High-voltage outlets, smart chargers, money-saving utility programs: what to know about charging EVs at home
4 min
Things I miss about my local gas station:
…
That’s it. That’s the list. OK, fine, I did enjoy the communal squeegees.
This week marks six months since the grand opening of my home electric-vehicle charging station. Congrats to the whole team! (Me and my electrician.) Located between my garage door and recycling bin, it’s hard to beat for the convenience. And also the price.
If you’ve followed my ad-EV-ntures, you’re aware of my feelings about the hell that is public EV charging , at least before Tesla started sharing its Superchargers with its rivals. Truth is, I rarely go to those public spots. The vast majority of EV owners—83%—regularly charge at home, according to data-analytics company J.D. Power.
I already discovered many EV virtues , but I didn’t quite grasp the cost savings until I tallied up half a year of home-charging data. In that time, I spent roughly $125 on electricity to drive just under 2,500 miles. In my old car, that would have cost me more than twice as much—assuming gas held steady at around $3.25 a gallon . And I was charging through the winter, when electricity doesn’t stretch as far in an EV.
Rebates and programs from my state and utility company sweeten the deal. So I will be able to take advantage of discounted electricity, and offset the cost of my charger. The same may be available to you.
But first, there are technical things to figure out. A 240-volt plug? Kilowatt-hours? Peak and off-peak charging? While other people are in their garages founding world-altering tech companies or hit rock bands, I’m in there finding answers to your home-charging questions.
Sure, you can plug your car into a regular 120-volt wall outlet. (Some cars come with a cable.) And sure, you can also simultaneously watch all of Netflix while it charges. It would take more than two days to fill my Ford Mustang Mach-E’s 290-mile battery via standard plug, known as Level 1 charging.
That’s why you want Level 2, which can charge you up overnight. It requires two components:
• A 240-volt electric outlet. Good news: You might already have one of these higher-powered outlets in your house. Some laundry dryers and other appliances require them. Bad news: It might not be in your garage—assuming you even have a garage. I realise not everybody does.
Since my suburban New Jersey home has an attached garage, the install process wasn’t horrible—or at least that’s what my electrician said. He ran a wire from the breaker panel in the basement to the garage and installed a new box with a NEMA 14-50 outlet. People with older homes or detached garages might face trickier wiring issues—more of a “Finding NEMA” adventure. (I apologise to everyone for that joke.)
My installation cost about $1,000 but the pricing can vary widely.
• A smart charger. Choosing a wall charger for your car is not like choosing one for your phone. These mini computers help you control when to start and stop charging, calculate pricing and more.
“This is not something where you just go to Amazon and sort for lowest to highest price,” said Tom Moloughney, the biggest EV-charging nerd I know. On his website and “State of Charge” YouTube channel , Moloughney has reviewed over 100 home chargers. In addition to technical measurements, he does things like freezing the cords, to see if they can withstand wintry conditions.
“Imagine you are fighting with this frozen garden hose every time you want to charge,” he said.
One of his top picks, the ChargePoint Home Flex , was the same one my dad had bought. So I shelled out about $550 for it.
Just remember, if you want to make use of a charger’s advanced features—remote controls, charging updates, etc.—you’ll also need strong Wi-Fi in your garage.
I hear all you money-minded WSJ readers: That’s at least $1,600 after getting the car. How the heck is this saving money? I assumed I’d recoup the charging-equipment investment over time, but then I found ways to get cash back even sooner.
My utility provider, PSE&G, says it will cover up to $1,500 on eligible home-charger installation costs . I just need to submit some paperwork for the rebate. In addition, New Jersey offers a $250 rebate on eligible charger purchases. (Phew! My ChargePoint is on the list.) If all is approved, I’d get back around $1,250. Fingers crossed!
I didn’t know about these programs until I started reporting on this. Nearly half of home-charging EV owners say they, too, are unaware of the programs offered by their electric utility, according to a 2024 study released by J.D. Power . So yes, it’s good to check with your provider. Kelley Blue Book also offers a handy state-by-state breakdown.
Now I just plug in, right? Kinda. Even if you have a Level 2 charger, factors affect how many hours a fill-up will take, from the amperage in the wall to the current charge of your battery. Take Lionel Richie’s advice and plan on charging all night long .
It can also save you money to charge during off-peak hours.
Electricity costs are measured in kilowatt-hours. On my basic residential plan, PSE&G charges 18 cents per kWh—just 2 cents above the 2023 national average . My Mustang Mach-E’s 290-mile extended-range battery holds 91 kilowatt-hours.
Translation: A “full tank” costs $16. For most gas-powered cars, that wouldn’t cover half a tank.
And If I’m approved for PSE&G’s residential smart-charging plan, my off-peak charging (10 p.m. to 6 a.m. and weekends) will be discounted by up to 10.5 cents/kWh that I’ll get as a credit the following month. I can set specific charging times in the ChargePoint app.
Electricity prices fluctuate state to state but every expert I spoke to said no matter where in the country you live, home charging should cost less than half what gas would for the same mileage. (See chart above for a cost comparison of electric versus gas.) And as I’ve previously explained , fast charging at public stations will cost much more.
One big question: Am I actually doing anything for the environment if I’m just taxing the grid? Eventually, I’d like to offset the grid dependence—and cost—by powering my fancy little station with solar panels. Then, I’ll just be missing the squeegee.
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AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.
4 min
A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.
For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.
There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.
When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.
That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.
Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.
By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.
In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.
Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.
Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”
Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”
Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.
AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.
