Vaulted into the Future via a 2012 Volt

Disclosure: I was provided a $5 gift card to a local coffee shop for test driving the Volt, the same incentive provided all others who test drove this same Volt during the month of October.

I test drove a 2012 Volt on Wednesday, and I swear the car made me smarter somehow. Thank you, Lichtsinn Motors, for a driving experience I hope to enjoy as an owner one day.

Keeping the Volt’s spinning green-leaf circle centered on its efficiency target became my new way to drive. Part overachiever and part video game competitor, I wanted to drive better, and that happy spinning green ball let me know when I was in the efficiency zone. For most of my time in the Volt, I was. Whether accelerating or decelerating, I felt in sync with the car and proud, even, of the efficient way we glided to our destination together.

Smooth, quiet, comfortable and, yes, capable of impressive speed and power on the freeway, the Volt gave me a glimpse of my future. At least that’s what I said to my husband, Mark. My actual words were: “This is our future. Now, how do we afford it?”

If I had any doubt about the Volt’s futuristic role, the newest driver in our family, our 16-year-old son, Skye, blew it away. He slid into the driver’s seat with a huge smile and a “ha-ha” type of masculine giggle. Taking the steering wheel into his hands, he looked at me with pure delight and declared: “This is the future.”

So it is.

And I like this version of the future. Very much so.

From the Jetson-like sounds of the “power on” function to the near whisper of the motor, I took in the multi-sensory experience of the Volt as much as possible. I drove it on quick errands around town and then rode as a passenger on a date with my husband. City driving, highway driving – regardless of circumstance – the Volt felt more like a companion on a mission than a mode of transportation. We had places to go and a way to get there more efficiently than we ever had before. Our family's biggest hold up: Our oldest son, Stross, uses a wheelchair, and this hybrid vehicle simply isn't large enough for us.

What – specifically – I liked:

• Green Leaf Circle – I have already gushed about that. Need I say more? Be assured it wasn’t a distraction. Its location by the speedometer made it as easy to keep track of as my speed.
• Power Flow and Efficiency Screens – I absolutely loved keeping track of whether I was using battery power or engine power or if the regen battery power was at work. And between stops, I regularly checked to see my efficiency ratings and mpg, amazed at how little fuel I was consuming. I would love finding out if the novelty of this ever wears off. I hope not.
• Speed – Both Mark and I were pleasantly surprised at the Volt’s speed and power. And we both had to remind ourselves to keep checking our speed. Because the Volt runs so quietly, it’s easy to accelerate past the speed limit without hearing that you have asked the engine to go faster. Gliding. That’s what I kept thinking. I am gliding more than driving. As I said earlier, I felt at one with the car.
• Braking – Not sure what I expected about the feel of the braking system, but I liked it. Gentle to the touch when decelerating with just the right amount of tension when I needed a fast response; and, when I needed my brakes to avoid a driver who was turning through an intersection on a red light, I got them. Confidently so.
• Seating (front) – Mark and I both enjoyed the comfortable bucket seating and legroom of the passenger and driver front seats. I would describe it as a nice mix of sports car and sedan styling.
• XM Satellite Radio – I am a news junkie, so having CNN inside the car was a treat. Same for the MLB Network. We were able to catch the last innings of the first game of the World Series on our way home last night. (Congratulations, Cardinals!) Our sons had their own favorite channels, of course. (And, no, they were not on our date.)
• Keyless entry – I really enjoyed being able to walk away from the car and then approach it again - locking and unlocking with the mere push of a button. As long as the key fob was as near as my purse or pocket, I was good to go. Who wants to dig keys from the bottom of their purse on a cold day, anyway? Wonderful feature!
• iPad/iPod Compatibility – I was treated to one of my husband’s playlists from his iPad for our date. Nothing helps make a car feel like it belongs to you more quickly than having it play music of your choosing. What a treat.
• Bluetooth – I ran out of time to check out the Bluetooth function but already believe I would like it.

