Off to work.

My office was as beige as it ever was, the 90s aura was not everyone’s favorite, particularly on such a sunny day, but I liked it.

Paperwork was the name of the game that week. A few functional improvements for the shift quality of our 9-speed transmission for the Jeep Compass had been developed and their validation was almost done. A software or calibration change that makes it to a production plant has to go through a long list of tests, checks and approvals.

An engineering Change Document (CN) is what FCA used to call these approval documents, and it was my responsibility to carry it through the required steps.

Dull, is what many engineers would call the task of creating, managing and finalizing a CN. Honestly, I liked it. First, it is a very straightforward and sequential process: you document the change, take it to a meeting with managers and executives to kick off the work – initial approval – and work on documenting the validation efforts as they happen. Different people approve the document once all validation has been completed, and the software is then good to go to the plant. Boring sometimes, but very satisfactory.

My workload had been very high during the winter, but it was now more manageable, so when the email came in, I was happy to offer my help.

Miguel,

Marco is coming from Italy to check on a 2018 MP 1.4L that keeps setting a P0805 on the ECM. The vehicle is a Roush fleet asset, it’s in the Auburn Hills Roush facility. Vehicle Scan Report is attached. Have you seen this issue before? Any help is greatly appreciated.

“What the hell is a P0805?” I thought and immediately logged on to our service website to investigate. I knew it was a DTC (Diagnostic Trouble Code), but I had no idea what it was supposed to mean.

“Clutch position sensor A Circuit Malfunction” was the description, which made sense since the Vehicle Scan Report showed the vehicle had a manual transmission.

Basically, the diagnostic makes sure the clutch position sensor detects a pedal press every time the engine speed changes at a given vehicle speed. In other words, the controls were designed to expect a clutch pedal press every time the driver shifted gears.

My Italian colleagues were responsible for the engine controls for the Jeep Compass (MP is its internal code) 1.4L Turbo, but I was responsible for documentation, release to plant and vehicle integration of this engine, since the Compass was built in North America, where I was based. This meant that when there were issues at a vehicle level, I was expected to lead the investigation. In this particular case, though, I wasn’t made aware of the problem and they decided to fly someone in from Europe to investigate.

My mood was still great. The clock read 10 am, and I was outside, windows down, sunroof open, and my car enjoyable as ever. I was on my way to Roush to meet Marco.

Very friendly and approachable, Marco shook my hand and we chatted for a few minutes before walking in to the main lobby. I followed him inside and noticed his outfit was very… Italian. Business casual would have been an understatement; he looked like a real estate agent from Milano.

“My friend,” he said while addressing the guy at the front desk.

“I am looking for a vehicle, a Jeep Compass, that is setting a clutch pedal fault code. Here’s the VIN.”

The young dude at the front desk checked his computer and told us the vehicle was in the back and handed us keys to it. Before heading out to the car, though, I had a few questions.

“Hey man, a few questions maybe you can help me with,” I told the young man.

“Is this vehicle driven by the same driver all the time? Like, exclusively?” I asked.

“No, drivers have a schedule so vehicles rotate from one to another,” he responded.

“How many 1.4L manual transmission Compass do you guys have in the fleet?”

“Just this one here, but Las Vegas has around 5.”

“Has any of those 5 vehicles ever set this fault code?”

“No, only this one.”

“Is any of the drivers a very experienced truck driver? Someone that might have driven semi-trucks in the 70s or 80s maybe?”

“The driver that reported the issue might have that experience, yes, he is one of our most experienced drivers.”

That was a very interesting clue.

You see, in older heavy trucks, transmissions were not synchronized. When shifting from one gear to another, the speed of the engine changes in relation to the speed of the wheels. Say you shift from 2nd gear at 2000 engine rpm at 40 MPH, 3rd gear, at the same vehicle speed, will mean a lower engine speed, say 1500 rpm.

Without synchronizers, gears would grind when shifting: gears were spinning at 2000 rpm and all of a sudden, you want to engage them with gears spinning at 1500 rpm (slower). That won’t work.

What you do is you pull the shift lever to Neutral, leave it there until the engine goes from 2000 rpm to 1500 rpm, and then push the shift lever into 3rd gear. This can be done without using the clutch pedal.

Modern transmissions are synchronized and you don’t need to wait until the engine speed matches that of the next gear: an internal mechanism slows down the gears so their speed matches and the gear shift lever clicks into position without problems. You can, however, use a synchronized transmission just like you would an older non-synchronized one.

Man, I don’t know if it was my mood that day or what, but I was certain that this issue was really a driver shifting without using the clutch pedal. This is totally fine and expected. I do it all the time, and so do many others.

Were the controls designed by someone who had never heard of this before? Couldn’t possibly be.

I shared my theory with Marco and he immediately said that it was not possible, that such a maneuver would heavily damage the drivetrain.

“I do it all the time in my own car,” I told him, confused by his reaction.

“Maybe you should have your transmission inspected, then.” I detected sarcasm.

We jumped in the car and I connected my diagnostic tools. My laptop confirmed the fault code had been cleared and I gave it to Marco so he could monitor for codes while I drove.

About 15 minutes later, the screen of my laptop showed the magic combination of alpha-numerical characters that I was so excited to see: P0805 – Clutch Position Sensor A Circuit Malfunction – Active.

“There it is. It is a false failure most likely; we will have to send this sensor to our supplier to analyze it,” Marco said.

“What makes you think that?” I challenged him.

“I am looking at the screen and every time you shift, the counter of events (clutchless shifts) increases.”

“Yes, I’ve been shifting without touching the clutch pedal all this time,” I said, proudly.

“Haha, I would have felt and heard if that was the case!”

A quick demonstration, both up and downshifts, and he was now convinced.

Someone who had never heard of non-synchronized transmissions and how they worked had indeed designed these controls and diagnostics.

Gotta love spring, man.

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

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Parts arrive just days before they’re needed. Logistics operate like a living organism. Every vehicle can be built with dozens of combinations. In some plants, multiple models share the same line. The order in which parts are assembled is the result of relentless analysis and testing, all in the name of efficiency.

Engineers work day and night to keep production running. A single minute of unplanned stoppage can mean thousands — sometimes millions — of dollars lost. The automotive industry makes money by building cars fast and cheap at scale. There’s a reason the United States was able to outproduce its enemies during the Second World War. Industrial capacity matters. And much of that capacity was born in automotive plants.

My experience inside a plant, though, was limited — very niche. Throughout my career, I had worked in software and calibration of powertrain modules. In other words, the code that controls engines, transmissions, electric motors. My world lived inside ECUs and CAN messages.

Because of that, my experience centered around a part of the process that many of us quietly fear:

End of Line.

The line never stops for you.

It stops because of you.

And that’s a place no one wants to be.

But those who have been there — who have felt that weight — gain something others don’t. Because when it happens, you enter a strange dimension. Time stretches and compresses at the same time. Sounds distort. Hunger disappears. The constant buzzing, whirring, and shouting of the plant turns into background static. You stop being a person. You become part of the machine.

It started for me on a Friday morning.

It was cold. Walking out of my apartment complex off 12 Mile Road in Southfield, the pavement was dark and icy. It was January. I was in my third week at FCA.

