Electric cars: Will we use them? Are they any good? And how will we power them? Special report

SCOTLAND'S ROLE: By Environment Editor Rob Edwards

Glasgow could become Britain's first Electric Motor City, under plans launched by government and industry. The city is playing a leading role in the UK government's drive to transform electric vehicles from the playthings of geeks to a major mode of transport in urban areas.

A £1.8 million scheme to trial 30 electric vehicles in Glasgow over the next two years has been given the go-ahead, at the same time as the government announced plans to give drivers up to £5000 off new all-electric cars from 2011.

The government is planning to make up to 200 electric cars available for public use in city centres across the UK, as part of an ambitious £250 million strategy to encourage a green motoring revolution.

Glasgow has been selected as one of five local authorities in the UK to pilot the use of electric cars, using a local company, Allied Vehicles, with batteries provided by Axeon in Dundee. The energy company Scottish Power is also involved in developing a network of charging points for the cars.

Electric vehicles are powered by battery-driven motors, so produce no polluting exhaust fumes like petrol or diesel engines. They are also extremely quiet by comparison, though their range is limited without being recharged.

Glasgow City Council's aim is to become Scotland's greenest city and "one of the most sustainable cities in Europe", according to its executive member for the environment, councillor Irfan Rabbani. Scottish Power said it was excited to be involved in a project to develop low-carbon transportation.

"We believe this could have a hugely positive impact both in Glasgow and across the UK," said the company's energy and environment director, Gordon McGregor.

The plans have been welcomed by environmental groups and transport campaigners, though they caution that the electricity to power the vehicles' batteries must come from clean renewable sources, not dirty coal or nuclear stations.

Duncan McLaren, the chief executive of Friends of the Earth Scotland, believes that electric vehicles could be a "big plus" for Scotland's cities. "As long as they are introduced alongside increased support for buses, trams, walking and cycling to ensure that congestion also falls, they could help improve quality of life by making city streets quieter, and cutting health-threatening air pollution," he said.

But there was a major question over where the electricity would come from, he argued. There would be no point in powering the vehicles by coal or nuclear stations, as that would simply create climate-wrecking pollution and dangerous radioactive waste.

"We can use renewable power from the wind and the tides, and get an extra bonus - that the batteries of our electric cars could act as a giant dispersed electricity store, being charged up when renewable power is most abundant, but used only when we need them," McLaren said.

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ELECTRIC MOTOR CITY 2030: By Rob Edwards

IT was the tranquillity Sandra Harvie loved when she woke up. All around her the city was on the move, but there was hardly a sound. She lay in bed listening to the silence.

It was how she imagined the Greek island her parents had told her about years ago where there were no cars, so all you heard were voices and laughter drifting on the wind. It was invigorating.

It was so blessedly different from the Glasgow she remembered as a child. Some streets had been so noisy then with buses and lorries and cars that they had drowned out speech and smothered music.

But now, in 2030, her city was quiet and peaceful. As she ate breakfast in her tenement flat she listened to the radio reporting Glasgow's clean air index had again broken records, giving the city the safest and most breathable oxygen for decades.

Rates of asthma were declining for the first time, the radio reporter said. Good thing, thought Sandra, recalling all the friends she had known who had clutched and sucked on inhalers wherever they went. Gone were the days when the city reeked of diesel and petrol, and particles of grime lodged themselves in your nostrils. No more did pollutants accumulate in street canyons or under bridges, attacking lungs and weakening hearts.

Sipping tea, Sandra contemplated the day ahead. Most days she worked from home taking part in meetings on her broadband console, but today she had to travel north to Loch Lomond to see an old acquaintance.

As a treat, she had booked herself an e-car for her trip, from the city council's green car-sharing scheme. Hiring the car cost so little, and it would enable her to take her elderly friend out.

Down in the street, Sandra found the car she had reserved plugged in as usual to the kerbside charger. She swiped her Octopus travel card, and settled herself into the driver's seat.

The engine started, as ever, without a sound, and she pressed the accelerator pedal to move off. The streets were busy with pedestrians, other e-cars, e-bikes, e-taxis, e-buses and a few e-trucks, all moving quietly.

Every now and again, one of the old internal combustion engines would growl loudly by in an old-fashioned car. There were only a few left now, since oil had peaked and prices rocketed, making fuel cost over 20 euros a litre.

Only the rich and eccentric clung onto them, and they had to plan journeys with care as petrol stations had become so few and far between. They were like a relic from the bad old days, and often provoked dirty looks.

People were also startled by the noise they made, which made a change.

It was not so long ago that the anti-e-car brigade had campaigned - unsuccessfully - for sirens on e-cars to prevent them from crashing into unwary walkers.

All this reminded Sandra of her parents, Scottish politicians both, and the long anti-car rants she had had to endure from them as a child.

No-one had foreseen how fast the change would come, and how beneficial it would be.

Of course the government's initial incentives had helped, but it was the crippling cost of oil coupled with rising congestion and parking charges that had really done the trick. The combustion engine quickly became naff, just like cigarettes and alcohol had done before it.

The oil engine's demise, and the radical restructuring of the city's work and leisure habits so that everyone travelled less, left some mighty mishaps in their wake. The M74 extension into Glasgow, christened the road to nowhere', never had been finished.

As Sandra drove by it, she noticed part of the carriageway had been dug up and turned over to vegetables by the Plain Hungry' movement.

She smiled, remembering how her parents had never stopped railing about the motorway.

Later, beyond the city boundaries, she checked her car's charge. She had enough juice left to get her to the battery replacement station at Luss, where a new, fully-charged battery was automatically installed in her car.

