Post G23-005: Wacky weather? No, just seems that way.

 

With last night’s frost, and this afternoon’s snowstorm, I’m trying to think back to the last time we had an 80 degree (F) day. 

Oh, yeah — day before yesterday.

Which got me to asking whether this most-recent temperature swing was unusual.  At Dulles Airport, they went from a high of 80F on Thursday afternoon, to a low of 27F on Friday night.   Or just over 50F swing over the course of two days.

As it turns out, that’s perfectly normal.  Below I’ve plotted the biggest two-day temperature swing, by year, at Dulles, through 2022.

Source:  Analysis of NOAA data, downloaded via https://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/cdo-web/

As you can plainly see, at least one event of this size seems to happen more-or-less every year.  The upshot is that in this part of the country, going from shorts one day to winter coat the next (or vice-versa) does not count as a particularly unusual weather event.

Post G23-004: Garden plan, 2023, step 2: When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

 

People say the ancients constructed their calendars to keep track of religious holidays, based on astronomical events.  Possibly true.  But a nice side benefit of their religion is that it gave them a clear idea of when to plant their crops in the spring.

In the modern world, of course, we eschew such religion-based planting rituals.  Thus my potatoes will go in the ground on St. Patrick’s day, and no sooner.  Because that’s Science.

If left to my own devices, I would undoubtedly plant too early.  Hence the need for my quasi-religious planting ritual.  Here in Vienna VA, today’s high is expected to be near 80.  Which definitely gets me in a gardening frame of mind.  But tomorrow’s low is well below freezing.  We’re still six weeks from our likely last-frost date.

Without getting into whys and wherefores of our ever-wackier weather, this post  presents my vegetable garden plan for the year.  It takes the form of three questions:

  • Why?
  • What?
  • How?

A brief recap

I started my current round of gardening in order to have something to do during the pit of the COVID-19 pandemic.  If nothing else, shoveling around a few tons of dirt to create raised beds provided much-needed exercise (Post G05).

Many people did the same, leading to shortages of everything gardening-related in 2020.  Starting with empty seed racks at my local hardware stores (Post #G02, April 21, 2020) and ending with a long-lasting shortage of canning jar lids (Post #G21, August 2020).

Gardening was a much nicer experience then than now.  The cessation of much local and long-distance travel meant that the air was cleaner, the skies were blue-er (Post #614, Post #618) , and neighborhoods were a lot quieter.  So quiet I could hear the hum of the bees at work in the garden (Post #G11), a sound I have not heard since.  A big bed of sunflowers, just outside my bedroom window, provided much-needed cheer during what was otherwise a fairly dark time.

But now, the air once again stinks of diesel exhaust, the Northern Virginia summer sky has returned to its traditional smog-white, the constant noise of traffic and construction smothers sound of the bees, and gyms are open for business.

In other words, things are back to normal.


1:  Why?  It’s now my hobby.

When I distill it down, I’m going to continue to garden for four reasons.

One, it gives me a physical activity that actually has a purpose.  Sure, I can go to the gym, and get exercise for exercise’s sake.  I can walk around the neighborhood, for the sake of walking around the neighborhood.  Gardening is a way to get non-pointless exercise.

Two, I really like growing plants.  I guess I can come out and say that.  Mostly food.  But flowers are OK, in moderation.

Third, I’m cheap.  As hobbies go, annual costs don’t get much cheaper than a few pounds of potatoes and a few packets of seeds.  I’m not convinced that my gardening pays for itself in the value of produce.  But the fact that I get anything at all useful out of a hobby is a bonus in and of itself.

Finally, it leaves nothing permanent.  What isn’t eaten turns to compost.  So, unlike (say) woodworking, this doesn’t produce yet-more-clutter, during a period of my life when I’m doing my best to get rid of stuff


2:  What? Only stuff we like to eat.

In an intellectual breakthrough this year, I’ve decided on the following guidelines:

  1. Only plant stuff that we actually like to eat.
  2. Don’t plant stuff that the deer like to eat
  3. Don’t  plant stuff that the bugs like to eat.
  4. Don’t plant stuff susceptible to diseases common in my garden.

Being the kind of guy I am, I of course formalized that with a spreadsheet.  But it doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.

Yellow:  Certain herbs and herb-like plants rank highly here because they are extremely easy to grow, take up little room and cost an arm and a leg at the store.  So, dill and rosemary, which I already grow, and ginger and turmeric, which are apparently easy to grow from grocery-store-purchased product.

