Sweet Little Lies

We’re driving Guy’s Rivian from Hood River to San Luis Obispo to pick up Tavish for the summer. The only Electrify America charger we had to use was in the parking lot of a Safeway in Anderson, California. Guy got the charger working on the third try and we shared a sigh of relief.

“That wasn’t too bad,” understated Guy. 

He stood in the sunshine admiring the working charger. I put my feet on his dashboard and started a NY Times crossword puzzle. Pepper peed around the charger a little, then nestled in adjacently. A silver KIA Niro jammed with skateboards and suitcases pulled up beside us. It had a dog in the backseat and a shiny blue cruiser bike on the roof. The bike sported a pink bell and a parrot on its handlebars. 

A grey-haired man wearing a “Mama Tried” t-shirt and flip-flops emerged. He patted the hood of Guy’s Rivian appreciatively.

“An electric truck!” he said. “Look at that!”

“Yep,” Guy said and did.

The man plugged his car into the charge port, but it didn’t work. 

“Dammit!” he said. “And I LOVE Electrify America chargers! I’ve tried them all.- Electrify America is the BEST.”

Guy and I enjoy meeting new people at charging stations. We want to make friends with the entirety of the Electric vehicle world. But this statement was a red flag; it’s no secret that Electrify America chargers are awful.

Later, I asked Guy, “Maybe he doesn’t know how bad Electrify America Chargers are because he’s never used a Tesla charger, and all the other chargers are that much worse?”

“Maybe,” Guy said, generously.

In case you worry I am demonstrating unwarranted bias against Electrify America chargers, please (see my previous blogs) Google search “Why is Electrify America so Terrible” and you’ll get insights like this: https://www.ixforums.com/threads/why-is-electrify-america-such-hot-sticky-garbage.

“I know it’s a punishment company. I know this. But does no one there have any pride? Why does their UX suck so, so hard?.”

While attempting to find a gentler take on EA’s horribleness, I read that Electrify America chargers have the highest number of customer complaints simply because they operate the highest number of charging stations. 

Unfortunately, this is a lie.

The company with the most EV charging stations in the US is Tesla, with 1,600 Supercharger stations and over 17,000 fast-charging ports. Electricity America has 800 stations and 3,600 fast-charging ports—minus the one in Anderson that isn’t working, so 3599.

Electrify America is owned by the Volkswagen Group of America. Volkswagon was required to build the EA network as part of its Clean Air Act settlement after its diesel-emissions scandal–-probably EA’s shitty service is a German middle finger for getting caught being big fat cheaters. No one likes being caught in a blatant lie.

After Mama Tried’s egregious Electrify America statement, I began to take his stories with a grain of salt. Just how hard HAD his mother tried? 

“I coulda had an electric truck,” he continued, “but instead I bought this,” he pointed at his KIA. “Paid $85,000 for it. It’s got an engine for each wheel, and goes 163 miles per hour. Your truck can’t do that.”

Guy said that this statement was where he began to doubt. $85,000 for a KIA?

Later, he and Google priced out an electric KIA with all the fancy options and could only bring the total to $67,000.

Plus, $163 mph with a bike on top?

In English- teacher world, the term “unreliable narrator” is used when the person telling a story can’t be trusted. It’s a popular device in books and movies because it invokes strong reactions from the audience. Instinctively, we WANT to like and trust a person telling us a story; it’s a weird and surprising feeling when we find out we can’t.

I had a boyfriend once who told me that his brother had the same birthday as me. It was so romantic! Imagine my weird and surprised feelings a few months later when he showed up wearing my skirt and claiming to be penpals with Hunter S Thompson! His brother’s birthday wasn’t the same day as mine, either. Turns out he was an unreliable narrator in a manic phase.

Anyway.

Literary criticism recognizes 4 types of unreliable narrators:

1. Picaro–a character who over-exaggerates to enhance the story
2. Madman–a character who is unreliable because they are mentally detached from reality and don’t know what’s real
3. Naif–a character whose view of reality is colored by age or inexperience
4. Liar–a character who cannot be trusted because they LIE

Ex-boyfriends aside, some of my favorite books have unreliable narrators-–Remember “Notes on a Scandal”, by Zoe Heller? After the first few chapters, we realize Barbara isn’t the sheltered, warm-hearted teacher we thought she was…because she’s a self-righteous, pathologically obsessive stalker. Ouch.

Once an audience spots an unreliable narrator, we can decide to suspend our disbelief and jump aboard and enjoy the story. How many good stories are really true, anyway? Was King Kong REALLY on top of the Empire State Building? Who cares?

Here’s my view on types of unreliable narrators, in books, staff-rooms, bedrooms, and otherwise:

1. Blowhard: people who make stuff up because they think we are stupid
2. Fragile: people whose reality is tilted because of mental illness
3. Idiot: people whose view of reality is based on hate or ignorance
4. Asshole: people who are full of shit. 

Back at the charger, Mama Tried looked proudly at his Kia.

“This is my life now,“ he said. “I was a manager at Home Depot and they gave me stock options. I’ve got 8 million dollars in the bank, so I’m going fishing. Louella and I love fishing. Louella’s my dog.”

He pointed to the dog in the backseat of his car. She nodded and panted. 

Later that night Guy said, “If he got in at the right time and made smart decisions with his stocks, he could have $8 million in the bank right now.”

“How many people who have $8 million in the bank talk about it to strangers at random charging stations?” I asked.

“True,” Guy acknowledged, because we both know that if HE had that much in the bank, he wouldn’t even tell ME about it. 

“I’m a celebrity chef,” Mama Tried continued. “I’ve got everything I need in that car. Saute pans, knives, everything. I cook for Willie Nelson and Jimmy Buffet even though…” his voice lowered to a whisper, “Jimmy doesn’t have much longer.”  

He shook his head mournfully. “His liver.”

He brightened. 

“Jimmy gave me his bike!” He pointed to the bike on top of his car. It said “Margaritaville” on its frame, and again on the fork.

“After the last show, Jimmy gave me a hug and said he wanted me to have his bike. He couldn’t ride it anymore. Kept falling off. So he gave it to me and there it is!”

Guy said “Holy Shit!” and took a picture of Jimmy Buffet’s (?) bike on top of the $85,000 KIA. 

“I was on my way to the Telluride Bluegrass Festival to cook for Emmy Lou Harris. Emmy Lou loves my Tequila prawns,” Mama Tried explained.

“I’m supposed to be in Telluride in a couple weeks. But on the way, I stayed at a KOA campground AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO CAMP. They have cabins! $100 a night. And there are KOA’s all over the country. Unbelievable.

“I said to Louella ‘This is it. We’re not going to Telluride.'”

“I heard KOAs have swimming pools,” I said.

“Yep,” he nodded. “And cabins.”

Guy’s truck finished charging.

“I won’t hold you up!” the man said. “Have a great trip.”

I want it to be true. I want every word to be true, and I want Louella and him to eat freshly caught trout and salmon and catfish cooked on a non-stick grill outside of every KOA cabin across all of America for the rest of their beautiful lives.

And that is the truth.