A classic American road for classic American cars ….so was it nuts and perhaps a touch insulting to make this fantastic journey in an electric vehicle?

“WHY didn’t you do this in a classic V8? Why couldn’t you get yourself a muscle car?”

My fault, of course, for saying just a bit too much. Had I limited to  ‘I’ve just been to the United States and driven a great road while there’, who’d have been any the wiser? 

Adding in that the road I’d driven was Route 66 was the element that fuelled further chat. The Mother Road being a bucket list dream for any vehicle enthusiast makes it an obvious magnet for more questions.  

Where the wheels fell off, with some, came with my admission I’d been there, done it all … in an electric car. 

To some - including a couple within the group I travelled with - that seemed something of a weirdo crazy stunt. (I couldn’t disagree. As much as I thought I knew what was ahead … I kinda didn’t. For one, I really wasn’t at all sure about the quality of the charging network). To a few I heard from during and since, the whole idea was nothing less than an outright travesty, a slap in the face of everything in motoring that makes America Great. Namely, gas guzzler engines with multiple elephant foot-sized cylinders.

Well, first of all, nothing bad happened: the car did not catch fire. The battery never ran flat. We didn’t die of dehydration in the desert, though admittedly on the day I forgot to pack water, we did end up being thirsty. My wife, Carol, never abandoned ship.

Second, I‘m sorry … but I’m not sorry. I was happy with my decision. If I had to do it again? Well, I’d definitely do it again. 

The experience could have been worse, should in some ways been better. But overall? It was generally great. I don’t think my approach diminished in any way the enjoyment from what is one of the world’s great car journeys. 

At this juncture, let’s clear the air. This wasn’t a ‘coming out’ moment. I love cars. All cars. As much as anything else, this was to remind, I suppose, that an electric car is still, fundamentally, the same kind of car as any other. By and large.

As much as I had fun with the electric on this trip, I’m not about to turn my life into an ohm land. Rest assured, we remain extremely content about keeping a petrol-reliant Skoda Superb wagon in our own garage. 

At same token, I also believe that right now we’re in a brilliant period of transition that should be embraced, not feared. 

Electric has come about for very good reasons. It is not only here to stay but is increasingly making sense. Not the point where it can accommodate every undertaking. It’ll be decades, at best, until we’re fully done with combustion. Maybe we never will be. That’s fine, in my way of thinking, so long as we can use fuels that don’t continue to screw up the planet.

And that’s the bit that I do have concern about. Science is science, facts are facts. Stuff is changing. The world is warming; 2024 is going to be the hottest year since record-taking began. The little we’re doing to stymie this just isn’t enough. 

The days in which I experienced Arizona delivered daytime heat there that was said to have been unprecedented for that time of year. People were suffering third degree burns that required medical attention simply from touching metalwork; ie car door handles. Think about that.

Anyway, I’ve driven a lot of electric cars these last few years and it’s become obvious that while many are best kept in the city-first role, some can now accommodate genuine adventuring, including to this degree.

Chicago, Illinois, to Los Angeles California, is a biggie in any kind of vehicle: 4000 kilometres is basically Cape Reinga to Bluff and back again, plus a bit more besides. 

The interstate is by far the quickest way to drive, and even then it asks for 32 hours at the wheel. Much faster than Route 66 even in its post-World War II heyday; that required the best part of a week. In the 1920s, you could double that, depending on the time of year. 

With 66? What exists now has an optimal speed limit here and there of 110kmh. Mainly, though, the posted limits are much more docile. Plus, you’re driving fragments; some less easily located than others. Anyone wanting to do these full justice to these, and the sights along the way, should set aside 21 days for the full immersion.

That kind of deep dive drive also demands good advice and guidance, based on extensive research. That in a nutshell is the New Zealand-run Gilligans’ Route 66 tour I was part of during the last two weeks of September and first half of October.

Orchestrated from Waimate, Sam Murray’s adventure has been hitting this road since 2014 and has become a twice-yearly adventure; taking into account Covid disruption, our run together was his 12th.

