“Damn thing handles just like a go-kart,” I said to the ride-along on my Phoenix Motorcars SUT test drive.

He looked pale, obviously not ready for my hard right into traffic, but his nausea was the least of my concerns at that point.

I considered telling him to relax, I do this kind of stuff all the time, but I decided against it.

You see, I was pretty nauseated myself, and felt no sympathy. With all the articles I’ve written about how promising a contender the Phoenix SUT is in the electric vehicle market, I was terrified of it not copping up.

On paper everything is in order.

The truck has a great 130 mile range, fast charge time, good performance numbers, and half-ton towing capacity.

In the past when I’ve seen the SUT at conferences and shows, but not been able to drive it, I was pleased with the overall fit and finish.

It actually looks like something your teenaged son could borrow and not be a weeping mess on Oprah ten years from now placing all of his insecurity issues on having to take little Sally to the dance in an EV.

But I know all too well looks can be deceiving. Just cause she’s painted all white doesn’t mean she’s an angel.

The last thing I wanted was to take it out for the test and have to report back to you that after a wheel fell off the batteries burst into flames and now I need facial reconstruction.

I suppose I should have forewarned the ride-along that my credibility was on the line, and if his truck didn’t live up to what it had been touted to be in numerous press releases there would be hell to pay.

But we were both in luck. No one died, already busy L.A. plastic surgeons were not burdened with grafting my stern to my bow and I was quite impressed with the ride.

First Impressions

The first thing you think when sliding behind the wheel is, “What’s all the fuss about?”

Feels just like any other well made midsized truck out there.

Ample leg room for my 6’ 2” frame, the steering wheel adjusted just right for me, nice and low, and all the controls were placed logically and the gauges were easy to read.

The leather was supple and the seats provided great lumbar support and the sides were nice and plump and promised to keep me in place.

Then I put it through a test I devised after years of driving a ’70 Monte Carlo that was built as loose as a--oh nevermind--use your imagination for that one.

Anyway, the test is where I grab the dash and thrash about like a rattlesnake at a holy rollers congregation.

I don’t know of any other car writer that does that, but they should. If a company put time into making the dash fit snug, bets are it’s a decent vehicle.

No shake, no rattle, all was in order, so we rolled.

The center consol shifter has only three options. Forward, neutral and reverse.

Turn the key, ratchet it up one gate from neutral and you have 480 pounds of torque pushing you up to 60 in less than 10 seconds without a single complaint.

Not a good idea in a parking lot, but remember I was on a mission from God, or Plugged- in Profits, same difference to me, at least.

Coming up to the gate out of the car zoo I knew I had to reel it in quickly, and all the talk I’ve heard about regenerative breaking is truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

As soon as you let off the gas, er, electric pedal, it slows down in an assertive manner. With proper timing you don’t even need to use the brakes, most of the time.

But, as most of my exes will tell you, I have horrible timing in everything I do, and this was no different.

I mashed the brake pedal with both feet and was quite relieved.

No shudder, no skipping, just smooth application of braking strength right up to a dead stop.

And, hey, whaddya know? The seat belts kept me on the right side of the windshield!

Good stuff, folks.

After weaving in and out of traffic, running it up to speed from stop lights and doing my best to emulate Colin McRae and has masterful Swedish flicks around corners I was wholly satisfied.

But one thing left me feeling a bit strange.

How can this truck, not light by any means--only 100 pounds more than a comparable gas model, though--be so nimble?

“Well,” said my ride-along sales rep with a bit of cockiness I was beginning to believe he deserved, even though he couldn’t handle a fun little ride with Field, “the battery pack weighs 940 pounds, and it’s all mounted below the frame rails, giving it a very low center of gravity.”

It was starting to make sense now.

I don’t need a master’s thesis in kinetic energy to understand that keeping weight low keeps things from tipping over. Think sumo wrestler here.

I pulled her to a stop, became frustrated with the key thinking I wasn’t turning it enough to shut it off, but then I remembered that nothing happens when you turn off an electric car.

I got entangled with my seat belt--the press got a great pic of that, by the way--stepped out, took a last glance and was content to be on my merry way.

Oh, but just my luck, my ride-along had recovered and was diving into his spiel like I dove into those corners.

Apparently, this SUT is making some big companies quite pleased.

Phoenix has been working on equipping airports, port utilities, and taxi fleets across our country with their truck.

Their production numbers will be up to 6,000 next year and if you want one, you can order it right now.

It goes for $45,000, but you can get $10,000 lopped off by Uncle Sam.

Keep your hopes on the future but sense in the present.

Field Palmer