Post #1649: Capital Bikeshare at Tysons: 170 slots, 14 locations, 6 round trips a day.

 

This final bit of analysis of Capital Bikeshare is here just in case anybody in Vienna actually believes the cheerleader-style reporting you may read regarding  Capital Bikeshare.

Here’s the actual use of the Bikeshare racks around Tysons, for the past 12 months. To understand this, realize that the underlying unit of data is a “trip leg”.  It’s a transport of a bicycle from one rack to another, or, in the case of a round trip, from one rack back to that same rack.  E.g.  if you rode one of these bikes from the Metro station to work in the morning, and then back in the evening, that would be two trip-legs.

To get a better estimate of the actual number of users, I divide trip-legs by two to get “trips”.  (Except for round-trips, for which each one counts as a trip).  I’m betting that in most cases, this is a far better estimate of the number of unique users on any given day.

Then, I divided these 12-month totals by 365 to get them on a per-day basis.

The upshot is that, on a typical day, the entire Capital Bikeshare investment in the Tyson’s Metro area — 14 racks, total of 170 bike slots, and an unknown number of bikes — typically benefits six people.

Let me point out that this is a mostly-mature system at this point.  Most of those racks have been there for years now.  And let me further point out that it looked just like that the last time I analyzed the data for Tysons Metro in isolation.  And it looks like this out in the far Maryland ‘burbs as well. And in Reston.

If you can look at that, and say, oh, boy, let’s spend a quarter-mil to install those in my Town  — then let’s pay Lyft (the owner of the company that operates Capital Bikeshare) whatever annual maintenance they charge, on top of that.

If you can say that, then I think you and I live in alternative realities.

I don’t even care if it’s somebody else’s tax dollars paying for it. Building more of these, when we already know what the outcome looks like out here in the exurbs, is just the worst kind of government.

In case anybody wants to check my work — nobody ever does — the underlying data are here:  https://ride.capitalbikeshare.com/system-data.

Finally, let me reiterate that in the central urban core of the DC area, Capital Bikeshare is a fine idea and it works well.  (I’ve said that in almost all of my prior posts on this topic, and repeat it here to be sure that you understand I am not anti-bike or anti-Capital-Bikeshare.)  The heavy use of the bikes in that area contributes to a reasonable cost-per-ride.  But in those areas, a) there are lots of nearby places to go from and to, where racks can be sited, and b) as I recall, a typical bike rack slot turns over an average of six times a day.

In other words, there are maybe two-orders-of-magnitude more riders per bike slot in the dense urban core than in the far-flung suburbs.  Bikeshare provides value in that urban core.  It does not out here.

Realistic transportation policy needs to recognize that and be shaped accordingly.  Early on, local governments could be forgiven for taking a chance on a technology that, in hindsight, just doesn’t work out here.  Now, by contrast, with all the accumulated evidence, there’s no longer any excuse.  We know it doesn’t work, in the sense of having an outrageous average cost per mile of transportation, due to negligible use rates.  Why are we still expanding it?

Post #1624: 80 MPG?

 

Not quite.  But I think I’m finally figuring out how to drive my wife’s Prius Prime.

Above is the gas mileage on my wife’s Prius Prime, after a round trip from Vienna VA to Harper’s Ferry WV.  This is all after resetting the odometer once the battery was depleted.  So it’s straight-up gas mileage.

This trip contained a short section of high-speed driving, but was mostly hilly primary and secondary roads in western Virginia and West Virginia.  And I think I finally understand how I’m getting such great mileage.

The Prius Prime loves hilly roads.  It is an excellent car for a particular style of pulse-and-glide driving.

Continue reading Post #1624: 80 MPG?

Post 1621: Look ma, no battery!

 

Or, “why I truly don’t give a 💩 about high gasoline prices in the U.S.”, the sequel.

Back in June of this year, in Post #1454, I explained why I didn’t give a 💩 about the price of gas.  In a nutshell, I don’t use much.  I drive my wife’s Prius Prime.  The 30-mile battery range covers essentially all our local travel.  One we’ve run through that, the gas mileage is outstanding.

The genesis of the prior post was our annual trip to Ocean City, Maryland, where the car got 72 MPG on the highway.

I figured it was a fluke.  There were no hills to speak of.  We probably caught a tailwind.  Unlikely to be repeated.

Today we went leaf-peeping, driving from Vienna VA to Sperryville, VA and back.  There is just something about the autumn scenery in central Virginia that my wife and I both love.