Every morning I woke up excited. Years of hard work had finally earned me a childhood dream: working for an OEM in the Motor City.

I was learning what a Release and Integration engineer in Powertrain Controls actually does — connecting CAN tools, using proprietary diagnostic software, completing DVPs, performing on-board end-of-line tests. My supervisor would teach me the basics, hand me harnesses and guides, and send me into one of the many engineering parking lots to find a test vehicle.

I didn’t have an assigned project yet. No external pressure. My mornings were filled with learning — old Word documents, printed booklets, conversations with engineers who had been doing this longer than I had been driving.

Motivation was through the roof. I was there to learn everything.

During a group meeting in one of the corporate conference rooms across the mall-looking campus, my manager proudly announced that we were about to begin full production of a new product: the 2017 Jeep Compass.

It was going to be a volume seller. Competitive price point. On- and off-road variants. Built in Toluca, Mexico. There was just one problem. The engineer responsible for the program had just moved to another role. He wouldn’t be at the plant to support the launch. At the end of the meeting, my manager paused. He looked worried. Then he looked at me.

“Miguel, you speak Spanish?” he asked in his thick, Russian-like accent — which I later learned was actually Syrian.

“I do, sir.”

“You been to Mexico?”

“I’m Mexican, sir. I’ve been there.”

“Ok. Get a credit card and book flights. I need you at the plant Monday morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

On the outside, I looked calm.

On the inside, I was panicking.

I didn’t even fully understand what my job was yet. I had never booked corporate travel. I had never traveled alone for work. I didn’t know what was expected of me at the plant.

Now I was under pressure.

Sunday morning came fast. I showered, grabbed my bag, and stepped into a foggy, dark, melancholic morning. I started my trusty orange Civic Si — my partner for years — and drove toward the airport.

I cried on the way there.

I was excited. Nervous. Overwhelmed. It felt like I was growing up in real time. Like doors were opening that not everyone gets to walk through. I was grateful — and terrified.

At the plant, I immediately connected with the local engineers and technicians. The hotel was a few blocks away, with a daily shuttle back and forth. The polished concrete floors of the End of Line area shined under bright lights. The smell of assembly grease burning off during first engine start was unforgettable. Technicians in steel-toed boots, white hard hats, yellow vests. Rugged tablets mounted to steering wheels. Cars creeping forward. Controlled chaos.

I loved it.

My first task was a plant tour. My resident engineer, Óscar — a very white Mexican who looked American and spoke English with the most stereotypical Mexican accent — introduced me to the key players.

I saw the whole process: from Body in White to final, where the last electrical tests are performed before Rolls and Alignment. Knowing the local language helped. I made friends. I was learning.

The first vehicles I inspected were the last pilots built before production. Pilots are vehicles used to validate systems and plant processes before customer builds begin.

Two of them had set DTCs — Diagnostic Trouble Codes — so they couldn’t be shipped yet. Another engineer was already looking into it, but I stayed to help.

It was simple. Old software. Quick update. Problem solved.

My first day flew by. Everything seemed smooth.

The next morning, as soon as I walked into End of Line, someone approached me.

“Hey, are you the powertrain guy?”

“Am I?” I thought.

“Yes. I’m from powertrain.”

“Ok. Come with me. Óscar wants to talk to you.”

Óscar looked exhausted. The night before, I had left at 8 p.m. He was still there. It was now 7 a.m., and he was already back.

“He needs to relax,” I thought.

I had no idea what was coming.

“Did you guys make any change to the transmission software for Job 1?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

He took that as an insult.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t know what we’re flashing into these cars at Job 1?”

He was getting upset.

I didn’t even know what Job 1 meant. It’s the official start of production — the moment vehicles go straight to dealerships. Everything must be validated. Certified. Approved.

And I had no idea what software was in those cars. What should have been in them. Or how to check. Or even who to ask. The line had stopped because of us.

Trust between Product Development and Manufacturing is fragile. It’s the oil that keeps that complex machinery moving. Without it, something breaks. And what breaks is always quality.

I was called into a meeting with a Quality Engineering Manager who was furious at powertrain — and I was “the Powertrain Guy.”

I’ve never been asked so many questions I couldn’t answer.

Very calmly, I explained the situation and said I would get the answers as soon as I could.

He looked me in the eyes.

“This is not about what you can do. It’s about what you should have done. Fix the problem before 10 a.m.”

Back in the repair area, I jumped into one of the failed vehicles and opened my laptop, connected my CAN tool and opened the diagnostic software.

And then I realized something worse: my tool didn’t have the right hardware.

I had trained on my supervisor’s setup. I had been issued my own right before the trip, and now it wasn’t working. Imagine what they’d think if they realized I was useless.

Panic mode.

I messaged my supervisor and tried to look busy. His advice was simple: ask for Óscar’s CAN tool. He clearly didn’t understand the atmosphere here, or so I thought.

As expected, Óscar was furious. From his perspective, the guy flown in from Detroit had no idea how to fix the issue that had just stopped his line.

Winning that trust back would not be easy.

At some point, I stopped thinking about my reputation and just focused. I paid attention.

With Óscar’s CAN tool in hand, I began the real work.

Everything I thought I knew about the diagnostic software suddenly felt weak. Those long Michigan afternoons exploring menus and options meant nothing under pressure. It felt like stress had erased my memory. My superpower became appearing calm. If I looked panicked, they wouldn’t trust me. That would put me under more pressure — and my boss under even more. I wanted to build a name for myself. A good one.

Stress wasn’t going to help me get there.

After a few hours working with my supervisor remotely, I finally connected to the vehicle properly. Investigations like this are the bread and butter of Powertrain Controls engineers, but I didn’t know that yet.

Slowly, the fog lifted. And then I saw it.

The vehicles I had helped update the day before? They had old software. So did the first vehicles off the line this morning. When Job 1 began, someone at the plant uploaded the old file — likely from a local computer — thinking it was the latest version.

They had flashed the old calibration back into production cars.

That was it. It was almost embarrassing how simple it was. The pressure evaporated. I could breathe again.

But solving the technical problem wasn’t the hardest part.

By the time the issue was flagged and the line was stopped, dozens of cars had already been built. They were scattered across the 120 acres of the Toluca Assembly Plant, moving through audits and quality checks.

Someone had to track every single one. Reflash them. Verify them. Make sure none slipped through.

No one better for that job than The Powertrain Guy.

We can boil the Plan Phase down into 3 main steps:

1. Calculate all forces acting on the vehicle (worst-case scenario)
2. Estimate Peak Power requirements
3. Estimate Energy requirements for range

1.   Calculate forces acting on a moving vehicle

Worst-case scenarios are those in which the resistance forces are the highest. Most of the time this means full power accelerations. We will estimate all forces acting on the vehicle using first principles and common sense.

In this particular case, I estimate that my worst case given how I plan to use this vehicle would be a 0-60 MPH acceleration in around 10 seconds on a 1% incline with 2 adults, a large dog, and some light cargo.

In order to do this calculation, we need to understand the basic principles of how a force is calculated:

$F = m \cdot a$

Or force is equal to mass times acceleration.