What – specifically – I hope gets improved in 2013:
• Touch Screen Console – I would love to see this become more like an iPad with screens that scrolled with a touch. The buttons on the Driver Information Console already feel outdated despite their clean and aesthetically pleasing design. I got an iPad a few months ago and found myself wanting to scroll to the desired screen rather than remember the exact touch area or button. Touch scrolling would greatly improve the driving experience while reducing potential distractions.
• Headlamps on Dim – The dim setting for the headlamps has a distinct and low sightline horizon. At night I kept feeling like I needed to duck my head lower to see farther. I also found myself looking forward to opportunities to return the lamps to bright.
• Seating (back) – More room is needed for back seat passengers somehow. Mark, at 6’ 2”, had a claustrophobic moment. His head had to be positioned inside the rear window bay, and his legs soon felt cramped. He tolerated a drive around the block, but after few minutes in park, he was very ready to get out, and – unfortunately for him – I had yet to learn how to override the child safety locks. Rather than searching the console, I got out of the parked car and ran to free him. I can’t imagine him willingly sitting there again anytime soon. My 5’ 11” teen tolerated the back a bit better, but only because he wasn’t claustrophobic, merely cramped.
• GPS – The system was easy to use but when I headed out on well-traveled back roads, it didn’t know where I was. This issue is common with GPS, yet I dream of a day when updates occur automatically. Wouldn’t that be great?


Chevy Runs Deep
Chevy runs deep in our family. The car my dad learned to drive first was a beautiful black and white ’55 Chevy that his parents bought new. It was the car he and my mother used to bring me home from the hospital. My husband learned to drive in a ’78 El Camino his father purchased with only a few hundred miles on it. We drove away in that vehicle on our wedding night and now our 16-year-old drives it to school. A 2007 Uplander, now approaching 100,000 miles, is the workhorse for our family. It’s the vehicle best capable of carrying the four of us, our oldest son’s wheelchair and any cargo we might have. If hybrid technology came van-sized, we would aspire to own that vehicle.

A note about the Volt’s accessibility: The carriage height and front door openings on the Volt are wonderful for manual wheelchair transfers. Unfortunately, the only way for the wheelchair to be transported in the vehicle is with both back seats down, and the wheelchair folded in half. Even then, the lift height necessary to put it inside the rear hatch was a bit of a stretch for me – easier for my taller husband. Oddly, the Volt was comparable to our El Camino as a two-seater mode of transportation for Stross as a passenger. And while we – on rare and only in-town occasions – tether his chair in the open bed of the El Camino, the Volt made it possible for the wheelchair to ride enclosed. When we don’t need to take the whole family somewhere, the Volt would make a wonderful second car for our family. If you'd like Stross' positive take on it, just watch the video below. (I find his comment after his ride rather charming - and hopeful.)

During my test drive, I felt vaulted into the future somehow and found myself wishing the automotive industry’s transition to hybrid technology comes as surely as the broadcast industry’s transition to high definition. We are smarter now, capable of driving more efficiently than ever before. I eagerly wait for the day all our family’s vehicles are primarily battery powered. (Well, we will likely still have that ’78 El Camino, as some things are simply too deep to give up.) Until then, let’s start vaulting into the future, allowing cars like the Volt to get us there.

The 2012 Chevy Volt – It’s just a smarter way to drive.
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Thank you, Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs died today. I learned of his death from a friend’s Facebook status as it appeared on the screen of my MacBook Pro. Stunned, I scrolled through status after status, each broadcasting Steve Jobs’ name along with sentiments of gratitude for his life.

Then I reached for my iPad 2, and my CNN app pop-up told me that Steve Jobs had died and asked me if I wanted to learn more. I did, for my future – a future without innovative products that have been born in the mind of Steve Jobs – had arrived. Just to be certain, I typed Apple.com into my browser. When the homepage loaded, I cried.

I cried. About Steve Jobs’ death. But why?

Steve Jobs and Apple, Inc., have been synonymous for me. I trust the products I rely on for work and personal enjoyment because I trust – make that trusted – Steve Jobs. Maybe I trusted Steve Jobs because I had discovered that I could trust the products he envisioned and then brought to life.

In the 90s, when savvy business minds were predicting that the company Jobs’ had co-founded would crumble because he was no longer at the helm, I somehow believed that simply could not happen. I believed he had created a product that – even though it enjoyed a small market share at the time – was the creative lifeblood of industries that millions relied on for entertainment and design pleasure.