(Best sign seen on the trip:  “God Allows U-Turns”.  This, at the exit of the parking lot of a little church in Sperryville where we were — yeah — making a U-turn.)

The trip was a combination of interstate highways, then primary and secondary highways traversing hilly terrain. It was a nice drive — once we got off the interstate.  I reset the odometer after the battery was depleted so that I could check the gas mileage.

Lo and behold, in round numbers, 72 MPG.  Straight-up gasoline-powered transport, no battery.  Completely different terrain, time of year, and driving conditions compared to last time.

So, no fluke.  I’m not drafting trucks. I’m not doing 35 in the right-hand lane.  I’m  just keeping up with traffic, and paying a bit of attention to instrumentation on the dashboard that offers guidance for best fuel economy.  (And it didn’t hurt that we didn’t need AC or heat for this trip.)

It’s odd how your expectations change.  These days, if I come in under 65 MPG for the gas portion of a trip, I’m disappointed.

This is not as clean as a pure EV of the same size.  At least, not as clean, at Virginia’s current electrical generating mix.  But it’s not bad for the latest refinement of a gasoline-based technology that Toyota put on the road more than two decades ago.  And the same drive train that gets us 72 on the highway allows us an effortless transition to electrical transport for all our around-town driving.

For us, this plug-in hybrid electric vehicle (PHEV) is absolutely the sweet spot in the spectrum of what’s on the market today.  After a year of driving this car, we have no regrets about buying it.

Post #1618: There ain’t no disputin’ Sir Isaac Newton: Efficient driving in an EV.


Driving an electric vehicle (EV) efficiently is forcing me to learn some new driving habits.  And, in particular, I have to un-learn some cherished techniques used for driving a gas-powered car efficiently.

When I look for advice on driving an EV efficiently, all I get is a rehash of standard advice for driving a gas car.  But the more I ponder it, and the more I pay attention to the instrumentation on my wife’s Prius Prime, the more I’m convinced that’s basically wrong.

An electric motor is fundamentally different from a gas engine.  With an electric motor, you want to avoid turning your electricity into heat, rather than motion.  That boils down to avoiding “ohmic heating”, also known as I-squared-R losses.

To minimize those heating losses, you want to accomplish any given task using or generating constant power.  That task might be getting up to speed after stopping at a red light, or coming to a stop for a red light, in some given length of roadway.

Here’s the weird thing.  Assuming I have that right — assuming that an efficient EV driving style focuses on providing or generating constant power over the course of an acceleration or deceleration — that implies a completely different driving style, compared to what is recommended for efficient driving of a gas-powered vehicle.

In particular, the standard advice for gas cars boils down to accelerating and decelerating with constant force.  When you take off from a stop light, aim for a constant moderate rate of acceleration.  When you are coming to a stop, aim for a steady rate of deceleration.  Constant acceleration or deceleration boils down to constant force on the wheels, courtesy of Sir Isaac Newton’s F = MA (force is mass times acceleration).

But power is not force.  As I show briefly, in the next section.  In a car, power depends on speed.  Constant force on the brake pedal (and so, on the brake rotors in a traditional car) generates far more power at high speed than at low speed.  Similarly, a constant rate of acceleration consumes more power at high speed than at low speed.

And so, there seems to be a fundamental conflict between the way I was taught to drive a gas car efficiently, and what seems to be the right way to drive an EV efficiently.

In a nutshell, to drive an EV efficiently, you should be more of a lead-footed driver at low speeds.  And taper off as the car speeds up.   Conversely, hit the brakes lightly at high speed.  And press the brakes harder as the car slows.

That’s the driving style that aims for production and consumption of power at a constant rate, over the length of each acceleration or deceleration. And that’s completely contrary to the way I was taught to drive a gas vehicle.

Think of it this way.  Suppose you apply a certain level of force to the brake pedal of a traditional car.  The resulting friction between brake pads and rotors will generate heat.  That rate of heat production is, by definition, power, as physicists define it.  You’re going to generate a lot more heat per second at 80 MPH than you are at 4 MPH.  (In fact, 20 times as much.)  Restated, for a given level of force, you are bleeding a lot more power off the car’s momentum at 80 MPH than at 4 MPH.  And those big differences in power, over the course of an acceleration or deceleration, are exactly what you want to avoid in an EV with regenerative braking, in order to avoid I-squared-R losses.

 


Force and power:  A brief bit of physics and algebra

1:  Two definitions or laws of physics

Work = Force x Distance

Power = Work/Time

2:  A bit of algebra

Substitute for the definition of work:

Power = (Force x Distance) / Time.