Sam’s dedication to getting the experience right is extraordinarily thorough. You are driving not only as much that is still public, but also some sections that, strictly speaking, aren’t so much, as they are actually no longer roads in a regulatory sense. On top of that, you get to meet some amazing characters and to see some amazing places, some only opened through special arrangement.

As much as possible, he favours the route as it originally was, laid down in 1926 was atop numerous trails blazed by Native Americans, explorers and soldiers.

What unveils from sticking to those very original roads was an amazing immersion into a forgotten world of abandoned motels, retro gas stations, large fibreglass statues of men holding stuff and classic diners with their special homey treats (none better than the trademark onion burger from Sid’s Diner in El Reno, Oklahoma). 

If you imagine 66 to be entirely an elbow-on-the-sill cruise? Some parts are. Some less so.

Generally speaking you’re at best on alligator-cracked two-lane pavement that fell off the priority list decades ago. 

When inaugurated, just 1000kms of the whole thing was paved. The ideal was to seal the whole deal, but that didn’t happen. Some sections that started off as dirt or gravel have remained that way. In Oklahoma, canny officials realised they could meet request to pave but also save dollars by simply running a narrow strip of seal down the middle of the road. 

Now much of that tar has gone. Conversely, bricks were clearly cheap and plentiful in Auburn, Illinois. Today they comprise a steadfast surface still over several nicely-restored kilometres. 

Making this road was a test of man versus Nature. You’d call it a draw. 

Two particular wins for the US Army’s Corps of Engineers, are Hooker’s Cut, southwest of St. Louis, where they cut through solid rock in the 1940s’ to make shifting military gear easier and the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge that crosses the Mississippi River between Illinois and Missouri. Both feats rightly won world-wide respect.

But just as often the road builders had to accept they couldn’t beat the landscape, so instead they want with the land and made do as best as they could. 

Narrow and rickety bridges, weird switchbacks, Deadman’s Curve with its 100 degree radius and, especially, Sitgreaves Pass all hammer home the risk to that.

“Bloody 66” is the one nickname never heard now that reflects a grim reality. The high volume of serious traffic accidents on the road, particularly in the West, skyrocketed post-WWII and lends good reason why the United States spent billions of dollars building the interstate highways. 

Between Kingman and Oatman, Arizona, loom the Black Mountains. Sitgreaves was once the only way through. This 12km ribbon held reputation for being the most hair-raising element of the entire 4000km drive; 191 turns and incredibly steep grades with minimal space for oncoming traffic and dizzying drops for those who get it wrong. If often had to be reversed up in early cars, else they’d lose power through fuel starvation. 

Locals called it the Arizona Sidewinder and it’s why there were  wreckers’ yards at either end and why the local doctors were kept busy. Even on a quiet sunny afternoon, with more donkeys on the road (they’re a famous sight in Oatman) than other cars, it has a certain ominous feel about it. 

And this is the improved version. The original road, which can still be seen by those brave enough to divert attention from the one they’re tackling, was even harder. That’s the one Lous Chevrolet and others famously raced on in 1928. 

Sitgreaves is still easy to find, but much of 66 has become shy to public scrutiny, none more so than where, within 10 years of opening, there were changes to facilitate local whims. 

It’s these that can be so easily missed and are why Gilligan’s special ingredient of an impressive tour-bespoke Apple CarPlay-involved mapping app becomes utterly vital. (With Sam just a phone call away in his van should total confusion arise). 

With the mapping app, you avoid falling into a classic trap. Another curio about Route 66 is the level, not least in the East, of curious duplication. 

In some spots Route 66 from the 1930s will run parallel to Route 66 from the 1950s. Some original sections serve as frontage road for access to driveways and country lanes; the one next door will, in turn, be a country byway adjacent to the interstate.

On top of this, the whole thing so zigs and zags, switches names and numbers, and sometimes just dead-ends that, if you are not paying attention, or even if you are, you can end up heading east instead of west.

This factors into why the Gilligans’ tour averages about 238 kilometres per day, which less than any other tour. But it allows which allows ample time to explore. 

Given how much it symbolises as a time capsule of America’s history, with all its struggles and triumphs, how special then to take it on in an electric car?

