E.V. Ride-Sharing Programs Bring Cleaner Transportation to Low-Income Communities

Three times a week, Herminia Ibarra makes her way in the morning to a cluster of glittering electric cars that line the dusty alleyway that used to be a diesel repair shop. Out of 5 Chevrolets her Volt, 3 Tesla Ys, 2 Volkswagen e-Golfs and 1 her BMW i3, she’s always on the lookout for a favorite. A red bolt set up with Bluetooth. The EV drives two of her regular customers, retired farm workers, down a two-lane road to a dialysis appointment 32 miles away.

Mr. Ibarra is a term used to describe the “lighter”, a practice of neighbors who provide cars to local residents in need. The store, with the Mexican flag wrapped around its staircase, is the hub of Green Lighteros, an EV ridesharing business in Huron, California. ing. .

At the wheel of Red Bolt, Ibarra is doing what its proponents call “mobility justice.” This is an effort to address the reality that low-income communities, which are most affected by pollution from diesel trucks, highways and other sources, are severely affected. Access to zero-emission vehicles is minimized.

Enter the green Raiteros. Born out of a lack of public transportation, environmental concerns, and stubborn determination, the program was led by the Latin American Equity Advocacy and Policy Institute, a nonprofit founded by Huron Mayor Ray Leon.

Similar efforts are underway in other states, such as California and New York, and there is a growing push for subsidies for EV programs in Washington, DC. Under the bipartisan Infrastructure Act, the federal government is providing $700 million in subsidies to local governments to install charging infrastructure in underserved areas.

The goal of all these efforts is to make cleaner transport available to more people in low-income areas. In Huron, 30 charging stations strategically placed around the city have resulted in local efforts, among other projects aimed at reducing the area’s carbon footprint.

Surrounded by vast acres of garlic and tomato groves, Huron is a small farming town in the “heart of the valley,” as the signs on the highway leading into town indicate. Of Huron’s 6,200 inhabitants, 95% Latino, about 50% Latino immigrants. Huron is also too remote for Uber and Lyft service, even though it’s only 80 miles from Fresno, her fifth-largest city in the state.

León calls the ride-sharing tradition in the Latinx community “the native Uber.”he is the son of immigrant workers brought to the United States under the bracero program He served from 1942 to 1964 and graduated from the University of California, Berkeley. The emotional resonance of ridesharing was born early on. When Mr. Leon was a child, his uncle worked as a lighter. “He was a tall man with a big sombrero, a little car, a green pinto,” he recalled. “He was like Curious George with a big yellow hat. Big man, little car.”

When Leon’s uncle was away, the family’s transportation options were limited. Leon remembers having to take a county bus with his mother to visit a badly injured cousin in the hospital about 55 miles away. It was a grueling three-and-a-half hour trip with at least 16 stops.

For Leon, the ordeal of his youth laid the foundation for Green Lighteros. Electric vehicles, which normally roam the dappled hills of wealthy Malibu and Marin County, are now available to what the farmers, who make up the majority of Mr. Leon’s population, say, are the “keepers of the food chain.” .

Huron’s median household income is $35,000, and many spend 30% to 40% of their monthly salary on gas cars that often break down, Leon said. The air that residents breathe consistently ranks among the worst in the country.

“Movement and transportation are fundamental human rights, as is affordable housing,” said Ethan Elkind, climate program director at the University of California, Berkeley School of Law’s Center for Law, Energy, and the Environment. In a low-income and environmentally vulnerable area like Huron, getting the necessary infrastructure, especially charging stations, up and running requires multiple sources of public funding, including staff who initially apply for subsidies. He said it is often the case.

Leon launched Green Literos in 2018 using private foundation funds and $500,000 from a lawsuit settlement between NRG Energy and the California Public Works Commission. The Tesla was built with the benefit of a $1 million grant from the California Air Resources Board, the state’s air quality regulator responsible for developing programs to combat climate change. (the law requires it) At least 35% of selected climate change investment projects benefits low-income communities and households). The annual operating budget of $150,000 is primarily a combination of funding from the Aviation Commission, state agencies and philanthropic organizations, supplemented by a recent donation from General Motors. “The goal is always to catch up,” Leon said.

Tax credits and consumer rebates on EV purchases tend to do little for those for whom car ownership is a major financial hurdle. “Owning a car perpetuates poverty,” Leon said, sitting at the Green Lighteros dispatch center behind the faded brown stucco portico on the high street.

Ibarra, like some Green Lighteros drivers, started as a customer. Her husband, Victor Garcia, works as a farm truck driver and needed access to the only vehicle in her family, so Ibarra relied on Lightero for her transportation. One of her regular customers, Gregorio Hernandez, 69, a former farm worker, was originally a “green lighter,” but after two strokes he couldn’t drive. He usually rides in Ibarra’s Bolt with fellow dialysis patient Enrique Contreras, or else it would cost him $40 a day to drive, he said.

