetime of working on cars, working in car dealers, and inducing other such hazards into my reality. It did kinda make me glad I hadn't worked on cars for longer than I did, if it had been more like 30 years I had been working on cars, I'd probably be a cancer patient by now, if not approaching it slowly but surely. It also makes me wonder about the future and life span of all the career wrenches I have ever known. I'm surprised I haven't attended more funerals for my car guy buddies.

Side Glances: My Toxic Biosphere
Tales of misshapen cats, poor ventilation and new uses for the Shop-Vac.By Peter Egan, Editor-at-Large
December 2009
Peter Egan
Well, by the time I came in from the shop last night, I looked like a chimney sweep from the cast of Oliver. Which I've not seen, but I imagine there's a chimney sweep in there somewhere. These carboned-up waifs were the perfect symbol of Dickens' London.
Alas, the dirt on my face and clothes hadn't come from anything as useful as chimney maintenance, but from the inelegant task of emptying and cleaning my Shop-Vac to make it safe for chipmunks.
Yes.
You see, our cats have recently become skilled at catching chipmunks, bringing them in through the cat door and releasing them — apparently unharmed — in our house. In the past week, Barb and I have captured six of the critters and released them into the wild (i.e., our backyard). We've been using a yardstick to herd them into a large plastic wastebasket, then clapping our Rand McNally Road Atlas over it. Pure chaos.
Earlier today, I was complaining about this haphazard technique over the phone to my buddy John Jaeger, who lives in Southern California, and he said, "I have just two words for you: Shop-Vac."
John explained that you clean out your shop vacuum cleaner, removing all the hazardous garage materials — metal filings, paint dust, etc. — and then just vacuum up your wildlife. Shut the vacuum cleaner off as soon as they're in the tube. He said even if they get sucked all the way into the barrel, it doesn't seem to hurt them. Just open it and let them out.
"Works for chipmunks, mice, bats and scorpions," he said. "Might even work on rattlesnakes..." he added pensively.
I should explain that John used to live in a place called Silverado Canyon, right on the edge of a large wildlife preserve — where two people were killed by mountain lions a few years back — and he had more than his share of visits from wildlife, venomous and otherwise.
I didn't ask how one might go about releasing a rattlesnake from a Shop-Vac, but it sounds like one of those nightmares I'd have after mixing cheap Scotch with too much foie gras from the Bargain Barrel.
But back to soot and chipmunks.
On John's advice, I went out to the garage last night, opened the doors, dumped out my Shop-Vac, cleaned the large paper filter with a brush, blew out the barrel and filter with compressed air, cleaned everything with Windex and Pledge and put the whole works back together. Immaculately clean and safe, ready for the next chipmunk. All this was done, of course, in a huge cloud of dust, containing God-knows-what. Floor dirt, driedpaint dust, iron and aluminum filings, dead spiders and flies, rust chips, mouse turds, brake dust, clumps of dirt with congealed grease and brake fluid, etc. Awful stuff.
When I came into the house, I glanced in our bathroom mirror and saw that I had a coating of gray silt in my hair, and my moustache looked like the air cleaner on our lawnmower.
"What a wondrous thing is man," I mumbled to myself, "that he can breathe such things and continue to stand upright." Before showering, I checked to make sure both eyes hadn't gravitated to the same side of my face.
Okay, this is an old private joke, and needs some explaining.
About 20 years ago, I accompanied my friend Chris Beebe to a small body shop — long since closed — where he was having his MGB painted. When we stepped inside, I was rather alarmed by what I saw.
The two guys who owned the shop were using spray guns to prime the body of an old Ford pickup, and neither was wearing a dust mask. The shop was thick with gray mist, and the heady smell of evaporative agents hit my lungs like one of those doses of smelling salts you see doctors using in the old movies. There was a small ventilation fan twirling slowly in one window, but it didn't seem to be having much effect.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light and the gray paint cloud, I realized there were several friendly shop cats rubbing against my legs, so I crouched down to pet them. It was then I realized they were all a little misshapen and off kilter in some way — oddly tilted heads, short legs, elongated necks, stunted tails, etc.