Light blue:  Potatoes, sweet potatoes, and winter squash. These all provide a lot of calories per square foot and (so far) have been both extremely easy to grow and highly productive in my garden.  Plus, we like to eat them.

Red:  Tomatoes and sweet peppers.  Easy to grow, we like to eat them.  Say no more.

Dark blue:  The entire garlic and onion clan.  I’ve had such spotty luck with these over the years, I’m going to skip them this year.  Plus, my yields have been lousy.

Green:  Peas, beans, lettuce, okra.  We like to eat them just fine, but all require significant fuss.  And, except for green beans, in a good year, yields are modest at best.  But peas and lettuce can go in when it’s cold, and my wife likes green beans.  So these are definitely going to get planted.  Some.  Not a lot.

Purple:  Cucumbers and summer squash.  I’ve had such a bad time with insect pests that I’m skipping those this year.


3:  How?  When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

After three years in the Virginia climate, my temporary raised beds are “showing their age”.  Which is a nice way of saying “falling apart”.  I put up a set of temporary raised beds during the pandemic, recycling some yard signs, bamboo, and other materials around the yard.  Their temporary nature is now showing pretty badly.

I did that to minimize my investment.  I figured that if gardening didn’t work out, I could just tear them apart, spread the dirt on the low spots on the lawn, and plant grass.  Nothing wasted.  Nothing headed for the landfill that wasn’t already headed there before I tried gardening.

So I’ve reached a fork in the road.  Either I do what I had planned on originally, take the beds down, use the dirt to even out the lawn, and be done with gardening.  Or kick it up a notch.

Separately, things snowballed beyond the mere construction of the beds.  In addition to the beds, I now have irrigation line, various types of row cover and insect netting, trellising material, tomato cages, deer deterrent devices, and so on.  Not a huge dollar investment, as these things go.  But it’s a lot of stuff that serves no purpose outside of gardening.

The upshot is that I’m now going to go back and do this right.   But only as a last resort.  The patchwork of temporary beds of varying depths, oriented along the low spots of the lawn, will be replaced by a single long bed oriented east-west, with a permanent trellis along the back.  This will simplify everything from irrigation to protection against deer, and dovetail with the remaining in-ground beds that are now devoted to cane fruits.

I quite like the coroplast (yard sign) sides, and as I have several long sheets of that around, the new bed is going to be coroplast-and-post as well.  I see no reason to import materials if I have durable materials on hand that would otherwise be trash.

As an extra added bonus, this allows me to re-shovel the multiple tons of dirt that I ordered in the first place.  Much better than wasting my time at the gym.  And see how my hugelculture experiment turned out.  There are trash pieces of wood at the bottoms of all these beds, and I’ll get to see what happened to them after three years in the soil.

The goal is to have a single, well-constructed bed of uniform depth, with trellising, deer protection, and irrigation built in.  We’ll see how close I come to that ideal.


 Conclusion

After three years of seat-of-the-pants gardening in temporary raised beds, I have reached a fork in the road.  I’m going to take what I learned in the past three years, and move forward with a single permanent bed incorporating everything I think I need to grow a bit of vegetables and flowers in my back yard.  And at that point, I’ll focus on a few things that we really like to eat fresh out of the garden and that seem to grow well in this climate.  And hope for the best.

Post #1714: Ah, crap, another 80 MPG trip.

 

I am presently recovering from a severe shoulder sprain.

It was self-inflicted, the result of patting myself on the back too hard.

The problem starts with my wife’s Prius Prime.  It has more-than-met our expectations in every respect.  In particular, as-driven, it typically exceeds the EPA mileage rating, either on gas or electricity.

Lately, I’ve been trying a few techniques to try to squeeze some extra gas mileage out of the car.  Just some around-town trips, driving it to try to keep the gas engine in its most efficient zone.  Which, per Post #1711,  boiled down to fast starts on gasoline, followed by coasting on electricity.  Below, that’s an attempt to stay on the top of the green efficiency “hill”, followed by keeping the gas engine off while driving in the aqua “EV carve out” zone.  (The labels on the contour lines are “efficiency”, the percent of the energy in the gasoline that is convert to motion.)

