Our first EV holiday gave us ‘range anxiety’. But our fears were soon left in the rearview mirror | Paul Daley

I I quickly discovered two important things during a recent three-week trip covering several thousand miles in an electric car. The first is that “range anxiety” is real. The second is that seasoned EV drivers are often there for us newbies.

First, some context. I had always planned to get an electric car at some point, but just before Christmas the gas engine in our 17-year-old used Subaru finally cooked itself after more than 360,000 miles.

Our house has been largely powered by solar panels and batteries for several years; the power company pays us a pittance for all the energy we export to the grid. Most of our trips are in the city. It made sense to get an electric vehicle and charge it at home.

You know what happened next: America and Israel declared war on Iran without an exit plan, the Strait of Hormuz was closed, and the global oil crisis sent gasoline and diesel prices skyrocketing.

Our timing was fortuitous: we hit the road with a full battery just before Easter for our long drive. The highways were noticeably quieter than usual. It was hard not to pay attention to the fuel prices at the truck stops we passed – just as it was impossible not to keep a watchful eye on the digital gauge that measured our car’s range in miles and percentage of battery charge.

We quickly realize that this is somewhat arbitrary when the range indicator indicates 500 km and a 100% battery charge. Rapid acceleration, stopping and starting, air conditioning, vehicle charging, roof racks and trunks can quickly reduce the range by 40 or 50 km, even if you haven’t traveled that far.

But you also learn to adapt acceleration to the topography and that, on the highway, the sweet spot for kilowatt consumption is around 100 km/h.

Did all this make me anxious on this first long trip? Yes. I have a tidy desk. I like certainty. Routine. Planning. Our first planned charging stop was 350km south of Sydney. I was worried. By the time we arrived there, our range had dropped to 125 km.

I was tempted to quit early and reload. But then, like many other anxieties, distance anxiety can only be overcome by looking down on it. So, we continued. The app took us straight to the charger bank. Two of the four were vacant. After some initial hesitation (and a quick phone call to the supplier’s help desk), we put the car on charge.

We walked the dog. We had lunch. Came back 35 minutes later with a full battery. Everything worked. It felt like a small triumph.

We continued to a seaside town in the far south where there were only two former couriers. We went to hook up the next day. We had issues with the lead and the app. A friendly guy who was at the end of his charge helped us out. (By the way, this charger was freezing, but we had a swim and a long walk planned – it was a vacation – so that didn’t matter.)

Our assistant was a pioneer, having bought his electric vehicle six years ago and still finding ways to charge it when Australia was a veritable electric vehicle charging desert.

“Those days,” he said, “were difficult.”

We talked about chargers and apps – the best and the worst. And he asked for our story (EV’s story, that is, which seemed to me to be a bit like talking about dogs at a dog park – you ask a lot of questions and admire other people’s dogs but don’t really learn about their people).

We’ve had many similar interactions at other charging stations – conversations I’m sure will soon be nostalgic, just as articles like this will be fun anthropological expositions. Ever-faster chargers will be deployed to meet the growing rise of electric vehicles, and cars (with more and more used vehicles on the market and prices for new electric vehicles becoming more and more competitive) will become an increasingly prosaic part of daily life.

However, I wonder if the electric car could fundamentally change the way we travel by car. We planned, stopped and closed the highway to recharge in many small towns bypassed by highways. Reload. Wander. Visit a local cafe, pub or craft shop. Feed and walk the dog. Relax. About half an hour was all it took.

More and more places will invariably offer unique charging “experiences” that rival highway pit stops in convenience, with mediocre coffee and fast food and where, let’s face it, you often also have to queue for fuel.

My trip had an off-road air of nostalgic reminiscence – like those “automotive” or “touring” vacations with Mom and Dad in the 1970s, where we stopped to “refuel” and went to an “award-winning” bakery (there are still ones in every small town) for lunch.

It took a little longer than the traditional gas stop on the highway. But it also seemed more thoughtful. Here. Engaging.