THE Chevrolet Volt was born with a long to-do list. Resuscitate General Motors and defy critics of the company’s federal bailout. Demonstrate that G.M. can match Toyota’s green might. Prove that plug-in cars are more than a feel-good exercise.
All told, the Volt was weighed down with so much political and social baggage that I was surprised it could pull away from the curb.
So for me, it felt great to finally jump into the Chevy, ditch the debates and just drive. And you know what? G.M. has nailed it, creating a hatchback that feels peppy and mainstream yet can sip less fuel than any gas- or diesel-powered car sold in America.
The Volt leaves you grinning with its driving-the-future vibe. Yet the car operates so seamlessly that owners need not think about the planetary gear sets, the liquid-cooled electrons and all that digital magic taking place below.
Just don’t forget to unplug it when you back out of the garage.
And plugging it in is what you’ll want to do, as the Volt was designed with an operating strategy entirely different from other hybrids. It is meant to be driven primarily on the energy stored in its battery; the gasoline engine’s contribution to moving the car is largely indirect, by turning a generator that powers the electric motors once the battery has been depleted.
The Volt, which shares its basic structure with the Chevy Cruze, can readily achieve the top end of G.M.’s estimate for all-electric range: driving gently, I managed 50 miles on a full charge. The next morning, unplugging after a four-hour refill from a 240-volt charging dock, I drove like a normal commuter, covering 41 miles to the Detroit Hamtramck plant where the Volt is built.
Once its central display screen registered the last mile of battery power, the Chevy switched into “extended range” mode, divvying motive chores among the remarkably quiet 1.4-liter gas engine upfront, its dual electric motors and the 435-pound, 16 kilowatt-hour lithium-ion battery nestled below the floor.
Having delivered the energy-use equivalent of about 112 miles per gallon in battery mode, the Volt continued to have admirable economy with the gas-driven generator supplying the electricity: 44 m.p.g. over all, whipping the E.P.A.’s estimate of 35 city and 40 highway. With its 9.3-gallon gas capacity — premium fuel required — you can exceed 300 miles per tank, in addition to the initial E.V. miles. That’s the crux of how the Volt maintains everyday practicality while affording owners all-electric motoring on short local trips.
After logging 120 miles (60 electric and 60 in gas-electric mode) the Volt returned the no-fudging equivalent of 64 miles per gallon. That average accounts for the 18 kilowatt-hours of plug-in electricity the Volt consumed — just over a half-gallon’s worth of gasoline using the conversion of about 33 kilowatt-hours of energy per gallon.
Unfortunately, if owners want that accurate accounting of combined mileage, including electricity, they’ll have to do it online through the free five-year OnStar account that comes with the car. That’s because the Volt’s trip computer simply measures the gas you use over the total trip mileage, including the initial E.V. miles. Essentially, the computer pretends that the electricity is free and its miles are on the house.
So while the Volt accurately displayed my gasoline economy in extended-range mode (a healthy 44 m.p.g.) it also showed a too-optimistic 84 m.p.g. total after 120 miles because I had burned only 1.4 gallons of gasoline. But count those kilowatts in the battery, and the real average was 64 m.p.g. (The E.P.A. estimates the Volt’s combined gas-electric economy at 60 m.p.g., and its all-electric operation at the energy equivalent of 93 m.p.g.)
The Volt’s vehicle line director, Tony Posawatz, said that G.M. tried to provide useful interactive mileage data, but not so much that readouts would confuse drivers. Software updates may let owners choose more data-rich displays, including cost-per-mile or the so-called m.p.g.e., which converts electrical consumption into its gasoline equivalent.
Still, give the Volt’s engineers their due: 64 m.p.g. is pretty spectacular. That’s a real-world result, and it’s nearly 30 percent better mileage than a Toyota Prius, previously the nation’s highest-mileage hybrid.
Remember, I managed 64 m.p.g. on a 50-50 split of gas and electric driving. Most owners, I think, will do better, determined to drive most of their miles on battery power.
Early adopters with the means and mind-set to buy a Volt — $41,000 on the window sticker, but $33,500 after subtracting the $7,500 federal tax credit, or $350 a month on G.M.’s sweetheart lease — will plug in faithfully, rarely sullying their Volts with a fuel nozzle.
Yes, the mileage calculations can be baffling. Then, G.M. marketers muddied the water by promoting the Volt as a “purely electric” car, never mind that once its battery is depleted the gas engine will start in order to keep the car moving.
To me, G.M. should shout from the rooftops that the Volt is really a plug-in hybrid; its ability to drive like an electric car when you want it, but coast-to-coast on gasoline should you need, is its huge advantage over short-range, cord-bound E.V.’s like the Nissan Leaf.
