The one thing no one tells you when you are suddenly handed an electric car after years of being driven around in gas-powered or hybrid vehicles is that said electric car must be plugged into its little charging station every once in a while. Like a phone. And I forgot this. So my ultra-compact Toyota EV, so new and cutting edge it’s only been introduced to the Japanese market, is out of juice right there in my driveway, parked inches from her charging station.
Saving the planet is great and all, but it is a LOT of work to remember all this stuff.
I now have two choices: Finan’s ginormous truck, or Rupert’s sleek, elegant Tesla.
Like I have to ask myself twice.
I give Humboldt dinner early, lock up, and jog to Rupert’s, letting myself into his cabin long enough to grab his keys and the