Therefore, Apple couldn’t die. The movie industry, the design industry, the advertising industry, even school teachers loved what could happen because of what Apple made possible.

But Jobs, a human and not a company, could die. I knew he had been fighting pancreatic cancer for years and had mentally prepared for his death long ago, soothing myself with thoughts that Apple, Inc., was greater than one person’s life. Even Steve Jobs' life. I had reassured myself that the company (and it is just a company) would survive long after his passing. But I had not calculated how much gratitude I would feel for Steve Jobs – gratitude for all the ways the fruit of his labors have enriched my life.

I have a lot to be grateful for.

- For the 1985 Macintosh computer that arrived in the journalism lab just in time for my senior year of college. I got to step into desktop publishing from a typesetting foundation that matched Jobs’ love of typography.
- For the Apple IIE and the resumes and cover letters I created on it. They led to a job I loved so much it became a career.

- For the Apple PowerMac that powered my fledging freelance career and for the fleet of them that my husband, Mark, turned into a fully integrated multimedia lab for a small college with big dreams.
- For the Apple magic that allowed Mark to build a digital radio station and a digital television station while supporting print, web and photography applications. He had the privilege of living what he loved. Steve Jobs did too.

- For Pixar. "Toy Story" is the first movie my youngest son can remember. It remains his favorite. The Pixar legacy is the cinematic record of his childhood. If I ever doubted that, "Toy Story 3" clearly cemented the fact when I began bawling as Andy left for college.
- For the iPod incentive that coaxed my youngest to sell more magazines than others in his class so he could own one of the first iPods in town. He learned what it felt like to set a goal then enjoy the reward of achieving it. And he taught the rest of us to want an iPod of our own.
- For the MacBookPro that made it possible for me to get an online masters degree.
- For the iPad my son bought with his confirmation money.
- For the iPad 2 (bought with my birthday money) that taught me to hope again because its intuitive interface let me know that I still have a capacity to learn and even apply what I learn within a few clicks.
- For things like iPhoto and iMovie and Flip cameras that allow me to capture the very best moments of our family’s lives and then turn them into gifts for other members of our family.

- Finally, for the iPod Touch and PowerBook that have made it possible for my oldest son, born with intellectual and physical disabilities, to point and click his way into connections with a world that exists outside his limitations. When he learned of your death tonight, he took out his iPod and read about your family. He wanted to know if you were married and had children. He wanted to know who was most sad tonight because you had died.

He gets it.

Steve Jobs. My life is richer because you lived your passion and dared to bring what you were able to envision to life. You anticipated ways to improve people’s lives, and then introduced those ways to us before we even knew we needed them.

I think that is why I cried. While you were alive, I felt reassured that I wouldn’t miss out on incredible ways to encounter my future. Now I won’t know what I am missing because you are no longer here.

Thank you, Steve Jobs. Well done. May you rest in peace.

________
Added: Oct. 6, 2011 - 3:25 (CT)

I just have to add Mark's tribute to Steve Jobs. What a wonderful image. Since this multimedia lab was first built in 1994-95, countless college students have engaged in an enhanced educational experience because of what Steve Jobs helped Apple do for education. They carried that home with them and then, literally, across the world. What a privilege to have been part of it.

Stross Goes to Scout Camp: Day 4 (in a series)

Boy Scout Camp – Day #4
10 p.m., Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The weather brought most of the state rain last night, so I began today checking in with Mark via text: Did you get sleep? His response: Yes, rain was quite soothing. I feel rested … a couple heavy moments, but nothing drastic.

I sure hope they are taking photos and remembering things to share when they get home. I haven’t really had time to learn details about all that Stross (with Mark) has been doing. I know he swam the perimeter of the pool; I know he earned his Totin’ Chip card granting him the right to carry and use wood tools; I know he has been learning to tie some knots; and I know he did something with a canoe, because when I texted Mark yesterday afternoon with a How r u today? I got back a one-word response: canoe. All those things sound so very Boy Scout; therefore, I am certain Stross is deliriously happy.