Beyond there, she caught a glimpse from the road of the Arrochar wind farm. What a fuss that had caused, though it looked harmless enough these days. It had been one of the last tranches of onshore wind farms built after the 2012 Sellafield accident had forced governments to close down nuclear power stations.

Luckily, that had been possible because of a crash programme to insulate homes, accompanied by some impressive breakthroughs in offshore wind, biomass, wave and tidal power, which had all helped resurrect Scotland's ailing economy. Coal stations had also been phased out as part of the 2009 Copenhagen protocol to cut climate pollution.

Sandra, like most people, was still worried about the relentless warming of the globe, but at least she felt her generation was doing something about it. So she arrived at her old friend's front door in a positive frame of mind.

Michael greeted her with a huge bear hug, and readily agreed to a drive down to the loch shore. There, sitting in the sun, they talked about the politics of old Scotland before the oil crash, and the politics of new Scotland now.

They agreed that, though there were still many problems, life was probably better. Although they could not travel so often, so far or so fast, most people seemed happier, more laid-back, and lived longer.

Sandra said she felt she had a future, which she had doubted at points when she was growing up. She had her parents to thank in part for that, argued Michael, and he apologised for his generation's mistakes, and his government's failure to do enough 20 years ago.

Today, though, Sandra was generously forgiving. As she drove silently back into Glasgow that evening she counted her blessings, and felt the calmness.

This was indeed, at last, a dear green place.

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TIDAL POWER: How the sea could replace two nuclear power stations
By Rob Edwards

p>A unique tidal power machine being developed at Strathclyde University could produce enough electricity to replace both of Scotland's ageing nuclear power stations.

Researchers say that 2000 underwater turbines tethered to the seabed around the west and north coasts could generate a massive two gigawatts of power. That is more than enough to supply all Scotland's base load electricity, and supplant power from the reactors at Hunterston in North Ayrshire and Torness in East Lothian.

Tidal power and wind power are two key green energies which, if harnessed properly could revolutionise the way we live. If green energies like tide and wind were coupled with new technological breakthroughs like the electric car, carbon pollution could almost become a thing of the past.

With the right incentives a series of tidal turbine farms could be in operation around Scotland by the 2020s, researchers argue, enabling Hunterston and Torness to be closed down.

Tidal power is the Holy Grail of renewables, offering huge amounts of energy in a very predictable pattern.

Now a team of engineers led by Cameron Johnstone (pictured above) from Strathclyde University's Energy Systems Research Unit has come up with a new machine which they believe could tap serious amounts of the clean, natural energy soon.

Looking a little like an aircraft engine with two propellers, the device uses the movement of the tides to turn turbines and generate electricity. It has two rotors designed to spin in opposite directions, giving it enough stability to operate in deep waters.

Unlike first-generation tidal machines, it will not be fixed to the seabed on a tower like a wind turbine, but moored by a cable.

This will enable the device to move with the flow of the tide, like a kite on a windy day.

The device has been christened Cormat, for Contra Rotating Marine Technology. It has already been successfully tested off Islay, and industry backing is now being sought for a £1.6million, 500-kilowatt commercial demonstration.

Johnstone said: "You could see tidal energy come up to complement and then potentially replace the nuclear power stations.

"This turbine could allow us to extract more energy from the sea than ever before."

If the 500-kilowatt demonstration works, one megawatt machines with 14-metre rotors could start generating electricity soon after 2013, Johnstone said. It would take approximately 2000 of them to replace the electricity from Hunterston and Torness.

Hunterston is currently scheduled to close in 2016 and Torness in 2023, though both their lives could be extended. They provide more than enough electricity to meet Scotland's base load requirement.

Johnstone said that he had already had "substantial interest" from private companies.

His design would cost at least 50% less than first generation tidal machines, he argued, because it was relatively simple and didn't require fixed foundations.

The Scottish government praised Cormat as an exciting project that helped demonstrate the nation's "world-leading strengths in harnessing the vast clean, green renewable energy potential off our shores".

Scotland has a quarter of all Europe's tidal resource, said a spokesman for the energy minister, Jim Mather.

"Renewable technologies including wind, water, biomass, wave and tidal, backed up by clean thermal baseload, can meet our energy needs many times over."

TEST DRIVE: By Fiona Webster, director of Clydebank Housing Association, which hires out three electric cars to tenants

I was really excited about test-driving one of our new electric cars. I was keen to find out for myself if a car that plugs into a kettle socket could actually get me to work and back.

At first sight, I thought: "hmm not very stylish, but sensible a bit like an anorak". It's just an average, small car. I wasn't going to be turning any heads in Kilbowie Road.

My drive to and from work is about 12 miles and with a range of about 40 miles, I could do three return trips safely, without having to charge up.

The controls couldn't be easier. Like other automatics, there are only two pedals, brake and accelerator. Switching on was a little disconcerting. There was no sound at all, other than the click of the switch. There was no engine noise, so I actually doubted when I pressed the accelerator whether anything was going to happen. I needn't have worried.

Driving the car was fun. I managed to touch 37.5mph on the flat and it felt like I was really moving - and still no sound. And I was wrong about the car not "turning heads" the car attracted lots of attention. I was even approached by curious pedestrians, when I was stationary. That doesn't happen in my Audi TT.

When I got home, my son demanded a demo. "It's a beast mum!" he scoffed. The sarcasm wasn't wasted on me, but by that time, I was thinking "What would he know? This car is cool.".

Driving home, I decided that I really love electric motoring. Although the car did slow down a bit going uphill, I didn't think that would matter if the cars behind were electric too. In fact, if all the cars driving round in the city were electric, just think how much more safe, quiet and clean the city would be.