So how much mass are we talking about here? Vehicle + occupants + cargo.

So, let’s estimate:

The stock vehicle weighs around 3500 lbs, but we’re removing the ICE components and replacing them with EV components, so let’s call it a net-neutral swap when considering EV motor, inverters, OBCM, auxiliary components. Batteries are heavy, so let’s add 300lbs for this thought exercise.

Therefore:

Vehicle= 3800 lbs

2 adults = 350 lbs

1 large dog = 80 lbs

Light cargo = 50 lbs

Total mass to move = 4280 lbs (or 1941 kg)

We defined our expected acceleration in this case to be 0–60 MPH in 10 seconds, which would be 0 to 26.8 m/s in 10 seconds. Acceleration is change in velocity divided by change in time, so:

Going back to our Force equation we now know that

We will call this the Tractive Force $(F_{tr})$.

Cool, that’s the force we need to push the vehicle’s mass, but there’s more forms of resistance: rolling, aerodynamic and grade resistance forces also exist.

Rolling Resistance Force

Rolling resistance is a force that opposes motion of a tire. It comes from the internal friction of the rubber molecules when deformed under stress. At highway speeds, the majority of our EV conversion’s losses come from aerodynamic drag. At lower speeds, however, like stop and go traffic, rolling resistance is much more important.

Rolling resistance mainly depends on the vehicle’s weight, and the tire’s coefficient of rolling resistance, the latter we will be estimating based on standard values.

Where:

• $m$ is the mass of the vehicle in $kg$
• $g$ is the acceleration caused by gravity in $\frac{m}{s^2}$
• $C_{rr}$ is the coefficient of rolling resistance

Let’s assume a Coefficient of rolling resistance of 0.0115 on touring tires. (This coefficient comes from published SAE data mostly, but we will not get into specifics in this article.)

Aerodynamic Resistance Force

Aerodynamic Resistance force depends on more factors. Vehicle speed, frontal area, and overall drag coefficient affect it, as well as air density. We can summarize this force in the following equation:

Where:

• $\rho$ = air density in $\frac{kg}{m^3}$
• $C_d$= Coefficient of drag
• $A$= frontal area of vehicle in $m^2$
• $v$ = vehicle speed in $\frac{m}{s}$

In my worst-case scenario, Aerodynamic Resistance will be highest at 60 MPH.

NOTE: Coefficient of drag, frontal area and air density were estimated. Vehicle speed of 60mph was converted to meters per second.

Grade Resistance

When the vehicle is going up an incline, or grade, there is a component that is pulling it back. Think of a car rolling backwards when it’s parked on a hill: that’s the force that the motor has to overcome.

Where:

 $m$i s the mass of the vehicle in $kg$

$g$ is the acceleration caused by gravity in $\frac{m}{s^2}$

$\theta$ is the angle of road incline in radians or degrees

For small inclines we can assume $\sin(\theta) \approx 0.01$.

Therefore:

Total Force

Well, now we have all the forces at the defined worst-case scenario, so what now?

We know the forces that oppose motion: rolling resistance, aerodynamic resistance, grade resistance. We also know the mass of the vehicle and the acceleration we want it to achieve, so that gives us a tractive force.

This means that the motor needs to be able to make enough power to: 1) move the vehicle’s mass at a given acceleration and 2) overcome resistance forces.

This translates into the following summation:

2.   Estimate peak power requirements

Now that we’ve done the hard part and calculated all the forces acting on the vehicle in our worst‑case scenario, the next step is to translate those forces into power. This is where things usually start sounding intimidating, but the logic is actually very simple.

Power is just force applied at a certain speed. If we already know the total force the vehicle needs to overcome, all we need to do is look at how fast the car is moving when that force is highest.

In our case, the worst‑case scenario we defined was accelerating from 0 to 60 mph in 10 seconds on a 1% grade. At the end of that acceleration, the vehicle is traveling at 60 mph, which is 26.8 m/s. That’s the speed we care about for peak power, because aerodynamic drag is highest there and we’re still demanding acceleration.

We already calculated the total force required at that point:

So we can calculate the mechanical power required at the wheels using:

Where:

$P$ = Power in W

$F_{Total}$ = Total Force in N

$v$ = vehicle speed in $\frac{m}{s^2}$

Substituting our values:

That means we need roughly 158 kW of power at the wheels to meet our worst‑case performance target.

But that’s not the whole story. The motor doesn’t send power directly to the ground with zero losses. Between the battery and the wheels, we have losses in the inverter, the motor, the wiring, and whatever drivetrain components we’re using. A reasonable assumption for an EV conversion is around 85% overall efficiency.

When we account for those losses:

This tells us that, in our worst‑case scenario, the battery needs to be capable of delivering around 186 kW of peak power.

I like to add a bit of margin here — not because the math is wrong, but because reality always finds a way to be less clean than the spreadsheet. Temperature, component aging, voltage sag, and real‑world inefficiencies all stack up. Adding a 10% buffer is reasonable and keeps us out of trouble.

That puts our target peak power at roughly:

This number now becomes a key input for the rest of the build:

            •          The motor must be capable of delivering this peak power (even if only for short bursts)

            •          The inverter must be rated to handle it

            •          And the battery pack must be able to supply that power without exceeding current limits (Remember that Power = Voltage * Current)

3.   Estimate Energy requirements

In order for this conversion to be usable in my specific scenario, it has to be able to cover a certain range with a fully charged battery. The amount of energy available for propelling the vehicle is stored in the main high voltage battery, or the propulsion battery. How “big” should this battery be? And what does “big” mean?

Battery capacity is mostly measured in Watt-hours, or Wh. This unit is used because it tells us how much power (Watts) the battery can deliver over time (hour). So, then, how much power do I need this battery to deliver over time?

As you might recall from the original SPARK series, for our Energy Blueprint we can use an estimate of energy consumption per mile for different vehicle types.

Based on this table, I would say this is not quite a Small Convertible, and it might not be quite the Sports Car, but the latter is the category that I believe suits it best for a few reasons. First, it is a coupe, so not quite as light as a Small Convertible, nor quite as heavy as a Large Family Sedan. Due to its older, boxier design when compared to modern Sports Cars, I am going to estimate energy consumption at the higher end of this category around 350 Wh/mile.

But since this is a walkthrough, and I wouldn’t just blindly trust this number, let’s do a slightly more accurate calculation without needing to come up with OEM level simulations.

This vehicle will be used mostly in the highway at a steady state, with some city driving. I estimate longer highway stretches to be my conversion’s most vulnerable use-case since I wouldn’t want to drive 30 miles to run errands and finding out the hard way that I needed more highway range.

City driving with constant stop and start is not my main concern because regenerative braking will help us get some of the energy back into the battery and, in my particular use case, will not constitute the majority of my drive cycles.

How do I get to an energy consumption estimate per mile in highway driving? First, I need to understand the forces acting on the vehicle in this particular condition. For one, there’s no acceleration: highway driving is estimating constant speed, on flat ground. Constant speed means no acceleration. Flat ground means no grade. This means the only forces we need to overcome are resistance forces: Aerodynamic, and Rolling, both of which we calculated in the first section, but with one caveat: I want to cruise at 75 MPH, not 60 MPH. Using the same equations from section 1 we get the following forces:

Force times velocity is power. We know the force acting on the vehicle, and we know the speed:

This represents power at the wheels. What about power from the battery? Divide this by 0.85 to account for losses (efficiency).

