Times Insider explains who we are and what we do and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.
Many of my friends have abandoned Facebook. My three teenagers never even signed up for it. I, however, check Facebook almost every day. It helps me stay in touch with friends and family in my hometown, Wymore, Neb., a rural community of about 1,300. That’s how I learned that the school district there was getting a free, brand-new bus powered not by gas but by electricity.
A few months ago, a post about the school bus was shared to an account that draws in many former and current Wymore residents. Before I scrolled to the comments section, I knew I’d find naysayers who were skeptical about the technology.
Electric vehicles are a hard sell for rural America, where it can be difficult to find a gas station, let alone a charging station. As a reporter who writes about environmental issues for The New York Times, I had been searching for an opportunity to report on people who live outside big cities and struggle to envision an electric future. Telling the story of Wymore’s new bus seemed like the perfect occasion. And I knew just the right venue: my upcoming high school reunion.
I knew from Facebook that some of my high school classmates — my graduating class had 32 people — played key roles in the arrival of the electric bus this past spring. (The bus was part of a free grant the Biden administration is giving to low-income, rural school districts.) One classmate, David Zimmerman, whom we called Zimm back in the day, was president of the school board. Another, John Watts, ran a salvage business outside of town that sells muscle car parts all over the world, one of the most successful operations in the area. An all-E.V. revolution would crater his business.
I flew from New York to Nebraska over Memorial Day weekend, hoping to reconnect with friends and learn more about the bus. Wymore often comes alive during this holiday. High school alumni attend a big banquet and roam about town together. Over steak at the American Legion Anderson Post 25, drinks at Papa B’s in the adjoining community of Blue Springs and pulled pork at a class potluck, we chatted about the bus, which gave way to conversations about alternative energy and climate change in general.
As a reporter, writing about my home state has always made me nervous. I wanted to get it right. And writing about my hometown, and the people I’ve known since I was in kindergarten, was extra nerve-racking. I hadn’t seen some of them since we stood together at our lockers in high school. It’s a strange feeling interviewing someone you remember vomiting in the hallway in sixth grade but haven’t been in touch with for 35 years. Fortunately, everyone had enough trust to have frank discussions with me, and with one another, about a changing future.
Mr. Zimmerman, a.k.a. Zimm, told me about how he usually leaves his farm gear, like slow-moving combines and tractors, in a field overnight. He wondered, if they were battery-powered, how much time he would spend each day getting them home to charge. Mr. Watts, who had wanted to run a salvage yard since he was in kindergarten, was worried about his livelihood.
Gage County, where Wymore is, has not been quick to embrace renewable energy. The county has put in place so many rules for wind farms that it’s virtually impossible to build them there. Many people simply don’t like the look of them. Staring out into the uninterrupted horizon for miles is a treasure in this nation. In Wymore, watching brooding thunderstorms roll in is a rite of spring. Giant wind turbines poking from the plains spoils the view, the thinking goes.
At one point during my reporting, I visited the archive room of the Wymore Public Library to page through old yearbooks and to learn more about Wymore’s history as a railroad town. I flipped through copies of old front pages of the local newspaper and articles in the 1920s lamenting the big change of the era that was causing uproar: the transition from horse-drawn buggy to the combustion engine. Clearly, history repeats itself.
I came away from my reporting trip with a deeper understanding of how fears of an all-electric vehicle future go beyond worrying about whether a car will run out of battery power — a real and present fear felt acutely in places with scant charging stations. I learned that worries about a changing way of life are multifaceted and prompt other concerns, like the ability to make a living, or to make it home in time for supper with family.
After my article was published this month, I heard from many people who had grown up or live in small towns and shared my classmates’ concerns about an electric vehicle future. Most rewarding was hearing from people who have lived most of their lives in cities; some said it helped them understand the hesitancy of rural America to embrace E.V.s.
For my part, I know I’ll be back home again soon.
