By Hannah Elliott, Los Angeles.
In a perfect world, taking the scenic route—and making it in one charge—would not be mutually exclusive. We wouldn’t have to choose between driving electric vehicles and having fun.
But even the best EVs from Audi, Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, and Tesla can barely make it from Los Angeles to Las Vegas on one charge, let alone to San Francisco.
But we’re getting closer. Earlier this month, Mercedes announced that its EQXX prototype had reached 621 miles (1,000km) on a single charge, a benchmark that beat what had previously boasted the most range: the Lucid Air.
Last week I drove an Air—the $169,000 (R2.6 million), 1,111-horsepower (828kW) Dream Edition Performance version—from Palo Alto to Los Angeles.
The thought of trying to make it in one charge by “hypermiling” (maximizing) every last inch of battery juice had made me gag.
I didn’t want to have to select the shortest—also ugliest—stretch of freeway for my journey. I didn’t want to have to carefully plan each stop to coincide with fast-charger locations.
I didn’t want to skip spur-of-the-moment enticements off the beaten path because they’d cut down on range. I didn’t want to arrive at my destination, if I made it at all, running on fumes and anxiety.
I wanted to have fun.
So I jetted down state Route 101, which was blooming in springtime flora and Cali coast sunshine.
I blasted the air conditioning and seat massagers while driving faster than recommended for maximum battery range. I played Little Dragon and Chromeo and MotherMary.
I diverged from my intended course on a whim to park by the sea. I passed slowpokes at will in one of the car’s more aggressive driving modes.
I didn’t take the shortest route home, but I didn’t take the longest route, either. This drive was intended to approximate real life.
The 390-mile (627km) trip took 11 hours, including two stops to charge.
While the Air still needs to improve its design values, overall quality, and infotainment systems, it proved thrilling, fast, and fun to drive.
With a market cap that went as high as $91 billion (R1.4 trillion)—bigger than Ford and General Motors—plus 25,000 orders placed to date and an electric SUV on the way, this fledgling company has the potential to offer a viable alternative to the cult of Tesla.
That’s if you can get one. Lucid has delivered fewer than 400 vehicles since its inception under the name Atieva in 2007, 200 of which have been recalled due to a safety defect.
Current wait times on new orders extend to five months, a spokesman told me last week.
Rivian, Tesla, and even General Motors struggle to produce enough of their new EVs to fulfill orders; I don’t see Lucid being able to fare much better, at least for the next few years.
Interior Quibbles
Before the drive, I visited company headquarters in the former Theranos building in Newark, Calif., to tour the design studio. Then I took the car back to my hotel in Palo Alto to depart the next morning.
The day started at 8:15 a.m. with 388 miles (624km) remaining of the range. I had departed Lucid’s headquarters with 426 miles (685km) listed and parked with 411 miles (661km) registered that night at my hotel, so range dropped overnight—unless the valets went on a joyride after hours.
Neither option left me feeling especially charmed.
As I left Palo Alto’s downtown district, I planned to wait until I reached 100 miles (160km) left on the battery, at which point I’d hunt for a charger and deal with whatever happened next.
This left me plenty of time to think about the shape of the car and the cabin. They need some work.
The hammerhead front of the vehicle commands the eye, with its thin lines of glowing lights that run along the front and down each side. It looks great.
But the ultra-low angle of the front pillar cuts visibility for people sitting in the front and poses a physical obstacle while getting in and out of the car.
The back slope of the rear pillar looks less beautiful, a problem highlighted by a two-tone rear pillar that sharply slopes.
The fabric bolsters covering the pillars popped out easily when I felt them; this would be a problem for any carmaker, particularly for a brand trying to sell itself as Silicon Valley’s luxury option.
A few refinements could have greatly improved the driving experience. The fat, formless steering wheel lacked ergonomic bumps for fingers; my hands became fatigued after hours of gripping.
The steering column didn’t extend far enough to give my arms a proper 90-degree bend, stressing my arms and shoulders.