Considering that Power is Energy over Time, and that at 75MPH we cover 75 miles in 1 hour, along with some other first principles magic that I won’t detail here, we get that:

I was close enough in estimating around 350 Wh per mile, but now we know with a bit more certainty.

In the Select walkthrough article I defined my range expectation to be 60 miles of combined driving. I will now estimate the energy required for 60 miles of constant highway driving, and will add a 20% buffer for city driving, passing, grades, extra electrical loads like lights, audio, cabin conditioning. I will also add 10% for lithium battery protection since these batteries shouldn’t be charged nor discharged fully.

Now the total 30% buffer:

Rounding, I would be happy with a 30 kWh battery pack for this application.

What now?

The energy estimation above is just the starting point for selecting a battery pack. We now know the energy we need to meet our goals with this conversion, but size may vary due to other factors. For example, we might find that the discharge rate of the available battery packs in the market (used or new) is not enough to meet our peak power requirement with the size we calculated. For example, a battery pack available in the market might not meet the peak current discharge to achieve our 204.6 kW power. In this hypothetical scenario, we have the option to look for another battery pack with a higher C rate, or we might add more modules to the readily available ones to increase the peak current capacity, even if the pack ends up being bigger than 30 kWh.

I will get into more details about motor and battery pack selection for this conversion in future articles of this walkthrough series.

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

Cold air, clear skies and sunlight. My morning workout about to start, taste of cherry…

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End of Line – A story

March 15, 2026 1 Comment

Ah, the beauty of an assembly plant. Cars roll out by the minute, synchronized with…

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PLAN – Designing an EV conversion from scratch: a SPARK walk through

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The industrial warehouse where we sat was furnished to resemble a corporate office. Technically, that’s what it was. Desks, chairs, bad lighting, the quiet hum of HVAC fighting a losing battle against winter. For eight hours or more we would sit there, minding our business, responding to emails, calling into meetings.

To most people involved, trips like this were fun, or “okay” at best. A change of scenery. A break from routine. To me, they have always been dreadful.

Driving eight hours north in the dead of winter, just to sit in a warehouse that felt hollow and lonely. That’s what these trips were. The kind of place where time doesn’t move forward so much as it pools.

Eight in the morning and five in the afternoon were the only moments that mattered. Not because of clocking in or out—you never really clock out on trips like these—but because those were the moments when something actually happened.

Around five Ram 1500 trucks sat inside industrial freezers at minus forty degrees Celsius. They waited there, motionless, for eight to twelve hours at a time.

At eight sharp, we walked into the freezers with laptops in hand, wrapped in layers meant to delay—not prevent—the cold. Breathing was uncomfortable. The air was painfully dry, biting, unnatural. The smell of unburnt fuel from attempts past always seemed to linger, as if the room remembered every start, every stall, every crank.

The sight wasn’t comforting either. The space felt smaller than it should have, the walls closer than they looked. There was a subtle sense of panic in that realization.

Now the show began. Laptops plugged in. Freezer doors open to drive the vehicles off.

At the push of a button, the 3.6-liter Pentastar V6 engines turned slower than they normally do. The sound of struggling starter motors filled the air, alongside the loud hum of the freezing equipment,

If our work had been done right, the engines fired immediately, climbing into a high idle—just as high as emissions testing would allow—defiant against the cold. Otherwise, back to the warehouse to look at data and fix our mistakes.

“See you at five.”

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

Cold air, clear skies and sunlight. My morning workout about to start, taste of cherry…

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End of Line – A story

March 15, 2026 1 Comment

Ah, the beauty of an assembly plant. Cars roll out by the minute, synchronized with…

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PLAN – Designing an EV conversion from scratch: a SPARK walk through

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Now that we’ve defined what we want this conversion to accomplish, we can start working…

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Sure, internet warriors and some corners of the media love to dunk on them. But here’s the truth: EV powertrains make a lot of sense in certain builds — especially in vehicles that were never that exciting to begin with. You know the ones. The cars that always felt like they were missing something.

That’s where the SPARK methodology comes in. This methodology was developed to help guide you step by step through the thinking and planning process of an EV conversion. We love wrenching, doing, and making, but I believe in sitting down and planning everything first to see if it makes sense.

Let’s walk through an example in which I will attempt to capture my train of thought in writing.

Select

The most important step in any automotive creation process is defining what we want the vehicle to do. The answer to this might be as simple as “I want it to look cool”, or it could be as complex as “I want it to reach a peak acceleration of 5.36m/s² while carrying a payload of 180 kg on a 1% grade AND look cool”. The more clearly we define our needs, the better the results will be, so the idea behind this phase is to come up with Engineering Decisions: a group of parameters that will translate into our basic requirements for this conversion.

High Level definition of what the vehicle should be

Let’s start simple and high level:

This EV conversion will be used for weekend cruising around town only, and maybe as a commuter every now and then. My commute is short and cruising around town is normally less than 20 miles total, but I’d love to have a significant buffer there, so having a real world combined total range of 60 miles would suffice. The vehicle should be able to drive in highways and city traffic, so top speed should slightly exceed the legal highway speed limit, let’s say around 85 mph. I don’t really need it to be quick, but the quickness of a small “hot hatch” or a sporty sedan would be great, so a 0-60 mph time that matches that of a stock FG2 Civic Si would be ideal. My wife, my dog and I would be the only passengers, and we don’t normally carry much cargo so no special request there. This would be a 3-season car: spring, summer and fall, it’d be stored during the winter since I live in Michigan and I don’t plan to use it on such cold and snowy weather. Since I have a level 2 charger at home, I would need the car to be able to take a J1772 connector and charge overnight.

Now let’s get more specific here and categorize the Engineering Decisions we need to make. The table below shows the Categories, Requirements and Engineering Decisions based on my text above.

These are objective parameters, though. Many types of vehicles could potentially meet these requirements and do just fine. We could achieve these goals with a Jeep Wrangler, a Toyota Matrix or a Ford Excursion conversion. So, this is where it gets personal, this is where we give it our touch.

In this particular example, I decided to use a 1990 Oldsmobile Toronado Trofeo as the donor car. I wrote a short article a while back, where I mentioned this car before, but here’s why it made the cut for this SPARK exercise:

It’s got that underrated ’90s futuristic styling, a front-wheel-drive layout that simplifies packaging, a surprisingly comfortable interior (this was peak Luxury Coupe Era, after all), and — most importantly — a forgettable 3.8L V6 that dragged the whole car down into the depths of mediocrity. That powertrain never lived up to the rest of the car’s ambitions, which makes it a perfect candidate for a second life as an EV.

Now that we’ve defined the purpose and design intent for this build, it’s time to turn those Engineering Decisions into real-world numbers. That’s what we’ll do in the next article – Plan – where we go from an idea, something that could even resemble a short conversation with a friend, to actual numbers so we can later select the components to power our EV conversion.