Results were encouraging.  A couple of test trials showed mid-70-MPG for a series of trips and test runs, entirely on gasoline (using no grid electricity).  Given that the car has an EPA rating of 55 MPG for city driving, I figured I was doing something right.

But at some point, it dawned on me that

  1. the current EPA mileage test is based on the typical U.S. driver (i.e., somebody who drives like a bat out of hell, whenever possible), and
  2. I have no idea what my “typical” city mileage is, because I almost never drive the car, around town, on gasoline.

In short, I made a classic mistake of trying to do an experiment without a control.  I had no baseline to which I could compare my results.  I literally didn’t know what mileage the car would get if I wasn’t fooling around with the accelerator pedal.

I decided to find out.  Yesterday we took a trip out to my sister-in-law’s and back.  About 15 miles, mostly on 35 MPH suburban roads, rolling hills, no traffic to speak of.  Gas only.  Didn’t need the AC or the heat.  Relatively few stop lights.  Driving normally.  (But acknowledging that I’m a light-footed driver by nature, and that monitoring the car via a Scangauge 3 has done nothing but increase that tendency.)

In short, reasonably close to ideal conditions for a trip.

Results:  The odometer clicked over to 80 MPG for the trip, just as we were returning to our driveway.

I am reminded of the following medical advice:  If untreated, the common cold will last a week.  But with proper medical attention, you can expect a full recovery in just seven days.

Thus it would appear, for urban hypermiling in a Prius Prime.  As-driven, 80 MPG, for my suburban area.  No fancy footwork required.

Post #1713: Norfolk Southern Accident History

 

As we all know by now, the cause for the recent Ohio train derailment was traced to an overheated, failed wheel bearing, per the National Transportation Safety Board.

Sounds like a random equipment failure that, in this case, had some bad consequences.

But isn’t that just part of a much larger pattern of neglect, leading to an ever-increasing rate of train derailments?

No.  And that’s easy to say, because, of course the Feds track this.  Of course you can access it.  You just need to bother to look.

From the Federal Railroad Administration, Office of Safety Analysis, Ten-year query form.  Data for 2022 are preliminary through November.

Norfolk Southern’s rate of derailments has been more-or-less the same over the past two decades.  Same for accidents involving hazardous materials.

Obviously, facts cannot possibly compete with the angertainment-fest that has become our national news reporting.  As evidenced by the comments sections on newspaper articles.

But on the off chance that you might have been wondering about this, the answer is no.  For Norfolk Southern, the rate of accidents of this type is about what it has been for the past twenty years.

Post #1712: The Balkanization of EV battery recycling

 

Background:  I can’t get rid of the damned thing.

My wife and I have been believers in electrically-powered transport for some time now.

In 2008, we bought an aftermarket battery pack to convert my wife’s 2005 Prius into a plug-in hybrid electric vehicle.  At the time, the manufacturer (A123 systems) assured us that the battery pack would be fully recyclable, and that they had partnered with Toxco, Inc. to guarantee that.

To be honest, that retrofit never worked very well.  It wasn’t the battery’s fault.  The main limitation was that a Prius of that generation wasn’t really built to function as an electric vehicle.  That placed a lot of limitations in driving in all-electric (“EV”) mode.  Gasoline savings were modest, at best.

Fast-forward to 2012.  A123 had gone bankrupt.  Toxco was no longer in the battery recycling business.  We had a problem with the charger on that battery pack, and decided to have it fixed, in large part because, at that time, there was no way to get rid of the damned thing.  Far less hassle to fix it and keep using it.

At that time, the word was that infrastructure for EV battery recycling was just around the corner.  But from a practical perspective, here in Virginia, we couldn’t find someone to take that off our hands and recycle it.

Fast forward to 2018, and the original nickel-metal-hydride traction battery in that Prius died.  We thought about scrapping the car at that point (177K miles), but everything else was fine, we dreaded the thought of buying a new car.  So we we paid to have the dealer install a new Toyota nickel-metal-hydride (NiMH) traction battery.  (Toyota recycles the dead NiMH batteries recovered through their dealerships.)   But, in part, the decision to keep the car was driven by that A123 battery pack.  We looked around for recyclers, but there was still no way to get rid of the damned thing.

Apparently, EV battery recycling was still just around the corner.

Jump to 2023.  It now looks like that 15-year-old A123 pack has finally given up the ghost.  It will no longer charge.  And at this point, we have no interest in trying to get it fixed, even if we could.  Any money spent on that would be better invested in getting a new purpose-built PHEV, such as a Prius Prime.

