I bet you didn’t know what a nightmare charging an electric car can be. Sunday, I drove to Santa Barbara with my husband Neal. We had tickets for the opera Ill Trovatore. A Verdi opus, rarely done because of its convoluted story. When we got off the freeway, our first stop was Smart n’ Final-for a urinary break. Then, as Neal maneuvered the Chevy Volt out of the parking lot, the car jumped up then boom down. “What was that?” The car had tried to gallop over a ledge. Within seconds, the tire gave its last breath. EV’s don’t have spares. My heart raced to the trauma projection finish line. Called Geico for towing. Waited 90 minutes. Towed to Budget Tires-thankfully open on Superbowl Sunday. “Will the new tire be put on so we can get to the Lobrero Theater for the 2:30 showtime. “Yes.” Ate lunch. Miraculously the virgin tire was ready. Opera was glorious-filled with showstopping arias. Afterwards we wanted to find a charging station. When we did, in order for it to work, we needed a tech genius to accomplish that feat. After it began pumping electricity, we abandoned the car, went to eat and when we returned, another nightmare occurred. The charging stopped at .24 cents even though we added funds of $10. We had drive back to Santa Monica on pins and needles. Cliffhanger time dear reader.