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

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End of Line – A story

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Stalls – a story

January 15, 2026 No Comments

It was a chilly Pennsylvania morning. Jamie was late to work again; he forgot to…

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“Up you go,” Jamie said, as he sunk his right foot while his left guided the clutch pedal back, very slowly, to its resting position. “No Cigar” by Millencollin was playing through the speakers, loud as it should. The HVAC was blasting cold air still; the engine coolant that should warm up the cabin wasn’t ready to do so just yet. A sudden jolt, a “jerk” if you will, surprised Jamie. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath. Brakes. Clutch in. Start button pressed. No luck. Numerous attempts failed and 15 minutes later, the path was clear: tow truck.

Turns out Jamie wasn’t the only one. 4 more cases like this happened on that cold November throughout the country, 2 more also in Pennsylvania.

“Make sure you document software part numbers, build dates and sales codes.” My coach was too excited about my very first problem-solving Green Belt project.

“I’ll send you the ‘IS—IS NOT’ template. Work on it on your own and we can review later,” she said.

I was used to investigations like this one. 3 years in Powertrain Controls had made me quite competent, at least that’s how I felt. “Most likely user error,” I thought to myself as I loaded the email attachment containing information on all reported cases until that moment. You have to understand, this was America in 2019; less people than ever knew how to drive a manual transmission car properly, and it wouldn’t be the first time a customer couldn’t get used to the clutch pedal feel, stalled, and blamed us. Hell, this was so common even among engineers, that I was ready to dismiss the report as a waste of time.

Those 3 cases in Pennsylvania were very interesting to me, though. Why 3 in the same week? These vehicles had been in service for a few months now. No reported dealership visits. All using the same Engine Control Module (ECM) software part number. Similarly equipped and all sold in the same area with a few weeks’ separation. Build dates were close, but not too close; they were not built on the same day or even week.

I can’t remember specific details of the non-Pennsylvania cases; all I know is that weather had also been slightly colder than usual in those places.

The IS—IS NOT exercise wasn’t conclusive. This tool helps the problem solver lay out all known facts about the event being investigated (IS) and contrast them with things that could be true, but are not (IS NOT). “The affected vehicles had manual transmissions (IS), but they could have had 9 or 6-speed automatics (IS NOT). What’s different in manuals that was potentially causing the issue?” This is the question that, when answered, would justify my salary.

By day 3 of the investigation more reported cases were piling up in my email inbox, and my supervisor and I started to realize this wasn’t only user error. Multiple meetings with various other teams yielded nothing useful. “Too many cooks in the kitchen,” I thought. But I had an advantage: my own manual-transmission 2019 Jeep Compass.

Powertrain Triage Engineer was my new official title. I was very proud of having been accepted in such a prestigious organization. Prestigious to me, at least. Most everyone else, inside and outside of the group, thought of it as “just another job.” Nah, not to me. I’ve always been a dreamer, and experience has taught me how to leverage my dreams into motivation. To me, I was now part of an elite engineering unit whose task was to fix critical issues no one else was able to. This was the SEAL Team Six of Powertrain Controls.

Armed with my childish curiosity and my newfound identity, I grabbed my CAN tool and headed out to the parking lot, where my Compass was waiting for me, anxious, excited, curious. Or maybe she was just there, an inanimate object. But that wouldn’t be as fun. Either way, the next couple of hours would be an exercise in patience, focus, and faith. Stall after stall, I had faith that I’d be able to replicate the issue: stall, crank, no start.

“Fuck yeah!” I yelled. Finally: replication. Once. No idea how, and I couldn’t do it again, so I felt frustrated. But for a hot minute there, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. This proved to be a very valuable lesson that shaped my career: do not jump to conclusions.

You see, cold engines in cold weather behave very differently than warm engines in warm weather. This detail I overlooked. At least partially. I was confident that cold weather was playing a role here, but it wasn’t as simple as that. All vehicles are extensively tested at various temperatures, from –40 °C to 55 °C. All kinds of driving maneuvers in extreme conditions and in-between expose engineers to how the systems of a vehicle behave, and corrections are made when needed. This did not look like an oversight.

Most of my testing was done, by definition, on a warm engine. Consecutive starts, stalls, restart; warmed the engine up. Not the first couple of starts, though: the engine was cold as it had been sitting, untouched, for a few hours.

On a gasoline engine, fuel is atomized to improve combustion efficiency. More fuel droplets mean more contact area between the flame and gasoline, so better combustion results. Port-injected engines, like the 2.4L Tigershark on the Jeep Compass, atomize fuel by injecting it on a closed, hot intake valve. It vaporizes just milliseconds before the valve opens, and is then sucked into the cylinder by the vacuum created by the downward motion of the piston. Cold valves do not vaporize fuel so the ECM needs to compensate by injecting considerably more fuel until the engine warms up and proper fuel atomization occurs.

“I can only replicate it in the morning or after work,” I told my coach, “so I know it’s temperature related.”

“What’s next, then?” she asked, challenging me to think harder, more methodically, like the training had taught me.

“Air, fuel, spark,” I replied. Her gaze told me she didn’t know which one to tackle first, and neither did I. But data will always hold the answers.

She is a very jealous, borderline shiesty character, this “data.” Though plural of datum, I envision “data” as a mysterious entity with whom the problem-solving dance takes place. Once you “have” her, you have got to know some moves to read her. Sometimes she takes multiple forms throughout an investigation; maybe one holds the answer, maybe one holds clues and maybe one holds nothing. It’s part of the beauty of problem-solving to learn, eventually, to identify them and seduce them through this dance.

“Air, fuel, spark” is one of those phrases you never forget. Everyone has phrases like this, but not everyone feels a strong connection to them. I do. “Air, fuel, spark” is, in essence, what a gasoline Otto-cycle engine needs to fire, and therefore, produce power. But, like most things in my life, it has a deeper meaning: method, order, control. This phrase reminds me that in most things, we can understand how to solve a problem by observing and analyzing what’s needed for something to occur and contrasting it with what we currently have. The delta between those two scenarios is our answer.

Air was easy to confirm. MAP sensor readings were available and looked normal. Vacuum was present during operation, back to barometric after a stall.

Spark was slightly trickier. Not because of difficulties acquiring data. More so because this wasn’t a binary question. Yes or no was easy; spark was being reported. Was the ECM commanding and actuating spark plugs to fire at the right time? What even is the RIGHT time? I was no specialist, so I decided to rule it out, for now.

Fuel. The fountain of life for combustion engines. This is yet another non-binary question, since confirming the presence of fuel was very easy. You could smell it. This was a key finding. In modern cars, you are not supposed to smell much fuel out of the exhaust, since excess hydrocarbons are regulated by emissions standards. Was it too much fuel injected, or improper combustion?

Stalling a manual transmission car is easy. Not this one. The little 2.4L Tigershark held on for dear life more than any other small engine I’d ever stalled. That wasn’t the case with V8s, for example, those have plenty of torque so you never feel them struggling; they either stall or they don’t, no drama. Older engines don’t have a lot of drama either; they don’t even try to stay alive.

To my keen or obsessive eye, this was strange. I was but a rookie in this industry so I couldn’t tell if such a dramatic struggle to stall a 180-ish horsepower 4-cylinder engine was normal.