I’m sure you’ve guessed the punchline.   I just looked around for recyclers, and yet again, there is even still no way to get rid of the damned thing.

Now, that’s not 100% true.  There’s an on-line ad for a company that, if I give them all my information, might be willing to offer me a quote on how much they’ll charge to recycle my particular battery.  There might be a shop as close as North Carolina that might take it, if I could prepare it properly.  I haven’t bothered to inquire.  My wife’s going to call the dealer who installed it originally, after this three-day weekend, and see if they’ll remove it and dispose of it for us.  (Last time we asked, that wasn’t an option.)

My point is there’s no place within, say, 200 miles, that I can just call up, make and appointment, and drop off the battery for recycling.  It’s all either a custom, one-off service, or requires crating and shipping the battery, or required driving at least hundreds of miles, round-trip, if I can find a place that will take it.

On the plus side, I’m in no hurry.  A fully-discharged lithium-ion battery isn’t a fire hazard.  I’ve checked several sources on that, and that’s the overwhelming consensus.  A completely discharged lithium-ion battery is just dead weight, not a death trap.  You definitely don’t want to try to recharge one and power it up, once it has been over-discharged, as it can easily form internal short-circuits in an over-discharged state.  That can lead to a big problem in a short amount of time.  (And chargers in general will not allow you to try to charge a lithium-ion battery with excessively low starting voltage, for exactly this reason.)  But as long as you don’t do anything stupid — don’t bypass the charger, don’t puncture it, don’t roast it — it’ll remain intert.

On the minus side, it looks like the U.S. EV battery recycling industry is in no hurry, either.  I sure don’t perceive a lot of forward motion since the last time I looked at this.  Worse, what seems to be happening is that the industry is going to get split up along manufacturer lines.  Tesla will recycle Tesla batteries, Toyota will recycle Toyota batteries.  And if you fall into the cracks — with some off-brand battery — there will still be no way to get rid of the damned thing.


My impressions of the EV battery recycling market

I’ve been tracking this market for more than a decade now.  With the personal stake described above.  I thought I might take a minute to offer my observations.  In an unscientific way, without citation as to source.

First, it doesn’t pay to recycle these.  At least, not yet.  That was surely true a decade ago, and my reading of is that it’s still true.  So you’ll see people talk about the tons of materials saved, for ongoing operations.  But I don’t think you’ll hear anybody say what a cash cow lithium battery recycling is.

Second, EV battery recyclers start up and fail at an astonishing rate.  Near as I can tell, none of the companies involved in it, when I looked back in 2012, are still in that business.  I just looked up a current list of companies that cooperate with GM dealers for EV battery recycling, and all the names were new to me.  This “churning” of the industry has been fairly widely noted by industry observers.

Third, we’re still just around that damned corner.  The Biden infrastructure bill appears to have about a third of a billion dollars earmarked for development of EV battery recycling (source).

But surely you realize what that means.  See “First” above.  The fact that the Feds have to subsidize EV battery recycling is pretty much proof that it just doesn’t pay to recycle these big lithium-ion EV batteries.  At least not yet.

Finally, car markers are developing their own captive recyclers, for their own batteries.  Tesla has its own systems.  GM has contracts with a limited number of vendors, plausibly to serve GM dealerships.  Toyota has its own system, for batteries recovered by its dealerships.

That last move makes perfect sense.  Because recycling is a net cost, and yet a significant consumer concern, manufacturers are pledging to take care of their batteries, if they are recycled via their dealers.  But, so far, I’m not seeing any generic recycling capability for (say) any hybrid or EV showing up at a junkyard.  Let alone for my oddball A123 batteries.

Per this article, it currently costs Tesla more than $4 per pound to recycle its lithium-ion batteries.  At that cost, you can see why they might be willing to deal with their own, but they’re sure not going to take anybody else’s batteries for recycling.  It’s not clear that other processes — with less complete recycling of all the materials — are as costly as Tesla’s.  As of 2021, at least one company was in the business of simply warehousing used EV batteries on behalf of vehicle manufacturers, handing batteries replaced under warranty.   The theory is that right now, it’s cheaper to store them and hope for lower recycling costs down the road (reference).