You see, Stross is a bit like Walter Mitty, the main character of a James Thurber story who escapes his dull-drum life by living amazing fantasies through his imagination. The difference with Stross is that he takes on a fantasy life that might be within his reach, if only. Or he lives in a fantasy life long enough to find parallels to his own. Fortunately for him, he experienced high school in the era of High School Musical. It is how he looked forward to and navigated things like prom. Then, whenever there actually was a musical being performed in high school, Stross tracked down a recording of whatever had been selected that year – Wizard of Oz, Oliver, Les Miserables, and Oklahoma – and then watched or listened to it over and over and over. By opening night, he knew nearly every lyric of every song and likely enjoyed performing on stage as a member of the chorus more than any other student in the cast.

Boy Scout Camp is proving to be no different. In the weeks – actually months – prior to camp, Stross began re-watching all the Disney movies about camp plus a few others. In fact, in the week just prior to camp, having exhausted all others, he watched Troop Beverly Hills (1989) starring Shelly Long multiple times. Somehow sensing that might not be regarded as something “cool” for a 19-year-old male to do, he watched it secretly using only his iPod. But I knew. And Mark knew. And Skye knew. We all know Stross pretty well.

I am thrilled that Stross is living his own cinema spectacular this week, but I wonder how close to his fantasy the week is turning out to be.

I am also grateful that this week has afforded me some Skye time. He has forever grown up in the muted darkness of Stross’ long and sometimes oppressive shadow. I could write a great deal about that. But not today.

Today, I’ll write that Skye and I walked downtown for a pancake breakfast at a local diner, something he usually does with Mark. And we truly enjoyed our time together. Makes me wish I hadn’t pulled away from our walk home to accomplish an errand. That side-trip resulted in an impromptu meeting. (Well, impromptu on my part. I am pretty sure the person who asked to talk with me had an agenda in mind.) That piece of spontaneity has pretty much ruined the balance of my day. Just when I was coming to a sense of peace about Scout camp, and just before Stross' call to tell me about the 5-mile hike he took today.

Me: “Wonderful, did you use the Gator or your wheelchair?”
Stross: “I walked.”
Me: Oh ... (thinking … “What?” … I’ll investigate that when he gets home.)

I would have loved to have fully enjoyed the call – to have listened longer to his news about smelling chocolate in the air of Waverly (courtesy of the Nestle/Carnation plant) and his plans for lunch at McDonalds (the reward at the end of his hike which, ironically, might be better for his diet than the lactose-laden fare of camp); for he sounded positively buoyant, even after expending 5-miles worth of energy on an early morning hike.

Unfortunately, his call came in the middle of that caught-me-by-surprise meeting. So I ended up apologizing, taking the call, and then answering, listening and experiencing the emotions of the moment in front of the other person. I had not wanted to taint the purity of the moments I would have with Stross on the phone, but I had not wanted to miss his call, either.

I guess it wasn’t all bad, for Stross’ joy – ever so briefly – offset the angst I was experiencing because of the meeting. The kind of angst that – if plotted on a pleasure continuum – would exist at the polar opposite of the pleasure I heard in Stross’ voice.

And you know what? Stross read my voice as well as I read his. For within minutes I got a text from Mark: Are u ok? Stross said you sounded like you might have been crying.

What an incredible son. What an incredible husband.

My text back: Long story. I’ll call soon to fill you in. Please don’t worry.

Mark might be experiencing a sense of peace today too; I don't want to be what ruins that even at a distance. But physical distance simply cannot dissolve emotional presence, can it? At least not during this week of Boy Scout Camp. At least not in our family.

Two short hours later our doorbell rang. It was a floral delivery person with a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses, burgundy mums, white Stargazer lilies, and some exotic green foliage I had never seen before. It seems there “ain’t no wilderness hike long enough, to keep them from getting to me, Babe!”

I am blessed, indeed.

Now, if the thunderstorms forecast for tonight would only dissipate – along with my lingering, frustrated anger leftover from that meeting today. But that’s not the way life works, is it? Storms thunder, rain pours, lightning strikes, and the best you hope for is a safe place to ride it out.

Just one more text to Mark before I go to bed: Don’t mess with lightning. Get to the van when u c or hear it.

Mark’s response: K, I love u.

I know.

Next: Stross Goes to Scout Camp: Day 5 (in a series)