Re-arrange the terms:

Power = Force x (Distance/Time)

Distance/time = speed (definition)

Power = Force x speed.

For a constant level of force applied to or removed from the wheels, the rate of power consumption (or production) is proportional to the speed.

Upshot:  To accelerate or decelerate at constant power, the slower you are going, the heavier your foot should be.  The faster your are going, the lighter your foot should be.  For the gas pedal and the brake pedal.


Ohmic heating:  Why a long, hard acceleration trashes your battery reserve.

Anyone who drives a PHEV — with a relatively small battery — will eventually notice that one long, hard acceleration will consume a big chunk of your battery capacity.  On a drive where you might lose one percent of battery charge every few minutes, you can knock several percent off in ten seconds if you floor it.

Another way to say that is that getting from A to B by flooring it, then coasting, consumes much more electricity than just gradually getting the car up to speed.

I’m not exactly sure why that is.  But I am sure that it is universally attributed to I-squared-R or ohmic heating losses in the motors, batteries, and cables.

Any time you pass electric current through a wire or other substance, it heats it up.  From the standpoint of moving your car, that heating is a loss of efficiency.  The more current you pass, the more it heats up the wire.  And that heating is non-linear.  Watts of heat loss are proportional to I-squared-R, in the argot.  They go up with the square of the current that you pass through that wire.

Again, I’m not completely sure here, but my takeaway is that your heating losses, at very high power, are hugely disproportionate to your losses at low power.  At constant voltage, I believe those losses increase with the square of the power being produced by the electric motors.  In other words, ten times the power produced to move the car creates 100 times the ohmic heating losses.

And that’s how ten seconds of pedal-to-the-metal can use up as much electricity as 10 minutes of moderate driving.

That said, I have to admit that I’m relying on “what everybody says” for this.  For sure, hard acceleration seems to trash your battery capacity far in excess of the distance that you travel at that rate of acceleration.   Whether the root cause for that is I-squared-R losses, or something else about the car, I couldn’t say.

Either way, my takeaway is that if losses are proportional to the square of power consumed or generated, then to accomplish any given task (any fixed acceleration or deceleration episode), your aim should be to do that at constant power.  Because that’s what will minimize the overall energy loss from that acceleration or deceleration episode.


Drive like you are pressing on an egg — that was a real thing.  EV drivers should chuck the egg.

Source:  Duke University Libraries, via Internet Archive.

Those of us who grew up during the 1970s Energy Crisis will probably recall public service announcements that asked you to drive as if there were a raw egg between your foot and the gas pedal.  I managed to find a Texaco ad of roughly that era, laying out that egg-on-gas-pedal meme.  The picture above is from that video.

As kids, that was pretty much beaten into us.  Responsible driving means no jackrabbit starts, no tire-smoking stops.  Easy does it.  We’re in the middle of a prolonged gasoline shortage, after all.

So now I come to the part that is absolute heresy for someone of my generation.  If you’ve absorbed the prior two sections, you realize that this advice probably isn’t correct for an EV.  Why?  To consume power at a constant rate over the course of an acceleration, you should start off with a brisk rate of acceleration, then diminish that as the car speeds up.

In other words, if you drive an EV, drive with a lead foot.  Not all the time.  But at the start of every acceleration.  And the end of every deceleration.

If you drive an EV, chuck the egg.


The Prius Prime Eco display

Source:  Underlying picture is from Priuschat.

With that understanding in hand, I’m finally starting to make some sense of the “eco” display on my wife’s Prius Prime.

In theory, this little gauge is giving you guidance on how to drive the car most efficiently.  In practice, I could never make head or tail out of it, except that it seemed to be telling me to drive with a lead foot.

Which, I now understand, it was.

On this display, if you put your foot on the gas, it will show you your actual throttle (gas pedal) position, and the gas pedal position that will, in theory, give you greatest efficiency.

By contrast, when you put your foot on the brake, it doesn’t show you the brake pedal position.  Near as I can tell, it shows you the amount of power than you are generating.  That is, a constant brake pedal position will lead to a shrinking bar, as the car slows down and less energy is generated.

Watch what happens if I try to accelerate gently:

It’s possible that all the meter is actually telling me is that a very lightly-loaded electric motor will operate inefficiently.  I don’t think the Prius eco monitor is actually trying to get me to drive at constant power.