The turning indicators rarely self-canceled. Cruise control was impossible to engage. Trying to sync the Bluetooth system with my phone for calls proved equally futile. (Apple iPlay is coming, a Lucid spokesperson tells me.)
While an infotainment screen retracts, as does the lid to a storage compartment in the center console, neither retract to a fully flush position, restricting access to the charging outlets.
The clock was frequently wrong until it finally synched—partially—with my phone. The audio screen sometimes showed the wrong music track playing or sat spooling with no track at all.
There are more issues. To move the steering wheel and mirror positions, you must click through multiple screens in the center console computer, which is inconvenient and distracting.
Locks and trunks are controlled by an electronic interface in a center console touchscreen, too. I never did find the seat heaters, although Lucid assures me they are there, along with coolers.
The key fob worked, except when it didn’t, but you can’t open the rear trunk with it. On the advice of Lucid’s public relations people, I wore it on a lanyard around my neck so as not to get locked out of the car.
This apparently happens with enough frequency that they are now putting key fobs in lanyards.
These are small things that decidedly add up, and they don’t happen in modern luxury cars from established marques.
At this moment, the car is not the luxury experience a mid-six-figure price tag would suggest.
Then there’s the matter of the greenhouse-style roof, which spans from the hood to the back of the car in a single pane. (Lucid says no unusual repairs are required if it gets chipped; you would fix this as you would any windshield.)
The benefit of having a glass dome above me—awesome visibility—was mitigated by the sun visors that cut upward visibility by a quarter.
While the see-through roof regulates heat and sun better than the targa-top of the Hummer EV, I felt practically sun-blind by the conclusion of my journey.
I wore a hat during the entire drive, and my face still felt blanched by the heat and unrelenting light.
Charging Time
As with all EVs, the “mileage” listed on the vehicle’s computer screens does not mean actual miles.
It means some approximation of distance that varies greatly, depending on, among other things, what mode you’re in (in the Air, it’s Smooth, Swift, or Sprint), how aggressively you drive, and whether you drive up any inclines.
Hills in general drained the Air’s battery at a very high rate; the “regen” function that reclaims energy as I braked downhill did not match the energy expended as I climbed.
Do not waste your time on Chargepoint chargers. Once I noticed that I had 100 miles (160km) of range left, I found one such Level 2 charging station in a desolate Hampton Inn parking lot near Santa Maria.
I downloaded the app required to use it, gave my credit card info, and waited for nearly two hours.
For this, I was rewarded with 26 miles (41km) of charge—paltry, especially considering that I’d had to drive 7 miles (11km) out of my way just to find the charger.
Then I got a bright idea. I’d enjoy a beautiful lunch at the Ritz-Carlton in Santa Barbara while I charged there! At least the scenery would be better.
So I rolled an additional 60 miles (96km) down the road … and was kindly but summarily dismissed by Ritz valets, who informed me that the wait time to use one of their chargers was: “tomorrow.”
Plan C had me move along to a shopping center in Goleta, Calif., where an Electrify America bank of chargers awaited.
These are DC fast-charging stations that, once I had synced, gave me a full charge of 441 miles (709km) in one hour, 23 minutes at a cost of $49.88 (R769.22). (The Air comes with three years of free charging at Electrify America, Lucid says; I’m not sure why I was charged.)
I spent the time buying plants at a home store in the parking lot—a practical, if unglamorous, use of my time.
I fought afternoon traffic on the 101 heading toward downtown LA and made it home at 7:30 p.m., just in time for dinner—and honestly, happy to have made the trip.
Despite its flaws, I loved how swiftly the high-powered Air accelerated, even at high speeds. I really enjoyed how drivers in Teslas and Taycans craned their necks to get a look at this newcomer before I passed them.
The Air isn’t perfect, but it stirs optimism about the future of electric vehicles.
And while I wouldn’t choose the Lucid Air over an EV from a heritage luxury automaker like Mercedes or Porsche, I would choose it over something from Tesla.
l would even take it to Palo Alto again. Next time, though, I’d need a night at the Ritz.
Keyword: Lucid Air road test – Tempting alternative to Tesla