On a personal achievement scale: Totally. Hosting an electric was also a first for Gilligans; most others on the tour had no experience of this technology, either. Some were curious, some not. That was fine. It’s good, in my book, when an EV can just become another face in the crowd. 

All the same, any sense of this being a trail-blazer thing only existed within our group. It quickly dawned I wasn’t a man alone on the road itself. Daily sights of all the Japanese, South Korea and European EVs we know so well plus those we only get to read about - Rivians, Lucids, several Hummers suggest the battery baton is being carried by many.

I as indebted to pre-departure assistance from Mike and Jessica May, Las Vegas-based Teslarati who together run ElectricRoute66.com, a must-visit site that is hugely informative, and are high profile on California and Kingman Route 66 associations and are deeply involved with a brilliant EV museum in Kingman, Arizona.

Also of great help was a guy I met along the way, through Sam. In addition to be president of his home state Oklahoma’s Route 66 Association, Rhys Martin has since July been managing Route 66 matters for America’s National Trust for Historic Preservation. You couldn’t meet a nicer person. Again, another highly enthusiastic about 66’s potential as a world-class electric highway.

Then there’s the indefatigable Jim Hinckley, a internationally-renowned foremost Route 66 author (22 books, more coming to boil) and acknowledged automotive expert whose enthusiasm for electric is also massive.

Speaking to us from Kingman, his home town, he can see that EVs are not for everyone, and probably never will be, but the technology is proven and is deserving a place in the traffic stream on a route that has long been about freedom, independence and great change.

“Electric cars are now relevant; we will keep seeing them in greater numbers.

“Route 66 has always been evolving and never evolving fast enough. it's going to continue to evolve and change. Electric vehicles are a big part of that change.”

If anyone should know, it’s this 66-year-old. His whole life has been about this road. 

“My folks teased me I was potty trained on this road. It’s the road that I learned to ride a bicycle on and I learned to drive on.”

In respect to that, lesson one was a biggie: He and his dad had to bring hay back to the property; when his pa’s Chevrolet blew a water pump, the back up choice of a 1959 Studebaker was enlisted. Dad stayed with the Chevy and told young Jim to drive the Studebaker.

“I had to get some wire and some wood blocks to put on the pedals and driving this road, no guardrails. And when you go in a corner with that thing loaded with hay … I do think I had to change my pants when I got home.”

He’d embarked with three instructions. “Dad told me … don’t kill yourself, I can't afford to lose the tax deduction.” Also, don't wreck the truck. “I don't want to buy another one.” One last thing: Take care with gear changing or you’re going to learn how to rebuild the clutch. “And the next weekend, my dad showed me how to do that.”

EVs being so much kinder to drive will make them useful for introducing a new generation to Route 66, he muses; on top of all that, there’s broad sentiment from those with skin in the gamer that this tech is simply core to securing the road’s future.

Recharging opportunity here is already generally good, but intent to add even more chargers, timed with the road’s 100th birthday in 2026, is a good thing. Better still, that’s supplemental to another happening thing, the US-wide opening up the Tesla Supercharger network to rival brands.

At present, there already seem to be more superchargers, in more places, on 66 than there are provisions for cars dedicating to the international Combined Charging System format. But on strength of my sightings, outside of California, Americans are favouring CCS cars as much as they do Teslas.

Unity relies on a proprietary adapter from Tesla. Just Rivian and Ford presently have the crucial NACS device. Up to six other brands are lining up, but distribution has been slow. The Kia EV6 I drove will conceivably be Supercharger-ready next year. Having a NACS for my trip would have made it even easier.

As is, zoning in on the domestic big guns of DC fast charging, Electrify America and EVGo, and their 150kWh ‘ultra’ and 350kW ‘hyper’ chargers was the best idea for my car’s advanced 800 volt platform.

Created from a $US2 billion seeding fund from VW’s Dieselgate fine, EA has been criticised for middling reliability and maintenance of its stations. 

I didn’t find that to issue, but would agree you can easily see where the funding didn’t go. Sites are rather ‘industrial’. Of almost three dozen visited, I recall only one having shade. 