When we came out of the shop, Chris said to me, "Did you see those cats? I swear one of them had both eyes on the same side of his head, like a Picasso drawing of a cat. It must be genetic damage from the paint fumes."
It may also have been a simple case of inbreeding — possibly cats marrying their own cousins and sisters for too many generations until they all looked like hillbillies or Habsburgs — but I suspected a few generations of genetic damage from all those fumes.
Anyway, this little moment left a big impression on me. There was a parable here somewhere, with personal application...
I enjoy automotive shop work — been doing it, in some form or other, since I was about 12 — but I've always been aware that car and motorcycle repair and restoration are, chemically speaking, not quite as healthy as, say, building a birch bark canoe or raising sunflowers.
In just the past week, for instance, I've been cleaning, bead-blasting, priming and painting some rusty internal pieces from the scissor-like window mechanism in my Lotus Elan. During this minor job, my skin and lungs have been subjected, sequentially, to mineral spirits (paint thinner), the fine dust of glass beads, gray primer and Gloss Black paint from a spray can.
I wear rubber gloves while cleaning the parts — but sometimes take them off to handle the wet parts without dropping them. I wear a high-quality dust mask while painting — and then take it off later to drink a beer while admiring my handiwork. You try to protect yourself while doing shop work, but as British Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin once said, "The bomber will always get through." And so, it seems, will the mists and chemicals of car restoration.
Still, things have gotten much, much better than they once were.
When I started as an apprentice car mechanic in the early '70s, we had parts cleaner whose fumes made your eyes water, and it could raise a red rash on your hands. In our careless hurry, we often skipped using gloves while rinsing off small parts.
Now automotive parts cleaners are much less volatile, and most mechanics wouldn't think of running the stuff over their bare hands.
We also used to blow the dust out of old brake drums with compressed air, filling the whole shop with a gray cloud of asbestos particles. Asbestos, of course, has long since been proven to cause a deadly cancer of the lung lining called mesothelioma. No one uses it in brake pads or shoes any more, and no mechanic would now blow any kind of dust all over a workshop.
But we did.
I guess in the '70s we were still part of an earlier and less health-conscious strain of American culture, where a large segment of the population had been subjected to military adventures, so chemical solvents seemed like a small threat. We were also the generation that, as children, took naps on the rear window ledge of the Buick on the way to grandma's house. Why wear rubber gloves for protection from parts cleaner, when you don't even have seatbelts in your car? Or a rollcage in your Offy-powered midget?
"Yes — you're right — I suppose I should be wearing a mask while I paint. Got a cigarette?"
I kind of miss that era, but most of us probably wouldn't joke, "If I'd known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself," has grown more true than funny.
As a lifelong garage dweller, I've always secretly envied my friends who chose the hobby (or career) of fine woodworking over car mechanics. When I visit their shops, they seem to live in a wholesome world filled with the good smells of cedar or walnut, and glues made from wonderful honey-colored, naturally occurring substances that are not byproducts of nerve gas research.
But I am now informed by my friend Pat Donnelly — who is a sports car racer as well as an expert woodworker — that this is not quite the case. "Sawdust can cause emphysema," he told me, "and a lot of wood finishes are pretty nasty to breathe. I guess if you like something well enough, you just have to put up with the hazards."
Quite so.
I'd half hoped that by this age I would have had some kind of epiphany and turned to a healthier hobby, such as raising bees or thatching roofs, but it doesn't seem to be happening. I'm apparently addicted to parts cleaner and paint dust. The smell of an old grease-covered engine block still fires off a wave of pleasant associations in my brain, and so does musty car upholstery. At car shows, I actually stick my head in the windows of old cars, just so I can inhale deeply. Can't get away from it.
But at least there's now one shining bright spot in this dark little universe of dust, mold and hydrocarbons I've built around myself: The inside of my Shop-Vac is immaculate, and smells like Windex and fresh Lemon Pledge. Anything to keep the chipmunks healthy.