I’m sure that big junkyards and scrap yards have some way of dealing with these, at some cost.  Surely plenty of the (e.g.) Generation 3 Toyota Prius hybrids with lithium-ion batteries have now been scrapped.  I don’t know if they can recycle via Toyota’s internal system, or if … well, I just don’t know.


Conclusion

All I know, at present, is that if I can recycle that totally dead 5 KWH A123 lithium-ion battery pack, it’s going to be either a hassle or a major expense or both.  As long as I can get it recycled, I will.

But, the fact is, until that 2005 Prius actually dies, I won’t have to face up to it.

And, in a nutshell, that characterizes the American market for lithium-ion EV battery recycling.

I’ve decided just to let that dead battery be, and let the 2005 Prius continue to haul around that 300 extra pounds of dead weight.

Because, as we all know, readily-available EV battery recycling is just around the corner.

Post #1711: State-of-charge hypermiling and a generalized theory of pulse-and-glide

Why pulse-and-glide saves gas.

Gasoline engines run most efficiently when under a fairly heavy load.  Load them too lightly, or too heavily, and their efficiency drops.

Below is the “efficiency contour” of a hypothetical 2 liter Atkinson cycle engine. Engine RPM is on the X-axis.  Engine load (output) is on the Y-axis.  The labels on contour lines are percents, and show the fraction of the energy in the gasoline that is converted into motion by the engine.  Those contour lines define a sort of hill, with the peak of the hill — maximum efficiency — occurring when this engine is running around 2500 RPM, putting out about 100 horsepower. And converts just shy of 39% of the energy in the gas into usable power.

Source:  Kargul, John & Stuhldreher, Mark & Barba, Daniel & Schenk, Charles & Bohac, Stanislav & McDonald, Joseph & Dekraker, Paul & Alden, Josh. (2019). Benchmarking a 2018 Toyota Camry 2.5-Liter Atkinson Cycle Engine with Cooled-EGR. SAE International journal of advances and current practices in mobility. 1. 10.4271/2019-01-0249. Accessible though this link.

The engine modeled above is a 2.0 liter Atkinson-cycle engine.  That’s just a bit bigger than the 1.8 liter engine that’s actually in the Prius Prime.  But it’s close enough.

Below, there’s the crux of the problem.  Much of the time, the engine is inefficiently lightly loaded.  I’ve marked the power required to cruise on level ground at a steady 55 MPH in a Prius.  The car only needs about 12 HP.  (I infer this from the ~12 KW of power drawn to keep the car at that speed in electric (EV) mode.   That power, less about a 20% loss in the electric motors, is the energy required at the wheels to keep the car moving forward at that speed.

And so, if you cruise along at a steady 55 MPH on the gas engine, even though the car won’t be burning a huge amount of gas, what little it burns will be burned inefficiently.

Instead of running that engine steadily at 12 HP output, you could alternatively run it hard — run it briefly at 100 HP — then shut it off.  And repeat as necessary.  That’s pulse-and-glide.

And that’s why pulse-and-glide saves gas.  You extract energy from gasoline as efficiently as possible, by running the engine under heavy load.  And then you match the engine output, to the average power required by the car, by cycling the engine on and off as needed.

Traditional pulse-and-glide makes you a rolling hazard.

With traditional (or kinetic-energy) pulse and glide, you first run the gas engine and speed up.  Then switch it off, coast, and slow down.  And repeat.

Practically speaking, this is of almost no value on the public highways, because this makes you a nuisance to other drivers.  It makes you into a rolling traffic hazard.

Potential energy pulse-and-glide requires the right terrain.

Speeding up, however, is not the only way to store the output of the car’s engine.  Going up a hill works just as well.  You store that excess output in the form of potential energy (height) instead of kinetic energy (speed).  Apply gas on the uphills, coast with engine off on the downhills.

I can attest that this most definitely works.  This is how I achieved my last two 80-MPG all-gasoline (no energy from the grid) road trips.

Needless to say, this only works where you have significant hills.  Ideally, hills large enough that the car will maintain the posted speed limit on the downhill with no or minimal energy input from the drive train.

A new/old concept:  State-of-charge pulse-and-glide.

Both methods described above can be done by a standard gas car.  No electric motors are required.  In fact, in a Prius, you achieve maximum efficiency under either method if you never use your electric motors.  (Using the gas engine to charge the battery, then run the motors, wastes about 30% of the power produced.)  Champion Prius hypermilers actually shift the car into neutral on the “coast” phase, specifically to avoid moving electric current into or out of the battery via the motor/generators.