Controls engineers are a weird kind, or at least here at FCA, or Fiat-Chrysler Automobiles. They design the control strategy, the “logic” of our control software. “IF the temperature of sensor 1 exceeds a certain value, then turn the fan on!” That kind of logic. Our software is a compendium of interconnected pieces of logic that constantly monitor what’s going on in the real world (inputs) so actuators can be commanded to make changes (outputs). Thus, controls engineers are extremely knowledgeable people, but mostly in their particular area; they are specialists. On the contrary, I was, and still am, a generalist; I hold just enough knowledge of many different areas that I blend, mix and use to solve bigger problems: system-level problems.

I was surprised to know that none of the controls engineers I asked knew if there was a feature in our software to prevent stalls on manual transmission cars. Automatics do have it, but no one seemed capable of confirming its existence for the manual transmission Compass.

A different breed altogether, calibration engineers tend to be more of a specialist-generalist. My calibration engineer was quick to confirm the feature does exist, and he personally calibrated it to dump more fuel in the cylinders when the engine speed falls under a certain threshold with the intent of ‘keeping it alive’. Ah! That explains the “struggle” I felt when trying to stall the engine; more fuel = more torque, at least in this case.

This detail, along with my suspicion of a cold engine being related, led me to the golden egg: replication. Now I had to feed the goose hoping to get more. As you might recall, the issue was not the stall per se, but the inability of the engine to restart after a certain stall. That “certain stall” I had just replicated. So how do I replicate it quickly? Well, my theory was that there was more fuel than needed in the cylinders, so if I had a way of giving the engine air and spark only, I’d be able to confirm my theory: if it fires, we know there was fuel in it already.

Luckily, our software had such a feature built in. Cleverly called “Clear Flood Maneuver,” triggering it would obviously attempt to clear a fuel flood in the cylinders by only allowing spark, but not fuel, into the cylinders. It fired right up and ran for a few seconds, until the gasoline inside was fully burnt. I was ecstatic!

“This is great!” my coach said. “But… what is this telling us? This does not tell me how to fix it.”

She was right. I only proved 2 things: 1) the issue does exist, and 2) it is related to excess fuel in the combustion chamber. Now what? Time to dance again, but this time I did not have a partner; I needed data of the issue happening, which was easy to get.

As one gets closer to the root cause, those dances become easier. More fun at times but less challenging; they feel more familiar since by now, the issue and the physics behind it are better understood, less of a mystery.

Data clearly showed injectors dumping gasoline due to “stall protection,” causing the feeling of the engine struggling to continue running; no surprise there. Upon my first restart attempt, however, something surprising happened: even more fuel was dumped during cranking. Confused at first, I went back to talking to myself. “There’s already a significant amount of fuel in there; why are we adding more?” It made no sense. Remember how cold engines behave? Valves are cold. Gasoline will not be properly atomized. We need more fuel to ensure combustion.

Well, turns out that I was right. Trying the same “stall protection” maneuver on a fully warm engine showed that roughly the same amount of “excess” fuel was being injected in an attempt to prevent a stall when compared to the cold engine data. Since I was able to actually cause a stall, we know that most of that fuel remains inside, unburnt. The difference was that I could very easily restart the engine normally the next time I pressed the START button; no Clear Flood Maneuver needed.

There are moments in life that, in retrospect, or to an external observer, seem mundane, boring. Some of these moments, to those who experience them, can feel enormous, life-changing.

Novels are written around moments like this, history has been shaped by them, the elderly won’t stop talking about them to the young ones, no matter how bored everyone looks when forced to listen to the same boring, seemingly innocent and unimportant stories.

Those data, or “that data,” my final dancing partner of this investigation, froze this moment in my mind. Unimportant as it may look to the uninvolved, looking at colored lines in my screen confirmed that all my sacrifice to get to where I was, finishing school, moving to another country, pushing through all the obstacles, had been worth it: I was really following my passion, not just a job.

“On a fully warm engine, the start fuel multiplier is 1. On a cold engine, this multiplier is 1.3, 30% more fuel injected into an already flooded cylinder makes spark ignition impossible,” I concluded. My results, presented to senior managers and calibration engineers, was convincing and applauded by many.

One of the calibration engineers, though, an old, experienced and particularly grumpy member of the crowd was not happy with my conclusions. It meant more work for him.

“Well, welcome to calibration, I guess,” he said in a very ironic, borderline mocking tone.

To me, that was a compliment. I was finally entering the big leagues.

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

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But somewhere between the soulful and the soulless lies a third category—vehicles that almost had something to say. Cars that were close. And often, what held them back was the powertrain. In these cases, an EV conversion isn’t just a performance upgrade—it’s a second chance at identity.

In this article, I want to share five vehicles that I believe would benefit immensely from going electric—not because of speed, torque, or efficiency, but because an EV swap would finally bring their original design ethos to life. We’ve talked before about how EV conversions can be emotional, not just logical. This is that idea, taken to the next level. NOTE: this list is not in any particular order, so this is not a “top 5” list. Just a list.

1. Geo Tracker

The Geo Tracker was, in my opinion, one of those vehicles that just looks cool. Its cartoon-y looks, relatively decent (for the price) off-road capability, and its low price point made for a very interesting value proposition back in the 80s and 90s. However, its powertrain was just there, existing. Serving a purpose, sure, and getting the job done, but it was just not something that takes your breath away, nor something you wake up thinking about. With a modest EV powertrain, and a combined range of around 80 miles this would be a very interesting thing to drive around town, or maybe take to trails nearby. Immediate pedal response, loads of torque and a quiet ride with the top down would make this a very interesting weekend cruiser.

2. Chrysler 300

Many iterations of this vehicle have won the hearts and minds of a lot of people. Since its reintroduction in the 2000s, we’ve seen this affordable luxury sedan boast a decent V6, a brawny 5.7L V8 and even a delightful 6.4L V8. Though the V6 was a decent powerplant, with its latest iteration producing close to 300 hp, I personally believe an EV powertrain would complement this vehicle’s luxurious aura perfectly. Smooth suspension, comfortable interior and an exterior design that sets it apart from the “lesser” sedans of its class, an EV powertrain would give a base model Chrysler 300 what it lacked from the factory: torque, unparalleled smoothness and a technological touch that the V6 just couldn’t provide.

3. Ford Escort ZX2

This, to me, was a very interesting product proposition in the 90s and 2000s. The reason is simple: a compact, 2 door coupe, that was not trying too hard to be sporty, luxurious nor aggressive, that delivered decent fuel economy, interior space, and features for every day commuting. I just love cars like this because of their uninteresting nature, yet quirky design, that delivered nothing more than what they promised, but seemed to have something more. Though very far from a sportscar, I believe the torquey nature of an EV powertrain would elevate the experience of this “sporty economy coupe” to a very decent autocross platform. Make no mistake, though: a ton of power on this platform would, in my humble opinion, ruin the experience. But with a decent amount of power, immediate and smooth torque delivery, and probably a realistic range of 20 to 30 miles to keep battery mass on the lower side, this would become a VERY interesting autocross rig. You would definitely have to tow it to the event and back, and maybe keep a generator handy for charging it between sessions, but fun isn’t always simple!

