But for one solitary mullet leaping by in grand fashion, in and out of the temperate waters of what was an otherwise narrow, undisturbed, subtropical coastal canal, “serene” defined the hour. Consciously or unconsciously, I had been rummaging in my head. For what, I don’t know. Spring cleaning the brainpan, I suppose. When, reminiscent of the mullet, electric cars popped into my head.
I’m fairly certain my introduction to electric cars came by way of the mad genius of comic books. I say “cars,” but in reality, it was just one car, owned and operated by Grandma Duck (Elvira Coot), Donald Duck’s grandmother. Red sounds right. Boxy. License plate number “1902.” (The internet confirmed red, periwinkle, green and blue.) Except for its wheels and fenders, Grandma Duck’s car (the red one) brings to mind one of those red, K6, United Kingdom “telephone boxes,” something I’ve always thought would make a great addition to any living room.
From everything I’ve read, Grandma Duck’s car was modeled after one of two cars: the Baker Electric Coup or the 1916 Detroit Electric. Could be it was one or the other at different times. Given the terrain, top speed would have been 14-20 mph. Although, grammatically vivid imagery like “Zoom” and “greased lightening” respectively, used in conjunction with Grandma Duck’s driving, suggested there might have been something other than a 3hp electric motor and a 12 volt, rechargeable, lead-acid battery under her hood. Let me guess: a Leyden jar filled with thunderbolts.
The Baker Motor Vehicle Company advertised their 1910 electric cars as the “Aristocrats of Motordom,” guaranteeing freedom from the “Uncertainties of the Explosive Motor or Steam-Driven Vehicles.” By “Explosive Motor,” BMVC was referring to the “internal” combustion engine, what 97% of vehicles sold today have under their hoods. “Steam-Driven Vehicles,” were another beast altogether. They employ what is known as the “external” combustion engine. Here, kerosene was used to heat water to make steam to drive the two pistons in the car’s motor. At one time, those were your choices: choo-choo steam, put-put gasoline or Grandma Duck’s noble piece of galvanic aristocracy, the electric car. Otherwise, you walked, peddled or rode a horse.
Comic books may have introduced me to the electric car, but it was the amusement park that put me behind the wheel of my first electric-powered vehicle, the “bumper car.” Here was a diversion befitting worship. And I worshiped bumper cars, relished the thought of T-boning my cousins on a Sunday afternoon, thrilled in the sibilant whispers of contractors sweeping along, metal on metal, slurping up electrons, all of us sandwiched between an electrically charged floor and ceiling, enough sparks overhead to suggest a wonderfully catastrophic conclusion. Electrically, it was no different from running a vacuum cleaner; thrill wise, there was no comparison. Bumper cars could be ac or dc.
Whether operating a bumper car, a Stanley Steamer or an electric automobile, the inducement for each wasn’t drawn from Aladdin’s lamp. No, it had to be produced physically or chemically. And in that regard, nothing has changed since the first automobile took to the road in 1885. You might think you’ve reached nirvana in your new electric car, but no, not in this universe. You’ve only resuscitated the “external” combustion engine … had your pizza delivered, so to speak.
I’d like to drive a battery-operated vehicle, ZOOM, ZIP and ZING along without the “uncertainties” of the “explosive motor,” travel around exclusive of distance and carbon emissions. But I know better. And here’s what it boils down to: You can make pizza at home or have it delivered to your door, but either way, someone has to fire up the oven to heat the pizza.
I suppose it’s human nature to worship what we don’t fully understand, frivolity and foolishness powerful motivating forces in our brainpans. But don’t take my word for it; find a peaceful place and rummage around in your own head. Electric cars are not the be-all and end-all of human existence; they’re just fun to toy with.
Donald Melville, Vietnam veteran, engineer, author, regularly contributes topics of interest and welcomes your comments at donaldemelville@gmail.com. Visit Don Melville essays on Facebook.
GUEST APPEARANCE: Resuscitating the 'external' combustion engine
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23.03.2024
But for one solitary mullet leaping by in grand fashion, in and out of the temperate waters of what was an otherwise narrow, undisturbed, subtropical coastal canal, “serene” defined the hour. Consciously or unconsciously, I had been rummaging in my head. For what, I don’t know. Spring cleaning the brainpan, I suppose. When, reminiscent of the mullet, electric cars popped into my head.
I’m fairly certain my introduction to electric cars came by way of the mad genius of comic books. I say “cars,” but in reality, it was just one car, owned and operated by Grandma Duck (Elvira Coot), Donald Duck’s grandmother. Red sounds right. Boxy. License plate number “1902.” (The internet confirmed red, periwinkle, green and blue.) Except for its wheels and fenders, Grandma Duck’s car (the red one) brings to mind one of those red, K6, United Kingdom “telephone boxes,” something I’ve always thought would make a great addition to any living room.
From everything I’ve read, Grandma Duck’s car was modeled after one of two cars: the Baker Electric Coup or the 1916 Detroit........
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