But a plug-in hybrid electric vehicle (PHEV) like the Prius Prime has yet a third option, which I’m going to call state-of-charge pulse and glide.

To be clear, what I’m about to describe is something that the car does, on its own, anyway.  The only question is whether you can modify your driving behavior to take exceptional advantage of it.

If you use the gas engine to charge the battery, then run the electric motors, that wastes about 30% of the energy produced by the gas engine.  So, at first blush, it seems like you’d want to avoid using those electric motors.

But, if you charge that battery at the peak of the gas-engine efficiency curve, that means the electric motors are using up your gas with somewhere around (0.7*38% = ) 27% efficiency.

This leads to the section that I’ve labeled “EV carve out” above.  Roughly speaking, if the driving situation requires less than about 25 KW of power, it’s more efficient to run in EV (electric-only) mode, as long as you can later recharge the battery at relatively high engine load.  (So that the recharge happens near peak gas engine efficiency.)

In the Prius Prime, assuming this engine chart is a reasonable proxy for the actual Prime 1.8 L engine, that has the following practical implication for running the car in hybrid-vehicle (no-grid-power-used) mode.  If you can, you should run on electricity-only up to a current draw of about 90 amps.  That’s the point at which the electric motors, less their inherent 20% loss, are producing about 25 KW of power. That’s the point where switching to gas propulsion is more efficient.

But the closer you get to that 90 amp limit, the less advantage electricity has over gas, and the less gas you are saving.  So, from a battery wear-and-tear perspective, it’s probably best not to push it that far.  You will likely get the bulk of your savings with a more conservative limit of (say) 50 amps, or roughly a “2 C” discharge rate.  (The rate at which the entire EV battery would be dead in half an hour.)  Assuming the car will let you do that, in hybrid mode.

So, a conservative rule-of-thumb is that a power output of somewhere around 17.5 KW (25 HP) is where you should try to flip the car from gas to electric and back.

To be clear, the car does something like this on its own.  At low power demands, it shuts off the gas engine and used the electric motors.

What I have noticed, however, is that there’s considerable hysteresis in the car’s decision.  In particular, once the gas engine is on, it tends to stay on until power demand gets quite low.

So I believe that driver intervention can improve mileage, using (e.g.) terrain anticipation.  If you’re coming to a stretch of road with likely low power demands — cresting a hill, starting a slow deceleration, or just coming up to a level stretch — you may be able to beat the Prius’ internal algorithms.  Conversely, when you see a high-power-demand situation coming up — a hill, say — you can flip the car into gas mode before it begins to bog down in electric mode.

My simple initial rule-of-thumb will be a 50-amp cutoff.  When in hybrid mode, drive the car on the electric motors up to 50 amps current or low state-of-charge cutoff, whichever comes first.  Anything over 50 amps, nudge the accelerator to kick the car into gas mode.

Edit:  I decided to do a little acid test of the concept.  As every driver knows, the worst trips for a gas engine are short, around-town jaunts.  I decided to do a little run to a couple of stores, in hybrid vehicle mode, total trip of about 8 miles, divide into three legs with stops in-between.  After the mandatory gas-engine warm-up period, whenever the gas engine came on/power was needed, I loaded the gas engine heavily.  I gave it enough throttle to bring it immediately to the “power” zone on the dashboard.  But, once up to speed, I let off the accelerator to shut the gas engine off, and drove for as long as feasible on electricity only, respecting a maximum draw of 50 amps.

Results:  71 MPG.  And it was clear that if I’d had a longer distance between stops, that would have increased. 

One short trip does not prove the concept.  And the Prius chastised me soundly for those hard accelerations, basically giving me a flunking score on the eco-meter.  Nevertheless, I consider this first test to be encouraging.

By the book, and by the dashboard readouts, I was doing everything wrong. And yet, it’s hard to argue with the MPG.

Edit 2, 2/19/2023.  Not so fast.  Building on the above, I went to a local disused office building and circled the parking lot.  Roughly a 1.3 mile circuit, 25 hour speed limit, three full stops per loop.  On one set of loops, I tried this hypermiling approach.  On another set, I drove gently, then used the “charge” function to bring the battery state-of-charge back to its original level. 