Edit 3/11/2024:  After driving around with a ScanGauge III, my conclusion is that accelerating at constant power is exactly what the eco-meter is trying to get you to do.  It wants you to start off with a heavy foot, and then, as you accelerate, it wants you to back off.  Near as I can tell, that bar is set up to keep you at around 23 HP of power output, or 50 amps of discharge current, or a “2 C” rate of discharge, for this battery.

In particular, my diagram above is labeled wrong. The two red arrows should be labeled “desired power output” and “actual power output”.  You will notice that if you don’t move the gas pedal, the “actual power output” line will creep up as you speed up.  The only way to keep that line in the same place is to back off the gas as your speed increases.  So that line isn’t the throttle position, it’s the power output (power = force x speed).

But no matter how I arrive at it — from theory, or from finally paying full attention to the Prius eco meter — the whole drive-like-there’s-an-egg-between-foot-and-gas-pedal is clearly obsolete.  Gentle acceleration may get you your best mileage in a gas-powered vehicle.  But it’s not the correct way to drive an EV.

Post #1613: How the Prius does its thing.

 

Introduction:  The U.S. market for gas-powered cars in 2005.

Source:  Analysis of US EPA gas mileage and vehicle specification data, 2005 model year.

Back in 2005, my wife needed a car.  And by that I mean, we were interested in a gasoline-powered passenger car.  Not a truck, crossover, van, SUV or the like.   And not a diesel.   We’d done that, and didn’t much like the drawbacks of the diesels of that era. A passenger sedan, in the parlance of the era.  Fueled by gasoline.

I was interested in buying something that was efficient.  But the raw MPG numbers were a jumble, driven largely by the size of the vehicle.  I didn’t really want to try to squeeze into some tiny econobox just because it got better mileage than a bigger car.  I was interested in identifying something that was efficient at converting gasoline into movement of passengers and luggage.  Not just the tiniest car I could fit into.

I took data from the EPA and calculated fuel efficiency in a way that put large and small cars on more-or-less equal footing.  Instead of looking at miles per gallon, I calculated cubic-foot-miles per gallon.  Where “cubic foot” is combined interior passenger and luggage room, measured in cubic feet.  Under this approach, a car that was twice as big, but got half the gas mileage, would count the same as a car that was half as big, but got twice the gas mileage.  They both used the same amount of gas to move a given volume of passengers and luggage.

My “cubic-foot-miles per gallon” for passenger cars is similar to the concept of ton-miles per gallon for freight vehicles.  For the simple reason that miles-per-gallon doesn’t tell you how much you were able to haul.  Trains, after all, burn a lot of diesel fuel per mile.  But they also move a lot of tonnage with that fuel.  In some sense, what matters isn’t the amount of fuel burned, it’s the usable carrying capacity that the fuel consumption provides.

The idea was to make this a two-step process.  First, I would separate out the vehicles that were efficient, regardless of size.  Then, from the lineup of vehicles that rose to the top of that listing, we could try to make an informed choice about what size of car we wanted to buy.  Given the choice of efficient vehicles on the market at that time.

Things did not quite turn out as planned.  I figured I’d get a “spectrum” of efficiencies, with a few dozen cars to choose from at the high end of the spectrum.

When I did that calculation– and so removed the variation that was driven merely by the size of the car — the data resolved into the amazingly simple picture, shown above.  For gasoline passenger cars, the 2005 American market consisted of three pieces:

  • The Prius
  • The Honda Civic Hybrid
  • Everything else.

The real eye-opener, to me, was the extent to which “everything else” was just that.   Basically, all non-hybrid cars were roughly equally inefficient.(!)  Sure, you had some muscle cars come in at the bottom of the heap.  But the point is that there wasn’t some nice, smooth distribution of cars in terms of their efficiency.  There was crowded mass of vehicles with little to distinguish one from another.  There was the Honda Civic Hybrid, poking up above that mass.  And there was the Prius, running about three times as efficiently as the average. 

The upshot is that if you wanted an efficient gas car in 2005, the decision was a no-brainer.   You bought a Prius.  The only other gas car that came close to it was the Honda Civic Hybrid, and that was just a bit too small for me.

The best way I know of to illustrate how different the Prius was from other offerings at the time is to ask this simple question:  In the 2005 car market, what was the most efficient gas-powered vehicle capable of moving six people?  The answer?  Two Priuses.  Every six-passenger sedan, van, or SUV got less than half the gas mileage of the Prius.  It was that far ahead of its time.