Locations are low key edge-of-town and easiest nailed down by Google or a specialist app. If neither avails, best head to a Walmart; they seem to have a tie-up. America’s famous mega-shop offers clean rest rooms and guaranteed delight for fans of the humour blog depicting customers of these stores.

As in NZ, chargers here are app-driven; they also accept credit cards. Setting up an account unlocks tastier prices, if you can show US residency, but so long as your credit card has a security chip, you’re zipping into zap. Mostly. Some readers were wary of my card. Fortunately, my wife’s never failed.

Halloween prep was big during our trip and some hubs were being ghoulish in showing up online as being active yet very much playing dead on arrival. Pontiac’s only DC station was taped off like a crime scene. Las Vegas was a gamble; two of four visited on a single afternoon were inoperative; one still in build, the other apparently under de-construction.

There was only one time when an overnight stop failed to provide any useful option. The conjoined cities of Laughlin, Nevada, and Bullhead City, Arizona, are home to 54,000 souls. And, for non-Teslarati, a single puny AC trickle charger.

Long trips can raise or ruin a car’s reputation. I liked EV6 before. I really admire it now.

Comfort, quietness, a spacious cabin - and a mega-sized boot that simply swallowed the four bags we started with and five brought home. Ours was the entry all-wheel-drive, but far from basic in content; top of the ‘cool’ list for us were the in-seat cold air blowers. You cannot believe how appreciated these are in desert driving.

Hyundai’s E-GMP platform remains tech-forward, but this example represented a small step back in time in a US market sense. America received the mid-life facelift last year, with numerous improvements and styling changes, but this one was an original era 77kW. It came to me with 34,458 miles (55,454km) on the clock, to which I added 2999 miles/4826km.

Yeah, but … why NOT a Mustang, a Camaro, a Challenger or a Charger?

Because they are not only less relevant now. They were barely relevant, ever.

Those who imagine everything about 66 has tied and always will tie to old school American muscle power firing on eight cylinders will be challenged to understand why taking a crossover, let alone an electric one, on a muscle car drive route could even be contemplated.

However, reality is it makes sense, for all sorts of reasons. For one, as much as this will seem a sacrilege, there’s a lot of BS in respect to that era of performance V8s and this road, not least those performance models that America did so well.

The muscle car genre is a child of the 1960s. By the time the first arrived in 1964, interstate highway construction had been in full-swing for eight years and large portions of Route 66 were already gone. By 1969, arguably the height of the muscle car era, Route 66 was almost completely eliminated in many of the states it used to run through.

Going big-engined is also highly challenging, now, because modern V8 cars have been pulled by mainstream rental firms. So if you want  a performance-themed model, at very best it’ll be a six-cylinder and, with much higher certainty, will be a four-cylinder.

But would you? Not I. Not Sam. He promotes taking an SUV or a crossover and I can fully understand why. 

The distance and the wide quality of surface makes a capacious, high-riding, softer-sprung vehicle a lot more convenient and comfortable than a low-slung, orthodox car of any kind, let alone one with any sense of enhanced sportiness. 

If you’re going to rent an EV? From my experience, don’t expect a great choice. The Hertz-Tesla debacle appears to have seriously deflated the industry’s initial optimism. This story should have been about taking a ‘classic, but now electric, NZ-relevant US nameplate car on the classic US drive.’ When Cadillac and Ford couldn’t come through with press cars, I had to find a rental at short notice. 

The Mustang Mach-E that was promised by the group’s preferred hire company wasn’t available when we fronted up to their desk. The Polestar 2 and Hyundai Ioniq 5 that would have been fine were also AWOL. A Tesla? Yes… but no. Not simply because Elon Musk is a dolt. I needed CarPlay and Tesla is Apple agnostic. The EV6 was almost an afterthought for the desk clerk, but I was relieved to snare it.

Not a lot of character, considerable competence; that’s the Kia. What it does well, it does very well indeed. Ambling along for maximum local environment immersion made the car all but noiseless. I suspect stealth is why we saw many hand-sized black shapes scuttling across an Arizona byway.  Male tarantulas spiders risk all to find a mate, we later learned, but potentially they were oblivious to us.