4. Oldsmobile Toronado Trofeo

I think this is my favorite proposition of this list because of a very simple reason: its futuristic design. Now, think of this vehicle in terms of the design ethos of the era, and what the vehicle was supposed to represent to General Motors in their product portfolio at the time: the luxury coupe class was booming, and luxury has many different meanings. For some brands it was chrome and leather, for others it was size, presence and power, but Oldsmobile chose a different route: technology. With its CRT Graphic Control Center to control everything from audio, HVAC and trip computer, its plush interior, and its aerodynamic design with American presence, the Toronado Trofeo was appealing to people interested in “the future”. I love this idea, but I do not love its 3.8L V6. Not from its specs on paper, not from how it drives, and not from how it fits into this idea of “the future”. Plus, its Front Wheel Drive configuration was definitely not adding to the experience of a driver’s car. So what about this beautiful futuristic car, reimagined with a decent amount of power (not too much since it’s FWD… we can talk about why in a different article), a range of about 100 miles, and the smooth pedal experience only an electric machine can provide?

5. Chevrolet Astro Van

The utilitarian addition to give this list a solid foundation. “Why would you want an electric Astro Van?” you ask. Because why the fuck not. Tons of space for batteries and cargo, enough space for a powerful DC motor, and a platform that can take a beating, this would be a great EV conversion to either haul things around town, or do crazy burnouts, or maybe take to the drag strip, or maybe even off-road. I think this conversion can do it all, other than a road course or autocross… unless…?

Look, after all, EV conversions don’t make a lot of sense for the everyday enthusiast, nor should they. Human beings have something driving us to create. We create life, we create poetry, we create visual and auditive art that fills our hearts. This right here is creating. Using our hands and brains to meditatively put things together to create something. It can be abstract art, it can be building a table no one needed, crafting the most useless coffee mug from mud… or slapping a Tesla rear drive unit onto a 90s Astro Van, but creating something is part of our nature. Try creating something every time you can!

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

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End of Line – A story

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Stalls – a story

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What makes a car engaging, then? I think the industry has figured it out, as I’ll try to convey in this article, but making a modern enthusiast car isn’t as simple as it might seem to some people. Regulations, overall market behavior and safety standards have become priority, and rightfully so, in order to protect consumers, provide them with the most value, and, yes, create shareholder value. As ironic as that last statement might seem, it’s true: a corporation that sells vehicles at a mass scale cannot survive if investors don’t put their money into it, and they won’t unless they get more money back than what they originally put in, right? That’s shareholder value!

So, what should an enthusiast do? Well, I think some OEMs are doing the best they can to provide enthusiasts with great products even under today’s market and regulatory constraints (there are many examples of this, thankfully), and some other OEMs even exist only to provide these types of experiences (Ferrari?), but I think us DIY enthusiasts can and should take control of some of our desire for engagement.

What makes a car engaging?

Mechanical Feedback

One of the most engaging aspects of driving a car is the feedback you get from the machine. From the accelerator pedal response, to the mechanical sound and feel of shifting gears on a manual transmission, to the weight of the steering wheel on different surfaces and driving conditions, these characteristics make the vehicle feel special. If you’ve ever heard that BMWs have a very numb steering feel, then you understand what we’re talking about here.

Sound

The most important aspect of an engaging car is, hands down, the sound it makes. Or sounds. Exhaust note is one of the most important aspects in an ICE-powered car, but it isn’t the only thing. Tire noise, suspension sounds and even certain cabin rattles make the experience more or less enjoyable. Engine sound, apart from exhaust note, is also critical. I make the distinction between engine sound and exhaust because it’s not always about a loud exhaust, or a particular exhaust note, it’s also the rotating components, firing order, and intake sound. My Civic Si had a horrible exhaust note, but the engine’s sound was very enjoyable, particularly when that VTEC kicked in.  

Vehicle Dynamics

The notion of old, long vehicles driving like boats is not that far-fetched. They do drive as though floating on water. Body roll was crazy, squatting and diving under acceleration seemed excessive, but comfort was unmatched. On the other hand, a modern Mini Cooper is like driving an oversized go kart: nimble, quick to turn, and planted under most driving conditions. The characteristics that make up what we call ‘Vehicle Dynamics’ help define the vehicle’s mission, and with it, its character. You wouldn’t want a high-powered car that drives like a boat, unless you’re into Hellcats.  

Emotional Connection

This is what it all boils down to for me: emotional connection. I’ve had the privilege of owning different cars throughout my lifetime, from cheap shit boxes to decent “luxury sedans”, but the ones I have enjoyed the most possess certain characteristics that make them very special to me. For one, the vehicle has to be part of my life: road trips, adventures and friendships are made, shared or experienced aplenty with or around this machine. The second most important is working on it myself. Whether maintenance or repairs, the effort, care and frustration involved in keeping the car in mint condition helps me bond with it. I don’t develop this emotional attachment to a car whenever it only serves as A to B transportation, has a warranty, and needs nothing from me.

An engaging EV conversion

Making an EV conversion engaging requires manipulating the things we talked about above in such a way that it becomes an activity to drive it, not an afterthought. We want to make it more like riding a horse: it requires skill to read into the horse’s behavior, to know what it might do next, to know how to act such that it in turn reacts in an expected manner. EVs are so advanced and so toned down in this regard that we know we can step on the accelerator pedal and it goes, step on the brakes and it stops, engage some level of autonomous driving and it will basically take us where we’re going. That is not the case with true engaging vehicles.

We want to hear the motor spinning, we want to hear some tire noise, to feel some steering feedback. The accelerator pedal is not only a control surface for altering vehicle speed, it’s also a portal into weight distribution, traction feel, and sometimes unexpected behaviors that require your full attention. Shifting gears is optional, but highly rewarding in many cases. Even quick shifting automatic transmissions have a high level of engagement under the right circumstances. A car might need to be uncomfortable in order to feel engaging. Maybe Recaro bucket seats are not ideal for long road trips, but they do a hell of a job for late night city cruising with the boys. Engagement comes from NOT being able to drive a car if you’re texting or looking for the right song on your Apple CarPlay deck; the car should demand your full attention.

So, with these thoughts I would encourage you to think deep about this question: how do we make an EV conversion that’s engaging? Converting a car is one thing and that is the most engaging part of this whole community, but once it’s converted, how do we make it remarkably fun?

NOTE: There’s also a fine line between engaging, DIY and unsafe. We do NOT want to surf that line. We do not want engagement to come from the adrenaline of not knowing if the car will stop, or if the car might catch on fire. This isn’t a rally race in the 70s. We’re talking about a vehicle that might be driven on public roads, with innocent bystanders that do not care about your enthusiasm but about making it home to their families. So please do not come here with those “adrenaline makes it fun” or “unreliable is engaging” bullshit stories. That’s the equivalent of “street takeovers are car culture”. They are not. Be a responsible DIYer, please.