(As a footnote, I never put pickups, vans, or other special purpose vehicles (SUVs, etc.) on this graph because I couldn’t get the interior volume information.  The EPA showed the MPG for those vehicles, but in 2005, the EPA only tracked interior volumes of passenger cars.  And, as it turns out, that’s still the case.  They only note the interior volume of traditional passenger cars.)


Redo:  The U.S. market for gas-powered cars in 2022.

Now fast-forward to the 2022 model year, and ask the same question.  If you were interested in buying an efficient gas-powered car, what would your options be?  (I use 2022, not 2023, because the 2023 model year data from the U.S. EPA are not yet complete).

First, you have to acknowledge how much the market has changed.

In 2005, there were no electric vehicles (EVs) or plug-in hybrid electric vehicles (PHEVs).  For passenger cars, 99% of the offerings were straight-up gas vehicles.  There were a couple of hybrids, and a couple of diesels.  Roughly speaking, 99% of the models offered were standard gas cars.

In 2022, here’s how the U.S. passenger car market shaped up.  (Recall, this is just cars, not pickups, vans, SUVs, and the like.)  In 2022, three-quarters of the offerings are still standard gas vehicles.  But more than one-quarter are  alternatives — hybrids, plug-in hybrids, or EVs.

Now let me ask the gas-car-efficiency question, for 2022.  I’m ignoring EVs, and for the PHEVs, I’m using just their gas-only mileage.  How do gas-powered cars shape up, in terms of my efficiency measure (cubic-foot-miles per gallon)?

 Source:  Analysis of US EPA gas mileage and vehicle specification data, 2022 model year.

Unlike 2005, the Prius now has quite a bit of company.  The 2022 Prius is slightly more efficient than the 2005 model, but now there are a couple of gas-powered cars that top it, and many that are nearly as efficient.

Unsurprisingly, everything at the top of the efficiency charts, for gas-powered cars, is a hybrid of some sort.  The entire cluster of gas sedans at the top consists of hybrids and PHEVs (where only the gas portion of the PHEV mileage has been counted.)

For the record, the two Prius-beaters on that graph are the Hyundai Ioniq and Ioniq Blue.  For reasons that must make sense to Hyundai, those are no longer being made as gas hybrid versions.   Hyundai discontinued those cars as of June 2022 (reference).

So, by the time we get to the 2024 model year, the Prius will be back at the top of the heap.  As it should be.  But now, at least, it has some close company.

Finally, I have to emphasize that this was for gas-powered vehicles.  On paper at least, there are many fully-electric (EV) and partially-electric (PHEV) cars that get MPG-equivalents in excess of the 54 MPG for the Prius Eco (highlighted in the chart above).  But here, I wanted to look at gas-powered cars, for comparison to my 2005 analysis. And I don’t want to get into what those MPGe numbers actually mean.  It’s not straightfoward.


How does the Prius achieve such efficiency?

You see a lot of bad information about how the Prius achieves its high efficiency, for a gas-powered car.  Some is just plain confused, some gets the orders-of-magnitude wrong.  Some explanations appear to violate basic physics, such as the law of conservation of energy.

To be clear, Toyota did optimize many aspects of the operation of that car.  If you look at a list of where energy gets dissipated in a typical car, the Prius addresses every area.

Source:  Energy.gov

Take wind resistance, for example.  Once you actually manage to get energy to the wheels of the car (Power to wheels line, above), about half of that energy gets dissipated as wind resistance.  If you want decent mileage, you need to keep that to a minimum.  The Prius has a “coefficient of drag” of 0.24, among the best ever measured for a mainstream U.S. passenger car (see the extensive list in Wikipedia.) By contrast, your basic brick-on-wheels design  — a Jeep Wrangler — has a coefficient of drag of about 0.45.  What people perceived in 2005 as the somewhat odd shape of the Prius was all about providing interior volume while minimizing air resistance.

There are other minor contributors.  The Prius comes with low-rolling-resistance tires.  It minimizes losses from braking by using regenerative (electrical) braking where possible.  It reduced the parasitic losses from (e.g.) air conditioning by employing a more efficient compressor design.  And so on.

But as you can see from the chart above, most of the energy wasted by a standard gas car is wasted by the engine.  As I understand it, the single largest driver of Prius efficiency — and the reason it had to be made as a hybrid in the first place — is that it uses a different type of gasoline engine.  It’s an Atkinson-cycle (or maybe Miller-cycle) engine, instead of a standard car Otto-cycle engine.

Why do I think the use of an Atkinson engine is key?  Well, here’s a list of the top 20 most-efficient gas cars offered in the U.S. in 2022, listing their specs and the type of engine they use.

