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Determined to find out how far her electric truck can go, our Notes From the Home Front columnist set out on a 650-mile road trip from Los Angeles to Southern Utah.
For the first year I owned my electric truck, I didn’t drive it very far out of town for the basic reason that I didn’t have to. Our other car is a hybrid; in the interest of time we’ve always used that for road trips. I didn’t need to take the truck into the wilderness. But what if I wanted to? The question chafed until finally—after the hundredth stranger asked me, how far does can you get on a charge?—I decided to find out. I knew it could be a rough first voyage, so I recruited a friend to travel with me on a two-day trip to Southern Utah, a distance of about 650 miles. If it worked out, we could use it for the next family road trip.
Knowing we would be skirting Death Valley on the way to Southern Utah, I decided to plan the trip in advance using an app. I typed in my vehicle’s information (Ford F-150 Lightning), my starting mileage (about 250 miles of range), and my driving style (slow), and the app calculated a route for me.
With the route predetermined, all I had to do was drive and take notes (not at the same time) and consider the elusive battery question: How low can you go?
Stop One: Victory in Victorville
It’s Tuesday morning at 10 am. I fill a cooler with cold seltzer and snacks and pick up my friend. We leave Los Angeles in the post-rush-hour sweet spot.
Our first stop to charge is Victorville. We have plenty of miles yet in reserve, so we could skip this stop, but we decide not to. It’s a good chance to test the app: Has it accurately predicted how many miles we still have, and more important, has it directed us to a functioning charger?
Yes and yes! If anything, the app is conservative with its estimate, so we’re in good shape. Not only do we have plenty of battery life when we roll in, but there are several open chargers to choose from, and they’re the fast ones.
The heat is more extreme outside of Los Angeles, with readings in the 100s, so we’re grateful when the charging takes us only 35 minutes. My traveling companion is also a mother, and we feel optimistic. After all, when have we managed a rest stop on a road trip with kids that went any faster?
Stop Two: The World’s Largest Thermometer
The sun is rising steadily, and it’s getting hotter: In Baker, California, the World’s Largest Thermometer registers 118 degrees Fahrenheit. We wonder what impact excessive temperatures will have on the charging machines and the people using them.
Happily, I see that even extreme heat cannot wilt the enthusiasm of this electric company (what I call my fellow e-car drivers). Crickets and roadrunners skit around underfoot as I connect the charger, and I overhear one driver warn another to avoid the charger he just approached—it looks functional but it won’t take your payment, she says. He thanks her, and they start chatting about their respective vehicles, what they love, what they don’t.
My friend is surprised and wants to know: Do people always talk to each other this much at public charging stations? They do—it’s one of the first things I noticed when I started driving electric. My friend is as charmed as I was to see how readily people share helpful information, and how curious they are about the newest technology.
Stop Three: Vegas, Baby
It’s here that I start to question my choice of app. In a city this busy, shouldn’t there be more options to choose from? It reminds me of a long-ago college trip to The Strip, trying to find the elusive “best” buffet in town that was also the cheapest. We pass a field of open Tesla chargers but are not equipped to use them. The app sends us to a charger several miles off the freeway. There is only one rapid charger, and it’s in use.
As always, drivers are friendly and chatty, but everyone has a place to go, and I suspect others feel the same urgency I do. When there is only one charger, you want to get there first; otherwise, you could be waiting upwards of forty minutes for a turn. In this heat, you’d better pray for an air-conditioned diner or even a cool truck stop with plenty of aisles to browse. Even then you can kill only so much time counting new varieties of M&Ms, and before you know it, you’re pointing newcomers toward the restrooms like you live there.
As the day goes on, we feel the need to make good time. The battery level is lower, so the charge takes a little more than forty minutes, and then we’re back on the road.
Stop Four: A Long Wait
We want to get one last charge-up before we reach our hotel in St. George; maybe this way we’ll save time in the morning. We feel grateful for the ease of the trip so far, so it doesn’t bother us when we reach the charging station recommended by the app only to discover a fleet of cars ahead of us in line. And there’s a grocery store here! While we wait, we can stock up on cold, caffeinated drinks and snacks we don’t let our kids eat.
Nearly an hour later, still waiting to charge, we have begun to lose enthusiasm. I apologize to my friend and promise to investigate some alternative apps and options for the return trip. Just before I pull out of line, we have a conversation with a driver in the shiny new Kia next to us, a dad whose whole family is in the car with him. They’re new to this–we all are. He has lots of questions, and it’s nice to have a little bit of experience to share with a fellow traveler. It’s one way we can make the time go faster.
Five minutes after we wave goodbye to the dad in the Kia, we are hooked up to a working charger and stretching our legs by doing laps around a Motel 6. Thirty minutes restores our energy and adds about 20% of charge to the battery, more than enough to make it to our destination tonight. The temperature reads 100 degrees on the dash at sundown, and our toothpaste and hand lotion bottles are swollen and warm to the touch when we pull into the hotel, but we have 9% battery—about 18 miles of range—to spare.
Stop Five: An Early-Morning Charge Up
The next morning I am up and out by 5:30 a.m., hoping to find a rapid charger before rush hour. I wish I had thought to bring coffee and breakfast from the lobby because the shiny new charging station I find is not a rapid one. I’ve used slower chargers, but not many; this one takes me an hour and a half. But the sun rising over the red rock is beautiful, and the sky is clear. Don’t get discouraged, I tell myself, get efficient.
Just before I pull out of line, we have a conversation with a driver in the shiny new Kia next to us, a dad whose whole family is in the car with him. They’re new to this–we all are. He has lots of questions, and it’s nice to have a little bit of experience to share with a fellow traveler. It’s one way we can make the time go faster.
Strategy will be especially important on this leg of the trip because as we gain in elevation, we will expend more power. If we play our cards right, we could theoretically glide into town on proverbial fumes, but otherwise we will have to stop and power up in Beaver, Utah.
Stop Six: Almost There
We have to stop and power up in Beaver, Utah. It is one of the longest and most boring stops yet—almost as long as rest stops took in the olden days, when we waited for kids to decide they didn’t have to use the bathroom, then change their minds after the gas was pumped, then get distracted by new M&Ms and lose their place in line.
The very good news is, we make it to our final destination outside Salt Lake City without mishap and make triumphant calls home with the following report:
Miles covered: 650
Charging stops: 6
Time spent charging: about 3 hours
Estimated duration of trip: 9 hours
Actual duration of trip: 12 hours
Was it the quickest trip? No, it was not. But we had fun and stayed safe, and now I feel confident answering that nagging question. How far can I go in an electric truck? As far as I want.
I was surprised how much more pleasant the trip was by stopping more often. I felt more rested and less irritated by the stop-a-lot mode of travel than I usually feel trying to plow through and do it all as fast as possible. A better trip by far!