Press clutch to shift gears – a story

April 15, 2026 No Comments

Cold air, clear skies and sunlight. My morning workout about to start, taste of cherry…

Read More

End of Line – A story

March 15, 2026 1 Comment

Ah, the beauty of an assembly plant. Cars roll out by the minute, synchronized with…

Read More

PLAN – Designing an EV conversion from scratch: a SPARK walk through

March 1, 2026 No Comments

Now that we’ve defined what we want this conversion to accomplish, we can start working…

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Cold Trips – a story

February 14, 2026 No Comments

Boring. Dark. Cold. The industrial warehouse where we sat was furnished to resemble a corporate…

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Select – A SPARK walkthrough :Designing an EV conversion from scratch

January 31, 2026 No Comments

Ah, EVs. Magical to some, blasphemous to others. Few topics divide the automotive world quite…

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Stalls – a story

January 15, 2026 No Comments

It was a chilly Pennsylvania morning. Jamie was late to work again; he forgot to…

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I know that the previous paragraph sounds like a mouthful, so if you’re still reading, here’s my point: innovation is not owned by corporations. Corporations CAN and DO innovate, but nothing stops you from trying it yourself, not even in the EV world, where technology seems so complex and overwhelming.

What does innovation have to do with EV conversions? EV conversions are nothing new, the technology has existed for longer than we think. But innovation is triggered by exploring, playing and trying new things. Tinkering.

Build a life of fulfilment

Kids play, animals play, and adults should try it to. Playing is the act of exploring our environments, and it’s a powerful tool to learn new things. In adulthood, it could even be a way of leading a happier life.

Fulfilment is something we all strive for, but not everyone understands what it might mean for themselves, so here’s a quick tip: if you’re reading this blog, most likely you like to build things, and maybe that is part of your life’s fulfilment.

Going back to the first article of our SPARK methodology series, you might recall that I suggested EV conversions are a form of expression, more so than a strictly useful, purpose-driven activity. In most industrialized nations today, an electric vehicle can be bought from the used market at a relatively affordable price in comparison with some of their ICE counterparts. So building an EV conversion for the sole purpose of transportation does not make the most sense (in most cases!).

So why would anyone build an EV conversion?

Building things makes us feel joy. It makes us feel capable, useful, and fulfilled.

When someone builds new things and uses them, there’s this feeling of “hey look what I did!”. I think it’s an instinct, possibly an evolutionary trait that causes amusement, joy, hope, which we want to share with the world. How many times have we fixed something seemingly insignificant and wanted to share it with our significant other, friends, or family? Or even social media!

Have you ever searched YouTube for tutorials on how to fix things? (Rhetorical question, I doubt anyone still reading this blog would answer ‘no’) These tutorials are very easy to find for most things; there’s always a person very proud of what they did trying to share it with others. This is no coincidence; I strongly believe it is evolution unfolding right in front of our eyes. Maybe it’s a tool to spread knowledge, generate a sense of community, or create hope in others that things can be better if we put the effort.

Imperfection as a tool

Building things = fulfilment. But what should we aim to build? Honestly, whatever you feel like. But keep it imperfect.

OEM’s need to keep things very efficient, precise and controlled in order to replicate the product at a mass scale. Corporations have mastered the art of producing seemingly identical products at a scale our ancestors would have never imagined, and that has changed the world. The USA won World War II mainly thanks to the military industrial complex. Many people have access to food, shelter, clothing, and medicine thanks to mass scale production. We have cars to love thanks to it too.

But we tinkerers don’t have to do that. We don’t need to be super precise with every little measurement, material or calculation. Imperfection is part of what makes things interesting to build: how many trips to the hardware store does it take to install a supercharger? Or replace a clutch? Things sometimes won’t go well, and for certain projects, it’s for the better.

I advocate for imperfect projects even though I make a living trying to achieve the ever-elusive idea of ‘perfection’ at an OEM. The reason why I do this is simple: I see projects, such as EV conversions, as a form of fulfilment; something that helps me translate my knowledge, skills and passion for learning into a tangible (and hopefully drivable) object. It makes me feel like playing with Legos or building cities out of carboard boxes for my Hot Wheels cars. It causes frustration that can be overcome by learning.

That’s why I think imperfection is a tool. Use it.

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“Energy efficiency”, “lower emissions”, “greenhouse gases”, these are some of the terms that have been mainstream in the automotive world for decades now. Since the Arab oil embargo of the 70s, the importance of lower fuel consumption, and lower tailpipe emissions has been at the forefront of powertrain design. However, I feel that things drastically changed in the mid-2010s when the industry and the consumer base started noticing the advantages of electrification: lower fuel consumption, lower tailpipe emissions, and in some cases, even better drivability.

Hybrids stopped being “cars for hippies” (Toyota Prius?) and became interesting value propositions. They also became part of the enthusiast community in some cases, like the affordable and efficient, manual transmission hybrid Honda CRZ, or the beautiful and impressive Acura NSX (ahead of its time, IMO).

But while this was happening, we (the automotive industry) were programming our consumer base to expect more, and we did that by making things more complex. Plug-in Hybrid Electric Vehicles (PHEVs) are an engineering marvel, for example. A vehicle that can be driven in all-electric mode, hybrid, or ICE only? You have 2 powertrains in one car! Sounds amazing, and it is in many particular use cases. But the majority of our efforts were put into making complex systems reliable, affordable, and efficient. We gave people what they wanted, which is very important, but some of the essence went away.

I’m not saying it’s only because of OEMs that the essence of automotive brilliance was affected, it’s a mixture of market behavior, government policies and corporate dynamics. But the fact is that emotional products are not as common as they were. People were more in touch with their cars in the past, owner’s manuals taught you how to test a spark plug, adjust your valves or replace certain components for servicing. Today owner’s manuals give you the bare minimum information about servicing your car since OEMs prefer consumers take them in to the dealership for service. And more so for hybrids and EVs; the technology relies so much on controls systems and software that servicing at home becomes more of a problem to both consumer and OEM.

I personally love hybrids. I also love EVs. I also love ICE. I’m not saying what the industry is doing is wrong: I am passionate about the industry and I believe the complexity is needed and justified.

What I’m trying to say here is: think of EVs beyond their efficiencies. Think of them as a new form of transportation that could be as emotion-driven as the automotive creations of the past. They will not replace ICE in that regard. No EV could possibly elicit the emotion of hearing a V12 scream, or a cammed-V8 cold start.

But they don’t have to! EVs can cause their own emotions. Speed, acceleration, quietness: maybe these are not the characteristics that will inspire a generation, but there might be some others. Range and instant torque are great, but that’s not what motivates me to drive one.

The smoothness of torque, the feel I get from regen, the ability of stopping overnight during a long road trip, connecting it to a charger and waking up with “a full tank”. That’s what I love about my own EV. But that’s just me. And that doesn’t replace the rumble of my V8, or the mechanical feel of a manual transmission, or the pride I get from maintaining my old carbureted sport bike. I don’t want it to.

I encourage you to pay attention to EVs from a different light: look at what they give you beyond efficiencies. Make a list, maybe even share it here. It might be hard for the enthusiast community to think of new forms in which EVs can connect to our emotional selves since we grew up wrenching, changing oil and listening to different exhaust notes and vibrations. But let’s give it a try. EVs are here to stay, anyway.  

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