Notice anything?

What was unique to the Prius in 2005 is now the standard way to achieve good fuel efficiency in a gas-powered car.  But, as explained below, in most cases, you have to add some secondary propulsion (electric motors) to get adequate on-road acceleration.

Here’s the explanation in brief.

The chemistry of gasoline dictates that you need a fairly “rich” gas-air mixture in an internal combustion engine.  If you make the mix too lean — too little gasoline relative to the air — the spark plug can’t ignite it and/or it burns poorly and/or it generates a lot of nitrous oxides.  To get reliable ignition and a clean burn, you more-or-less need to mix gas and oxygen in the ratio needed for complete combustion of the gas.  Too little gas in the mix and the engine stumbles and dies, or runs dirty.

But if you fill the engine cylinder with that relatively rich gas mix, you end up with more chemical energy in that cylinder than you can use.  Sure, you can compress it and ignite it.  But there’s so much energy that you’ve still got quite a bit of usable gas pressure left when the piston gets to the bottom of the cylinder.  (The number I see cited most often is that, under load, the gas pressure in the cylinder is still at five atmospheres when the piston hits the bottom of its range of motion.)  At that point — once the piston bottoms out — all you can do is open the exhaust valves and let all that potentially usable energy — that still-usable gas pressure — escape out the exhaust.

And that’s exactly what a standard Otto-cycle car engine does.  The intake stroke and power stroke are the same length, the valves open and close within a few degrees of the piston being at bottom dead center/top dead center.  At the end of each power stroke, there’s plenty of pressure left in the gas inside the cylinder.  And with each cycle, that energy gets tossed out the exhaust port.

This has been known for decades, i.e., that gas engines would run more efficiently if you could put a much leaner mixture into the cylinder.  The problem was getting that leaner mix to ignite and burn well.  Back in the 1970s, Honda tried to address this with its stratified-charge engine (reference).  That used two carburetors — one rich, one lean — and two intake valves.  It filled the top of the cylinder with a richer mixture that the spark plug could ignite.  And the rest of the cylinder with a leaner mixture that would itself be ignited by the rich mix at the top.  It was moderately successful, and I recall that the Honda CVCC with that engine was among the most fuel-efficient cars of its generation.

A better way to put less gasoline into the cylinder, and yet have it burn well, is to fill only part of the cylinder on the intake stroke.  Where I need to define “the cylinder” as the full length of the resulting power stroke.  That way, the air-to-fuel mix is correct for consistent ignition and clean burn.  You simply have less total fuel in the cylinder before you ignite it.

And that’s exactly what the modern Atkinson (or Miller) cycle engine does.  And it does that by closing the intake valve well after the piston hits bottom dead center.  This allows the piston to push out maybe 30% of the total air-fuel mix, then compress and explode what’s left.  As a result, you get both the right chemistry (the right air-to-fuel ratio) and the right amount of fuel to allow the resulting energy to be used efficiently.

In the Prius engine, more-or-less, the intake valve closes when the piston is 30% of the way up the bore.  (The engine has variable valve timing, so, well, that varies).  That works out to be, in effect, about a 10.5:1 compression ratio, and a 13.5:1 expansion (power stroke) ratio.

And so, while the standard Otto-cycle engine has nearly-identical compression and expansion (power stroke) ratios, the Atkinson-cycle engine has a much lower compression ratio, compared to its expansion (power stroke) ratio.  The whole point of which is to allow you to put the right fuel-air mix into the cylinder, just less of it.

But this comes at a cost.  With less fuel, and a longer expansion stroke, there’s less power with each power stroke.  And part of that power stroke now occurs at pressures much lower than you would get in an Otto-cycle engine.

As a result, the Atkinson engine is efficient, but it has a relatively poor power-to-weight ratio.  In the case of the Prius, the older 1.6 liter engine might have produced maybe 140 horsepower configured as run as a standard Otto-cycle engine.  But as an Atkinson-cycle engine, I think it barely broke 90 horsepower.

The result would have been a car with unacceptable on-road performance.  (Yeah, even for Prius drivers.)  So, the engineers at Toyota (and Ford) added electric motors, a big battery to run the motors, and so on.  And the hybrid was born.

To be clear, the electrical side of the modern hybrid is more-or-less a necessary evil.  It was something tacked on after the fact, to allow the engineers to replace the inefficient Otto-cycle engine with a more efficient, but less powerful, Atkinson-cycle engine.

