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Inspired by the Marx Brothers

~ Ken Mirvis ~ Leave a comment

I am not one of those people who can recite great comedy routines from memory. I do not know every bit of Monty Python’s hilarity. I almost never reference comics. But I do love good humor, especially when it perfectly captures reality.

In the email introducing my last entry, I gave a shout-out to Tom Papa’s “Well, I have” schtick. Now we have two in a row! For my money, the Marx Brothers were the funniest siblings ever on earth!

In Animal Crackers, Groucho plays Captain Spalding, the bumbling African explorer who once tried to shoot an elephant in his pajamas. (“Of course, in Alabama, the Tuscaloosa.”) Chico plays Emanuel Ravelli, a huckster musician who shows up to play at a fete hosted by the socialite Mrs. Rittenhouse (Margaret Dumont) one day before he was due.

The dialogue goes like this:

Mrs. Rittenhouse: You are one of the musicians? But you were not due until tomorrow.

Ravelli: Couldn’t come tomorrow. That’s too quick.

Captain Spalding: You’re lucky they didn’t come yesterday.

Ravelli: We were busy yesterday, but we charge just the same.

Captain Spalding: This is better than exploring! What do you fellows get an hour?

Ravelli: For playing, we get $10 an hour.

Captain Spalding: I see. What do you get for not playing?

Ravelli: $12 an hour.

Captain Spalding: Clip me off a piece of that.

Ravelli: Now, for rehearsing, we make a special rate. Thatsa $15 an hour.

Captain Spalding: That’s for rehearsing?

Ravelli: Thatsa for rehearsing.

Captain Spalding: And what do you get for not rehearsing?

Ravelli: You couldn’t afford it. You see, if we don’t rehearse, we don’t play, and if we don’t play, that runs into money.

That has been one of my favorite comedy routines for about sixty years. Thanks to this EV adventure, I finally understand the logic, and it is brilliant!

We stopped at a charger the other day owned by the City of Kearney, Nebraska. I plugged in, went through the App/Apple Pay abracadabra, and then sat back to grab a few quick kilowatts. The text message from the charger that came to my phone went something like this: The time you spend charging will cost $0.00 per hour. Once you are fully charged, the time you stay hooked up will cost $3.00 per hour.

There it is! The Marx Brothers in real life: For charging, you pay little to nothing. But for not charging … you can’t afford it! (BTW, I did pay for the electricity, but at a very reasonable rate.)

One of my biggest fears on this EV-charging adventure is that we will arrive at a charger. Some inconsiderate SOB will have a car hooked up and fully charged, but I cannot get to the charger. High “idle-time fees” are the answer. Charge a minimal break-even amount for the charging itself, and then break the bank for bogarting the charger once its work is done.

I expect we have a new Marx-Brothers-inspired business model here: provide an essential product for free and charge exorbitant rates for not using it. I am smelling fame and fortune with this one. Anybody interested in investing?

Newbie EV Learning Moments

~ Ken Mirvis ~ 2 Comments

Within a week of taking possession of “Mo,” our Nissan Ariya EV, we took a family trip to New York City, driving to Albany and catching an Amtrak into the City. We figured we’d have plenty of time upon our return to Albany to find a charger, figure out how to work it, charge up, and get home. We were mostly right.

We started at the closest charging station. It was in a public parking garage that charged a $20 flat rate for some event that evening. In addition to the charging rates, we’d have to pay the extra $20 just to spend a few minutes at the charger. I am way too cheap to fall for that one. The next option was a few miles away, so we plugged the address into the GPS and off we went. Everything was as advertised, and the charger worked fine, but it was in a seriously sketchy part of town. We hung close, playing with knobs and buttons trying to figure out more of the inner workings of our new toy.

Once the dashboard showed that we had 100 miles of excess driving capacity to get home, we bolted.

LESSON: When the dashboard says 100 miles, don’t count on.

We had driven south on a flat 2-lane road, toodling along at 55 or 60 on a warm afternoon. “Mo’s” computer calculated the 100-mile margin based on that trip. We drove back north on a cold evening through big mountains on an Interstate … with no chargers nearby. We planted the cruise control at 75 and enjoyed the ride. Then I noticed the 100-mile margin beginning to disappear. Cold weather, high speeds, and mountain roads, we learned, suck a lot more electricity than warm, slow, and flat. By the time we got home, the dashboard was blinking red warning lights at me screaming that we only had 20 miles of battery capacity left.

I guess I’ve experienced plenty of times when the gas station I thought would appear around the next bend never materialized. Fortunately, we made it home safely, and if all goes well, we will not experience that sort of “Oh shit, what are we going to do?” moment again.