As Chevy reminds us incessantly, a Volt owner can travel 40 miles each day and never burn a drop, joule or calorie of gasoline (more, obviously, if you can plug in while at the office or shopping mall). That owner will cover those first 40 miles for about $1.50 worth of electricity on average, a figure that includes electrical losses as the Volt draws some 12.5 kilowatt-hours of juice to refill the battery. The Volt only uses about 65 percent of its battery capacity, one of several strategies aimed at ensuring long battery life. While the batteries are warranted for eight years or 100,000 miles, G.M. says it engineered them to last 150,000 miles.
Covering those same 40 miles would cost $4.80 in gasoline for a typical 25-m.p.g. car, or $2.40 for the Prius driver who managed 50 m.p.g.
Those figures are based on a national average of 12 cents per kilowatt-hour, according to the Energy Department, but electric rates vary wildly by location. Charge your Volt in Connecticut, with its nearly 19-cent average rate, and the Volt’s running costs fall close to those of a Prius or Honda Civic Hybrid, raising skepticism over the Volt’s considerably higher price.
But please, enough with stories that cherry-pick statistics, comparing worst-case Volts against Priuses running downhill on the nation’s cheapest gas. So try this: In California, which endures some of the nation’s highest electric bills, Pacific Gas & Electric plans to charge as little as 5 cents a kilowatt-hour for nighttime E.V. charging. At that rate, you’d spend 60 cents to cover 40 miles in the Chevy. For a Prius to commute on such pocket change, gasoline would have to cost 75 cents a gallon.
If only the styling gave owners more bragging rights. There are two ways to look at the Volt: first, that its middle-America normalness is exactly the point. Or, that Chevy missed an opportunity to brand the Volt with a truly eye-catching design. At least it avoids the green-goblin frumpiness of the Leaf.
Call the Volt quietly handsome, with a pleasingly sporty stance and uncluttered visage — aside from the unfortunate black plastic that underlines the side windows.
There’s a tad more gee-whiz inside. It begins with an iPod-like center stack and dual 7-inch information screens. A navigation system is standard, and there are clever smartphone and OnStar applications to remotely manage charging and check the charge level; owners can also cool or heat the car remotely, using grid electricity rather than draining the battery.
The flush-mounted touch-panel controls look all Logan’s Run, though they sometimes balk at an initial fingertap before responding. Even so, the Volt’s vivid displays — including a little green ball that hovers inside an animated circle — offer welcome feedback on how efficiently you’re driving.
Because the 5.5-foot-long T-shaped battery runs between the seats, there’s no room for a fifth passenger. Legroom is tight in back. The hatch is also a bit smaller than a typical compact’s, though folding the rear seats vastly expands the space.
While the Volt’s cabin is comfortable and whimsically futuristic, materials and fit-and-finish are more akin to its sibling, the Cruze— certainly not the luxury you’d demand in any other car at this price. But that’s a necessary trade-off, considering that each lithium-ion pack costs G.M. an estimated $10,000. You can practically feel that battery sucking money from the interior.
The Volt’s payback is its sophisticated operation. It is not sporty per se, nor is it a limp noodle. The Chevy drives like an especially quiet and trusty family car.
The regenerative brakes feel grabby and nonlinear at first, but you soon get used to braking early and lightly to recapture as much electricity as possible. Drivers can switch the console shift lever into a Low mode that bolsters the energy-scavenging of the brakes. Though special Goodyear tires trade some grip for low-rolling resistance and fuel economy, drivers may be surprised at how confidently the Volt will corner.
The oddest part of driving the Volt? At times, the engine revs don’t rise in sync with a push on the gas pedal, as they would in a conventional car, because the Volt may be drawing power from its battery instead. Then, a few seconds later, the engine speeds up to replenish the battery’s buffer.
Certainly, you could buy a conventional Chevy Cruze for $20,000, get respectable mileage and save thousands. But the Volt isn’t for people looking for the lowest possible price or operating costs — it is designed for those willing to spend extra for new technology that can wean them off gas and cut pollution.
In other words, the Volt is a car that will make fans feel good about driving and about themselves. If that’s not your cup of green tea, don’t buy it. But if the Volt appeals to you, my hunch is that you’re going to love it more than any car you’ve driven in years.
The achievement can’t be overstated. Poised to sell in the tens of thousands, the Volt (and Leaf) are the first cars in a century to make Big Oil sweat, if only a little. More will follow. And in a first for G.M., it’s an economical car that Americans will buy for its cachet, not a cut-rate payment.