So, now you know the primary source of Prius efficiency.  And you know why the 20 most efficient gas-powered cars offered in the U.S. all use Atkinson-cycle engines.

 

Post #1589: Correction to Post 1586

 

A local who has the Tea Party plates on his car took exception to my blanket statement that those plates mark environmentally insensitive individuals.  My claim that I’d never seen cars with (e.g.) greater than 30 MPG EPA rating, with Tea Party plates, is now wrong, courtesy of three outliers that he photographed and emailed to me.  I haven’t bothered to check the EPA ratings, but these at least aren’t low MPG trucks.

The gist of that prior posting still stands.  But as a matter of fact, there are some vehicles with Virginia Tea Party plates that do, probably, get over 30 MPG.  Contrary to what I said in that posting.  I don’t think that’s the norm, but mea culpa.

Still seeking a photo of that rarest of beasts, the Tea Party Prius.

As to why I call them the Tea Party plates, well, that’s what they are.

https://vatp.org/2010/11/13/va-tea-party-plates/

Three photos courtesy of an email correspondent:

Just to be clear — because I didn’t blur the plates or anything — it’s legal to photograph anything you can see from a public right-of-way.  At least here in Virginia.  Commercial use of such an image may fall under some different set of statutes.   But posting such an image with no claim to copyright and no intent to harass is fair use here in the Commonwealth.

Post G22-056, electric car math

 

You have no doubt read that “California is going to ban gas-powered cars”, starting a dozen years from now.

Which they actually are not, if you bother to read the details.  But that’s for another post.

This announcement out of California has been followed by the usual internet crap-storm of misinformation, disinformation, and ignorant opinion.

Of course nobody bothers to look up the facts first.

Or, God forbid, do a little math.

Let’s start with the math.  To answer the following question:


How many roads must a man drive down, before he crashes the grid?

If we magically converted all the passenger vehicles in the U.S. to electricity, today, roughly how much more electricity would we need to generate?

The answer requires just three bits of information.

  • How many miles do we drive now?
  • How much electricity do we generate now?
  • How far can you travel on one one kilowatt-hour of electricity?

Source:  Federal Highway Administration June 2022 Traffic Volume Trends report.

Point 1:  Americans drive about 3 trillion miles per year. This is vehicle miles, so it includes everything from passenger cars to 18-wheelers.  If you break it down further, you’ll find that 90 percent of that is light-duty vehicles, which corresponds roughly to passenger vehicles of all types, everything from cars to light (two-axle) trucks.  (Calculated from this source:  FHWA, Bureau of Transportation Statistics.)  In round numbers, then, the U.S. passenger vehicle fleet travels 3 trillion miles per year.

Source:  US Energy Information Administration.

Point 2:  America produces about 4 trillion kilowatt-hours of electricity a year.  (Plus a little rounding error for rooftop solar.)  Note that the share of carbon-free and carbon-light generation  (i.e., anything-but-coal) has mushroomed in the past decade.  This is why the carbon footprint of electrical generation in the U.S. has shrunk so much.  And that is why there’s the big push for electrical transportation.

In case you missed it, this started with the Obama-era Clean Power Plan.  Which, of course, the subsequent Republican President undid.  But at this point, market forces are the main driver behind this, with environmental concerns merely a nice fringe benefit. We’re going to get Obama’s clean grid whether we like it or not.

Source:  Electrek.co.

Point 3:  The average EV sold today gets about 3 miles per kilowatt-hour.  That’s based on citations from several non-official sources (like this one), and appears to be a sales-weighted average.

Source:  Fueleconomy.gov, 2022 model year, all cars that use electricity.

That average is interesting, given that the best of the best EVs have an EPA rating of 4 miles per KWH.  (My wife’s Prius Prime gets that, per the EPA, but we get well over five driving around town).  Even the godawful Hummer EV pictured above gets almost 2 miles per KWH.

This is, after all, America.  When it comes to cars, nothing exceeds like excess.  But compared to gas cars, the inherent efficiency of the electric platform seems to limit the amount of natural resources that you can squander hauling around tons of steel.  It compresses the roughly 5-to-1 efficiency difference across various gas vehicles down to a far more modest 2-to-1 difference.  Per the EPA, if you Hummer-size your EV, you only get to burn twice as much fuel as a Prius. 

So nyah.


Do the math and have a little common sense.

If we instantaneously converted the entire US passenger vehicle fleet to EVs, we’d need another trillion kilowatt-hours of electricity, or roughly 25% more than we produce now.