Results:  In both cases, I got about 75 MPG.  Which, in hindsight, may simply be what the Prius Prime gets, driven in hybrid (gas-using) mode, around 25 MPH.

I think the moral of the story is that I’ve done so little around-town driving in hybrid (gas-using) mode that I’m not sure sure what sort of gas mileage I should expect as a baseline.

Conclusion

Anyone who has ever used the Prius cruise control in hilly country knows that it’s quite “reactive”.  It doesn’t anticipate the hills, but instead holds speed steady, then pushes the car far out onto the power curve in an attempt to maintain speed on the uphill.  For that reason alone, I don’t use the cruise control on hilly roads, as I feel that I can drive the car more efficiently in manual mode, making some modest adjustments in speed on the downhills and uphills.

Similarly, I’m betting I can squeeze a little extra mileage out of the car, in hybrid mode, by manually selecting the point of switch-over between gas and electric propulsion, and pushing the gas engine at high load to maximize efficient use of gasoline.  Then, once at speed, or over the crest of a hill, lifting my foot off the gas briefly to shut the gas engine down, and continuing in electric-only mode as feasible.

You need an extra bit of instrumentation to be able to do that well.  I’m using a Scangauge 3, which will show me quantities such as battery current, engine RPM, and engine output.

What makes this work, as a form of pulse-and-glide, is, of course, the traction battery.  That’s where the excess power production of the gas engine is stored if not needed.  So the right way to view this is state-of-charge pulse-and-glide.  Instead of letting the speed vary (kinetic energy), or the height vary (potential energy), you let the battery state-of-charge vary (electrical energy).

Same concept either way, you just choose a different place to store the excess power output of well-loaded gas engine.  With different implications for how usable pulse-and-glide is, in actual highway traffic, for a given terrain.

Finally, I note that there have been recent patents issued for systems that would automatically pulse-and-glide large trucks, based on a system that anticipates changes in terrain.  They seem to be characterized as a more fuel-efficient form of cruise control.  With everything in modern cars being controlled by a computer, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to think that some form of automated pulse-and-glide — a fuel-saving cruise-control mode — might eventually become a standard option on vehicles capable of doing it.

With that point of view, driving a gas engine at a constant, low engine load is something of a relic of the past.  It dates to the era when there was literally a metal cable connecting your gas pedal to the throttle body on the carburetor.  With everything computer-controlled these days — and carburetors a thing of the far distant past, for cars — it doesn’t seem like a stretch to ask your computer to do your energy-saving pulse-and-glide for you. As long as you have some safe way to store that excess gas-engine output.

Post G23-003: Garden plan, 2023, step 1.

As my store-bought organic potatoes chit (sprout), in anticipation of planting on St. Patrick’s day, I am in the process of figuring out what else I’m going to grow this year.

In a surprise move, I’m going to take my wife’s advice and … wait for it — only plant stuff that we actually like to eat.

Then it occurred to me that I should only plant stuff that the deer don’t like to eat.

Now that I was surfing that intellectual tsunami, I went out on a limb by saying that I probably don’t want to plant stuff that my local bugs like to eat.

Finally, drafting in the wake of that runaway 18-wheeler of brilliance, maybe I should avoid plants that are susceptible to diseases frequently found in my garden.

Fantastic.  Easy-peasy.  Planning accomplished.

I just need to fill in the details.

Unfortunately, when I do the Venn diagram of those four insights, I’m left with:

And I’m not all that sure about the red one.

(Plus, as I understand it, that “guy” on the left is now part of a lefty-liberal plot for the emasculation of America.  Pink ears, blue shoes — that’s certainly a mixed message, but that’s the way the libs go after it.  Slow rot.  Next thing you know, they’ll be taking away his angry eyes.  And then they’re coming for your potato cannon and spud gun!!  You’ve been warned!!!)

Time for a bit of a rethink.  More soon.

 

 

Post #1710: The best thing that ever happened to all my friends’ gas mileage.

My wife bought her first Prius in 2005.  We tend to forget, but there was a lot of hatred expressed toward that car, at that time.  Which sounds hilarious now, but is true.  There was also disinformation spread about that car, similar to the disinformation you’ll hear these days regarding electric vehicles.  E.g., that the Prius had single-handedly ruined Sudbury, Ontario due to the need for nickel for the battery.

