The Kia EV6, in many ways, competes with every other midsize crossover out there. There’s just this one odd difference — electric power — that separates it from the CR-Vs and Rav4s with which it shares its size, seating, and purpose. That one change, though, makes all the difference in the world.
No matter how much its detractors whine, electric power makes cars interesting. The unyielding surge of torque, the science-fiction sound of three-phase motors, it’s a whole new paradigm for even the most boring vehicles — something we never knew we were missing. It makes you wonder: What else have I been missing for all these years?
Full Disclosure: Kia lent me an EV6 to drive over Memorial Day Weekend back in 2022, which I used to visit all the old haunts of my childhood. I decided that the trip would make a perfect coming-out piece, which I then did not write for nearly two years. Sorry, Kia.
Much of my early life revolved around a little town called Fairfield, Connecticut, on the northern shore of the Long Island Sound. I lived just off that shore, across the street from the beach, long before I started forming memories. Fairfield is a moneyed town, but it’s humbler about it than many – it’s all old money here, stealth wealth residing in hundred-year-old homes.
In this land of Toyotas and Hondas, the hard, sharp angles of a satin-gray Kia are an oddity. Yet, it doesn’t draw attention befitting just how out-of-place it is – no glances, no looks, no glares. Maybe it’s the quiet electric drivetrain that flies under the radar. Maybe the muted color doesn’t draw the eye. Or, maybe, even Fairfield knows the future is coming – it’s always been lurking under the surface, and pushing back against it is a futile effort.
Out of curiosity, I took the EV6 down that childhood beach road — yet, while driving and scanning the sides of the street, I never saw my old house. Google Street View tells me it’s still there, I recognize it in the picture, but in real life the street has changed. Ever so slowly, it’s been built up, and the one icon I recognized — my old house — is now buried. Of course, I don’t look the same now, either. I can point out things I recognize in photos from years ago, but the face that holds those features has, ever so slowly, changed. I, on my own, have changed it.
Looking for a spot to take photos, I ended up near the Aspetuck Reservoir in Easton, CT. Here, more than anywhere else, the steel-gray Kia draws eyes. This area is antique, old forests and roads occasionally dotted with an establishment that looks like it dates back to approximately the Revolutionary War. Even the gas station, somehow, has a colonial feel.
The Aspetuck Reservoir was an icon through my entire childhood — you have to pass it en route to the house where my grandmother lived until her death — yet I never knew what it was called until I wrote this story. I didn’t even know it was in Easton; I’d always assumed it was yet more Fairfield. As it turns out, there are a lot of things I didn’t know back then — questions I never even thought to ask until years later.
While I lived in Fairfield early in my life, Newtown is where I really grew up. The little cul-de-sac I lived on as a kid, the place right in the center of town that served as both home and my parents’ offices in high school, the apartment above an office that my parents moved into after I flew the nest after college. Newtown even served as home base for my briefly-owned, ill-fated track Miata, which should give longtime readers an impression of just how long ago Kia loaned me this car. Rumor has it, that Miata still haunts the streets of Newtown as its new owner’s daily driver.
Newtown, too, is always changing. Electric vehicles are now plentiful, with Mustang Mach-Es, Teslas, and even Rivians dotting the roads. As times change, and the community around EVs grows ever stronger, electrification is becoming more feasible than ever. Folks who knew it was right, but wondered if it was feasible, can now have the kind of support needed to take the plunge — and, despite hate from lawmakers, even enjoy it.
The changes, though, run deeper than that. Fairfield Hills now hosts bar trivia, and the General Store takes online orders. Burgerittoville spans an entire building, pushing Cave Comics out into the parking lot, though the person behind the counter, incredibly, still recognizes me — or, recognizes a person I used to be.
See, there’s another change in the town of Newtown, whenever I come through: There’s one more trans person in the population. One more girl who took her sweet time figuring her shit out, and who finally — after sitting on this Kia loan for nearly two years — is letting folks know about it.The EV transition, that led us to the EV6, has been messy. All the missteps, the early learnings, have all been very public, as manufacturers struggle to figure it all out while investors clamor for results. Similarly, my own transition as a somewhat-public-facing person has felt messy. I don’t have investors, sure, but I have each and every one of you readers in mind as I consider my presentation here on Jalopnik. My hair and voice in videos, my mannerisms, the breadcrumbs I’ve left in the past year and a half of blogs (I’ll personally mail a sticker to whoever first digs up the first reference to my name in a video, the first time I wrote it in a blog, and the paragraph I wrote in a motorcycle post that was just a thinly-disguised metaphor for coming out). I know I’m no celebrity, but there’s a significant portion of my life that feels like it’s out there for public consumption. It’s harder to experiment, to try things out and see what sticks, when you know that experimentation will always have eyes on it.
Still, something stuck. Something that feels a little brighter, a little bubblier, a little more likely to dance whenever and wherever Dua Lipa is playing. It might even be more accurate to say someone stuck – someone named Amber. Pleasure to meet you.
