<p>Driven by fear of draconian environmental laws, carmakers are
finally getting serious about electric cars
</p>
<p>By WILLIAM MCWHIRTER/DETROIT--With reporting by Edwin M.
Reingold/Los Angeles and Joseph R. Szczesny/Detroit
</p>
<p> Like the other white-gloved ladies in Detroit at the turn
of the century, Clara Ford preferred to drive a clean and
simple electric machine. Her husband Henry, however, had other
ideas: his bouncy, backfiring, gas-powered Model T soon passed
the gentler cars, leaving them in the dust of the Motor Age.
</p>
<p> Ninety years later, Clara may yet have the last word. At
their own tortoise pace, electric cars are regaining fans,
including a few in powerful places. In an unprecedented
collaboration, Ford, General Motors and Chrysler are working to
develop a new electric battery that would serve the U.S.
industry--driven at least in part by rules in California that
will require carmakers to sell affordable "zero emission"
(translation: electric) vehicles by the end of the decade.
</p>
<p> The collaboration by the Big Three is a watershed in
American technological history. Although electric cars have been
produced by various manufacturers for more than 150 years, they
have been relegated to a handful of diehard loyalists and
tinkerers, who were disparaged by most car builders and buyers
as the nerds of the American road. It was not hard to understand
why. The majority of such vehicles looked like ungainly,
homemade versions of lunar walkers. Nor were they paragons of
power, convenience or economy. After all, few customers would
be drawn to a sale offering such dazzling features as, "Drive
up to 60 m.p.h.! Travel as far as 100 miles without refueling!
Recharge in less than six hours! Pay only $100,000!"
</p>
<p> Those are still the characteristics of virtually all the
world's electric vehicles, which are powered by cumbersome
battery systems. The traditional lead-and-acid batteries require
100 times the weight and 30 times the space of conventional
gasoline tanks to push even the lightest cars a fraction of the
distance--less than 100 miles at 25 m.p.h. Nickel-cadmium
batteries provide 50% more power but at eight times the price
(around $30,000, replaceable every two or three years).
Sodium-sulphur batteries offer three times the energy but run
both hot (at temperatures of 600 degrees F) and volatile. When
exposed to water in crash impacts, they have an unpleasant
tendency to produce a vehicular meltdown.
</p>
<p> Why bother? For years, Detroit's Big Three didn't, despite
public protests to the contrary (former GM chairman Roger Smith
solemnly promised a commercially viable electric car by the
mid-1980s). Even in recent years they have devoted less than 2%
of their research-and-development budgets to electric and other
alternative-fuel vehicles. Admits GM's vice president of
advanced engineering Donald Runkle (although something of an
electric buff himself): "They're kind of funny and hokey with
these strange electric noises, always buzzing, clicking and
humming. There was always this image that they were just slow,
dumpy golf carts."
</p>
<p> It took some draconian legislation to get the wheels
rolling. A California law with a distinctly puritanical streak
mandates that by 1998 2% of each manufacturer's new cars sold
in the state must be emission-free or stiff fines and penalties
will be levied against the makers. Those standards match only
one known product in the world market: the electric car. And
they are just the beginning. Within another five years, the
state's Clean Air Act will require that fully 10% of all new
vehicles must comply--a minimum of some 200,000 cars a year.
Says Bill Sessa, spokesman for the California Air Resources
Board: "We set standards that force the development of
technology. The air will not get cleaner until people start
driving cleaner cars."
</p>
<p> There are powerful factors that may make California's
edict work--and perhaps become a model for the rest of the
U.S. Whenever California speaks, the marketplace is compelled
to listen; the state is the single biggest car market in the
world, accounting for as much as 15% of U.S. sales. There is
also the undeniable fact that Americans, particularly in the
more polluted and congested urban areas, are driving themselves
to death. As much as 80% of all urban smog and a quarter of the
nation's total carbon dioxide are caused by engines burning
fossil fuels.
</p>
<p> Finally, there is the ultimate law of the marketplace.
Even as they protest that electric cars have little commercial
potential, Detroit automakers realize that proving themselves
wrong is the best way to reclaim market share. Says a senior
executive of the Big Three: "The Japanese are our biggest worry.
They are going to do anything absolutely necessary to keep
their golden market." Though Nissan demurs that its own
nickel-cadmium model is not quite ready for prime time, it has
already produced the first advertising slogan of the new
electric age, describing its FEV concept car as "gentle to
people, gentle to society, gentle to Earth."
</p>
<p> Detroit's Big Three have formed an unusual consortium--fueled by federal funds that may reach $100 million annually--to develop an advanced battery, which is the key to building a
truly marketable electric car. Their cooperation has led to
speculation that they may even jointly build some kind of
national supercar, but that would only delay their product
design teams and defy their own fierce competitive traditions.
Ford and Chrysler have already begun delivery of experimental
electric-powered vans, mainly to public utility customers. They
have seen the future, and it doesn't come with a fuel tank.
