Living Like Ed (14 page)

Ethanol Blends

Ethanol is a type of alcohol, like methanol. It’s made by fermenting and distilling starch crops, like corn—or what’s known as
cellulosic biomass,
like trees and grasses—so it’s similar to biodiesel in terms of what it’s made of, and it too is made domestically. It burns very clean—reducing greenhouse gas emissions—and because you’re using that much less fossil fuel, you’re again reducing dependence on foreign oil.

But while biodiesel can be used only in a diesel engine,
some
ethanol can be used in any gasoline engine—and there are far more gasoline-engine vehicles on the road today than there are diesels, especially in the United States. All of the car companies have approved the use of E10—also called
gasohol—
in their cars and trucks. E10 is a blend made of 10 percent ethanol and 90 percent gasoline, so running E10 will not affect your vehicle’s warranty. It’s okay to use it in any gas-powered car or truck. That alone makes ethanol a desirable alternative fuel, since it’s usable, at least to a degree, in so many vehicles.

Many vehicles on the road right now are also designed to run on a blend called E85, which is 85 percent ethanol and 15 percent gasoline. Most of these vehicles are flex-fuel vehicles, so you can run them on E85, on gasoline, or on any combination of the two.

The only real drawback to these flex-fuel vehicles is that their engine management computers haven’t been programmed to run exclusively on E85. That means your gas mileage could drop as much as 25 percent when you run E85 instead of gas, because ethanol has a lower energy content than gasoline.

On the plus side, E85 is cheaper than gasoline, especially in the Midwest. And because it has a higher octane content, you may experience more power from your engine by running E85. (If your car has a problem with pinging, or detonation, it may also benefit by running some ethanol.) Unfortunately, it’s not the easiest fuel to find, but there are several hundred filling stations selling E85 across the country. It’s the chicken-and-the-egg thing. The reason they are not making great quantities of the fuel and not many stations sell it is because they figure, “There’s not many cars that run on it. We’re not gonna put up any stations.” Now that several automakers, including GM, are making flex-fuel vehicles that run on E85, I’m sure we’ll start to see more stations that sell E85.

To Fly or Not to Fly

At the very bottom of my transportation hierarchy—and with good reason—is air travel. Simply put, I’d rather not fly. It’s not that I’m afraid. Statistically, it’s safer in the sky than it is on a highway. I just don’t like to fly at 31,000 feet burning kerosene.

That’s right, that’s what jet fuel is: kerosene with a mold retardant. When it’s burned, it emits all these pollutants:

•
carbon dioxide (CO2), which is a leading cause of global warming

•
oxides of nitrogen

•
sulfur dioxide

•
soot

•
water vapor

Emitting all that CO2 is bad enough, but experts say the cock-tail created by those other emissions may double airplanes’ total impact on climate change.

And unlike pollution created at street level, there are no trees up in the stratosphere to mitigate that CO2, that pollution. What happens to it? How does it affect global climate change? Some studies suggest it could be quite damaging.

Mile for mile, driving a very clean hybrid—with its low tailpipe emissions—just plain creates less pollutants in the air than your share of that plane ride will.

The mileage is not
bad
when you fly, if you’re in one of the more efficient planes, and if you take off and land without a lot of circling. You can get 50-some-odd miles per gallon. But you’re burning kerosene. And you’ve seen jets. When you’re behind a jet, the exhaust smells a little different from what comes out of a hybrid car.

Sure, there are a lot of people on an airplane. But compare it to a Greyhound bus. A Greyhound bus runs on diesel fuel, usually, and when you average it out, it gets about 400 mpg, because there are usually seventy-some-odd people on it. You’re getting really good mileage, given the relatively light weight of a Greyhound bus and the relatively small amount of fuel it consumes per passenger. Jet engines burn through a lot more fuel, so even when they’re full, their mileage is nowhere near as good—just 50 to 60 mpg. And again, they’re burning kerosene.

So I only fly when I must. If at all possible I’d much rather drive the hybrid than fly.

                  The most challenging part of living with Ed has been adjusting to his transportation issues. It’s gotten better, since we have hybrids and better electric cars and better cars in general—even the gasoline-burning cars are much cleaner.

But someone gave Ed grief once while he was waiting to board a plane: “Oh, some environmentalist you are. Flying in an airplane,” and now there’s no flying anymore. We got invited to these elaborate four-day weekend trips to Venice with all of Hollywood, all expenses paid. The invitations alone were so beautiful you wanted to frame them. But no, can’t go. And inside I was thinking, “Oh, I hate you so much. I just hate you.”

Another time, we got invited to Alaska, and Ed was going to
drive
there. But he had just had his femur reset from an accident, and the doctors said, “If you drive, you will be crippled for the rest of your life.” So I got a campaign of people to call Ed and say, “You know, you should probably see what you’re preserving once before it changes,” because he had never been to Alaska. We got to go on that trip, but not without a lot of, ahem, persuasion.

I
like
to drive. I like the highway, the solitude, the peace, the changing scenery. And if I get from L.A. to Vancouver for $90, I’m laughing. When I have to go on a trip for an acting job, I’ll call up the production company and say, “How much will you reimburse me for the airfare? $830? You mind if I drive? Will you give me the money?” So they give me $830 and it cost me $180 round-trip, and I’m $650 in the black before I’ve said a single line of dialogue.

I’ll drive to New York. I’ll drive to Philadelphia. I’d prefer to drive anywhere, rather than fly, if I’ve got the time. And I can usually make the time.

                  I drove cross-country with Ed a couple of times. Most people do that once in a lifetime, right? But no, that’s a pretty common occurrence for Ed.

Me, I fly. I figure the plane’s going there anyway. It’s not like I like to fly, and I’m not jumping on a plane all the time. Actually, I really
don’t
like to fly. That shows you how much I
really
don’t like to drive. It’s too boring. Maybe if Ed let me drive, I’d have a little more interest. And he never goes above the speed limit, 55 or 65 all the way. It’s absolute torture.

So we’ve worked out a compromise: One drives, one flies. Whatever it takes to make it all work, you know. He might be a little tired when he gets where we’re going, but at least he knows where his luggage is. He does take steps to offset the pollution whenever I fly—or on those rare occasions when I’m able to get him on a plane.

                  When I do have to fly—or when Rachelle chooses to fly—there’s something I do to mitigate the CO2 foot-print, the carbon footprint, from all that kerosene being burned at 31,000 feet. What I do is I get a TerraPass flight tag. I’ll let my friend Adam Stein from TerraPass explain what a carbon footprint is and how TerraPass offsets it.