That’s not rocket science.  To travel our 3 trillion annual miles, at 3 miles per KWH, we’d need 1 trillion KWH.  We make 4 trillion KWH now.  So, we’d need to produce 25% more electricity.

Common sense part 1.  We’re going to have decades to get that done, because electrification of the U.S. passenger fleet will proceed at a snail’s pace.  The U.S. has about 250 million passenger vehicles (Source:  FHWA, Bureau of Transportation Statistics, all light-duty vehicles).  Each year, we buy around 17 million new vehicles per year (Source:  Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis FRED system).

Even if every new passenger vehicle sold in the U.S. was an EV, it would take the better part of a decade to replace the existing stock of 250 million vehicles with EVs.  But back here in the real world, we just crossed point where 5% of current new-car sales are EVs.  Based on the experience of other countries who have electrified their passenger fleets, that figure is expected to reach 25% in 2025.  Beyond that, it’s hard to say what would happen next, because so few countries have exceeded that fraction.  (Source for all that information is Bloomberg).

When you run all that through a grinder, you’d have to guess that we have at least three decades to add that new electrical generation, probably more.  So we’d have to increase electrical generation by less than 1 percent per year, beyond the existing growth rate, to handle any remotely plausible increase in EV use in the U.S.A. That hardly strikes me as infeasible.


But wait, there’s more.

Probably the biggest joker in the deck here is night-time charging.

If we fully electrified all the existing passenger vehicle miles in the U.S., we’d need to produce 25% more electricity.  But that’s doesn’t mean 25% more generation capacity.  And that doesn’t mean 25% increase in the grid’s ability to delivery electricity.

How much new capacity we’d need would depend on the extent to which we can convince people to charge at night.  And, secondarily, the extend to which our electricity is generated by solar-with-no-storage (which is off-line at night by definition.)

Focus on the July peaks (in yellow) in the diagram above.  That’s how much electricity our existing system is capable of producing and delivering.

Any time we’re below those peaks, there’s spare capacity somewhere.  (Ignoring the issue of solar as a fraction of all generation.)  It may be relatively expensive to produce at those peaks, but it’s clearly feasible.  We do it every year.

And, as you can plainly see, any time other than summer, U.S. electrical demand is well below those peaks.  And in the summer, nighttime demand is well below those peaks.

The fact is, all we’d have to do is convince/require all/most EV users to charge at night, during the summer.  (Ideally, to charge at night all the time).  If that could be achieved, the additional electrical generating and delivery capacity would be minimal.

This isn’t a new idea.  The benefits of charging EVs at night has been around about as long as modern EVs have been.  It’s just that all the nay-sayers conveniently overlook it.

More to the point, all modern EVs come with the capability to schedule the charging time.  You can plug it in at any time, but you can tell it to charge only in the middle of the night.  So the opportunity for nighttime charging is a standard feature.  All we need is the common sense to put in a system that either enforces or strongly incentivizes it.

But but but …

But won’t EVs use up all the fuel we need to make electricity?  Comfort yourself with this thought:  The U.S. has about a century’s worth of natural gas, as “technically recoverable reserves”, given the current use rate (Source:  US EIA).

But won’t solar be so big a share of generation that nighttime charging is infeasible?  I don’t think we’re going to have to sweat that.  At present, solar accounts for about 0.1 trillion kilowatt-hours of electrical generation in the U.S. (Source:  US EIA).  Restated, solar accounts for about 2.5% of all the KWH produced in the U.S.  This probably will be an issue in sun belt states with high installed solar capacity.  It’s not really an issue for the U.S. as a whole.


Conclusion

Sure, parts of the grid may crash some time in the near future.  Think Texas in wintertime.

But that ain’t going to be due to EVs.  Not now, while EV charging is a drop in the bucket.  Not in the next decade, for sure, ditto.  And, if we have even the tiniest amount of common sense, not ever.

There are plenty of reasons to be skeptical of mass conversion to electrical transport.  My greatest concern is that there’s no rational plan for disposing of all those big batteries.  Yet.  (The Feds had one at some point, but I haven’t seen anything about that in years.  Maybe that’s quietly proceeding.  Maybe that died with the Clean Power Plan.)  Plus, we need consumer acceptance.  And infrastructure for on-the-road charging.  And charging opportunities for other-than-single-family-home dwellings.  And, with the currently dominant battery chemistries, we’ll need metric craploads of exotic materials.

And so on.

Plenty of things to worry about.  But crashing the grid isn’t one of them.