Absolute range anxiety never arose, but from Texas and beyond,  driving the car in its thriftiest mode ended. America was in a heatwave and the air con is too tempered in Eco. Also, from the Lone Star State on,  there’s unavoidably more motorway running. Locals don’t mess about on the interstate and aren’t impressed by those in EVs they try to. Rising ambient heat also hurt the battery’s performance. Gone were the days when it registered 533 kilometres’ maximum range. On 30-35 Celsius days, it mostly determined on giving us 80kms less from a full charge.

All this, and ahead were the two longest days on the road.

Being just 381km, Tucumcari to Albuquerque doesn’t seem so bad. But it’s a continual climb to mid-point Santa Fe; America’s second oldest city is at 2194 metres above seas level also the second highest. The car climbed effortless, but needed a big midday refill. To be fair, so did the petrol stuff.

Laughlin to Pasadena, California, was in much kinder terrain, but further. Plan was again to replenish mid-point, in Barstow. All going well we’d be in the pool by 4.30pm. Reality was frazzled last-in arrival, three hours behind schedule.

Everything that could go wrong, did. A faulty charger. Traffic jams. Tough navigation in Pasadena rush hour. That last hour of freeway driving being into sun glare. Our last full day at the wheel was the worst.

Did it all add up?

When I set about hiring an EV, the rental company offered a manager’s special rate which turned out to be bogus unless I prepared to take a Chevrolet Sonic. That’s a small city hatchback with a small battery and very modest range. Clearly not a car for this journey. 

The EV6 was an upgrade so added cost to the original price. I was left with impression that taking one of the four-cylinder petrol SUVs also on tour would have been cheaper. I now know that wasn’t the case; the Kia was less expensive by a comfortable margin. So, a saving there.

Electricity is cheaper to buy over there than here - though cost differs state to state - and the car was reasonably thrifty, with an average energy consumption of around 18 kWh/100km if my maths are correct. The drawback is you use more of it, more often.

Cost efficiency wise, the petrol cars - particularly those accepting America’s low-grade 88 octane - were less expensive to run simply because they only required topping up every three days, whereas even though I got better at maximising energy usage as the trip unfolded, replenishment was still a daily necessity. On some days, twice. On one, three times.

I have to say that side of things became a bit of a chore. I always recharged at end of day, when everyone else was at the overnight lodgings, because I was intent on not causing upset to the day’s activities. 

On that side of things, we only ran close the once, when I’d clean forgotten about a pre-arranged group visit to Abraham Lincoln’s home in Springfield. Fortunately, we were very close and had just wrapped up charging when Sam called to asked where the heck we were. But the guide didn’t looked happy about being kept waiting those extra few minutes, all the same. From thereon, though, we always triple-checked the day’s schedule.

One lesson from it all is that the concept of a cheeky 20 minutes here, 30 minutes there only works if you know in advance where the charging stations are. 

We were strangers in a strange land and, even though using the usual apps and Google gave me locations, I also had to then work out if they were on the route our trip was taking. 

We had several cell phones in the car - one provided by Sam that’s on a US network to run his mapping - and two others on NZ plans. At times two were dedicating to different guidance tasks; one for Sam’s official route, he other looking for chargers. We then had to cross-reference across both to work out where, or if, there was any mutual destination correlation. With all this going on, occasionally the phone would get so hot they began to play up (once I put one in a freezer at Walmart to sort it). Messy, but we always muddled through.

But diverting off, then back to, the drive schedule became a regularity. And then, of course, even if you got to a fast charger and didn’t have to wait to use it, replenishment beyond 80 percent - often required - took the better part of an hour. The day when recharging will be accomplished as quickly and easily as refilling a fuel tank does now cannot come fast enough.

The car came with a trickle charger but using it simply wasn’t practicable, even when I had a motel room and could park right. Plus, of course, the uptake rate is so painfully slow even overnight replenishment would have made negligible effect. 

Still, as a feel-good proof of potential, I’ve no regrets and, really, it was overall  great way to explore Route 66, one of those gems for which no price is too high. It was a truly life-enriching experience.

Hinckley puts it so well: “ … it’s just larger than life. It is not a highway anymore. It's an experience, a road of dreams, a living time capsule with a little bit of Disneyland on top.”