There was also a lot of just-plain-ordinary denial.  That car got an EPA-rated 46 MPG, which, for the time, and the size of the car, was absolutely outstanding.  This was a time when you could not find a traditional gas car with similar interior volume that broke 30 MPG.

It was, as I have noted before, alone in its level of efficiency.  That’s expressed below by an index combining gas mileage and interior volume.  (This is my calculation, from EPA mileage data.)

At that time, if you were willing to drive a small car, and required that it get at least a whopping 35 MPG overall, your choices were:

  • Honda Insight (basically, a tiny 2-seater).
  • Honda Civic Hybrid (as shown on the chart above).
  • Three small VW models with 35 MPG turbo-diesels.

This per the federal website fueleconomy.gov.

And yet, I used to joke that my wife’s Prius single-handedly improved the gas mileage of the U.S. automobile fleet.  Because, every time we mentioned 46 MPG, the universal response was, “Big deal, I get almost that good of a mileage in my fill-in-the-blank.”  That Prius was the best thing that ever happened to the gas mileage of all of our friends’ cars.

The first year we owned that car, we heard about all kinds of mythical non-hybrid vehicles that easily got over 40 MPG.  Easily.  All the time.  Without all that fancy hybrid nonsense.

In reality, none of these folks had a clue what they were talking about.  None had actually carefully tracked mileage.  Most had some impression of some road trip they once took where they think they got great mileage.  Nobody was talking about city mileage.  And so on.

But they all knew that hybrids were just so much hype.

As I continue to learn how to drive my wife’s 2021 Prius Prime for greatest fuel economy, I keep setting new personal bests.  Most recently, we drove out to a local scenic byway (the Snickersville Turnpike) and back.  Door-to-door, using “hybrid mode” (no energy from the grid), we managed to get 82.4 MPG over the course of the 80-mile round trip.

That was a mix of 55+ MPH urban arterial highways, country roads, and then small-town streets.  So, no high-speed interstate driving.

Back in the day, people could fool themselves into thinking that their non-hybrid vehicle was just about as efficient as a Prius.  Even though the U.S. EPA clearly said otherwise.

But this most recent generation of Prius, when driven with an eye toward best mileage (Post #1624), gets such eye-popping numbers that I don’t think you can kid yourself any more.  This is now my second trip where I’ve ended around 80 MPG, driving the car in hybrid mode (i.e., not using energy from the grid.)  Even our interstate trips now routinely yield high-60’s MPGs (admittedly, without the extreme speed limits present on Western interstates.)

And, separately, more than 70% of our miles are run purely on electricity from the grid.  Which means the 65-to-80 MPG observed in hybrid mode is our version of gas-guzzling.  In “EV mode”, using the battery and not the gas engine, we manage somewhere around what the EPA would term 150 MPGe.

This isn’t by way of bragging.  It’s by way of setting the record straight about what’s routinely and reliably available these days.  For not much money, as new car prices go.

I continue to read articles about how hard it is to move to electric transport, what a huge expense it entails, and so on.  And, yeah, you can make it hard, and you can make it expensive, and inconvenient.

But none of that has to be true.  Buy a quality plug-in hybrid electric vehicle (PHEV).  If you’re like us, you’ll get most of the benefits of electrical transport and none of the drawbacks.  Sure, you have to have some faith in the technology.  You need to learn the do’s and don’t of taking care of that big battery.  In a few areas,  electricity is currently a more expensive fuel than gas, by a modest amount.  But as far as I can tell, hybrids started out pretty good, and they just keep getting better.

I’m no longer satisfied when I only get 80 MPG, driving my wife’s hybrid.  And I find that absolutely mind-blowing.

Post #1709: Penultimate COVID update, I hope

 

Yesterday the Washington Post reported that Johns Hopkins is winding down its three-year effort to track the COVID numbers.  That’s a pretty good signal that it’s time to wind this down as well.  For now, both the New York Times and the CDC continue to track the data.  If you want something reasonably up-to-date, you can look there.

As it stands, the number of new cases continues to recede slowly.  We’re now down to an average of 10 new cases / 100K population / day, down from 12 last week.  And it’s getting on toward Spring, when incidence of viral respiratory illness normally declines.  So I expect that the numbers will continue on that slow downward trend, moving forward.

I might check this one last time, a month from now, just to see where things stand.  But right now, this is what we live with.   No point in saying anything more.

Continue reading Post #1709: Penultimate COVID update, I hope