The route to Ibarra’s dialysis center is part of life in the Central Valley, which bisects miles of pistachio and almond orchards and cotton fields that fluff down its shoulders. She passes by local employers, including a major state prison and a searing tomato paste processing plant where she used to work. In the car, the three chat about what’s growing, what’s going on in the fields and, of course, the weather. Ibarra always waits for two men to finish her dialysis appointment before driving her home.

She said she cares about the planet, but she likes EVs mainly because she hates filling them with gas. She logs her mileage on her iPhone and reaches for her charger at the end of the day. At night, the show’s car stays behind a chain link fence guarded by two pitbulls, Princess and Puki.

“This is important because many people don’t drive, don’t own a car, and don’t have anyone to pick them up,” Ibarra said. “They are all farm workers and will lose a day’s work.”

Green Raitero’s customers, about 120 in total, pre-book rides or drop by the former repair shop. Many people “still have old-fashioned flip phones,” said David Mercado, a dispatcher and longtime driver. “They can call you day or night. We are a close-knit community.”

Ingenious models of EV ride-sharing are thriving in rural areas and beyond. An unincorporated community outside of Fresno To new car sharing program Bringing EVs to affordable housing complexes in eight states. Powered by Blink Mobility, a pioneering public-private initiative in Los Angeles, BlueLA began in 2015 with funding from the California Air Resources Board and the city’s Department of Water and Power. We offer car sharing. Discounted rates for low-income members: Membership fee is $1 per month, rental fee is 15 cents per minute.

Rancho San Pedro is a Latino-majority public housing complex adjacent to the polluted and busy Port of Los Angeles. It campaigned for a US dollar state-funded experimental program and installed two electric vehicles and a charging station here. A traffic desert area more than 32 miles from downtown.

Shared Nissan Leafs, rented for $5 an hour, are popular with residents, and prime time starts at 6 a.m. for school drop-offs. “If your car breaks down, you don’t have to fix it,” says Maria Montez, who guides how to use the EV-sharing program.

other EV pilots, non-profit miokerhas been based in affordable housing developments across the Central Valley and reliant on public investment.

The most far-reaching concept is the nation’s first municipally owned car-sharing in Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota, consisting of 170 electric vehicles and 70 charging spots covering 35 square miles of poverty-stricken areas. covers the area. Evie Carshare It debuted last year and has received $7 million in federal grants, $4 million from Minneapolis-based Excel Energy, Inc., and funding from both cities.

But taken together, these nonprofit programs face broader hurdles. We offer below-market pricing, which may make our long-term financial sustainability and ability to scale uncertain. “This is an inversion of the dominant car-sharing model, which is for-profit operations in wealthy urban areas with high-quality transportation,” said associate director of the Center for Urban Land Use and Transportation at the University of California, Davis. said Caroline Rodier. I have been researching Miocar and rural car sharing.

Getting auto insurance can also be difficult, said Clayton Randall, the company’s chief executive. Mobility Development Groupspecializing in launching such projects.

Upstate New York’s Ithaca Carshare has been in operation for 15 years with 30 cars and 1,500 members. recently stopped working After the two remaining private car-sharing insurers withdrew from the New York market. Last week, the state passed a bill allowing nonprofits to pool insurance, allowing programs like Ithaca to secure affordable plans and continue operating.

And in Canchu Creek, California, a small Central Valley town (population 471), the much-anticipated November 2019 arrival of four EVs and six chargers through a state program was short-lived. rice field. These cars were put on hold at the beginning of the pandemic and then rudely removed.

Poetically named “Van Y Vienen” (meaning “back and forth”), members of the community can volunteer as drivers through an app launched by private ride-hailing company Green Commuter. I was. For residents like Rosario Rodriguez, 47, who lives in nearby Three Rocks and doesn’t drive, this was a huge relief.

The $1.9 million project included $749,800 in funding from the California Aviation Commission. Its decommissioning “represents the larger question of how to invest in public transport beyond traditional projects,” said co-executive director Veronica Garibay. Justice and Responsibility Leadership Advisora legal and social justice organization that works with low-income rural communities.

The car gave residents a brief glimpse of independence. “It was a ride with people I could trust,” Rodriguez said, citing easy access to mammograms, dental appointments and grocery shopping in Fresno, 80 miles away. “One day the car disappeared.”

“Honestly, I feel helpless and disappointed,” she said. “Having transportation is neither a privilege nor a luxury. It is a necessity.”