Test Drive of a Green Machine

I’m driving down Independence Boulevard laughing hysterically. Dan is in the passenger seat smiling cautiously, and agreeing that, yes, even though he’s driven this car cross-country, the bee sting quick acceleration never gets old. I nod my head and catch my breath while the speedometer tickles triple digits.

We get hundreds of press releases every day, with the vast majority lasting just long enough for a finger to hit the “Delete” key. But this release caught my attention. It was from someone named Khobi Brooklyn and announced that a “Pure Electric Super Car” was coming to Charlotte. When I saw it I thought it better be the Tesla or someone’s press release was going to get an extra forcefully executed “Delete.” It was, and Brooklyn offered a test drive of the only all-electric (read: no gas at all) high-performance sports car on the market, the Tesla Roadster. The Tesla team was going to be in Charlotte in the next couple of days and wanted to know whether I’d be interested in driving it. Hell yeah.

The typical manufacturer that comes through town offering rides in their cars carries with them a large production of multiple sales reps, factory reps and press agents. Rolls Royce flew through town and brought along eight cars, set up shop in front of the Bobcats stadium, and had an NFL football team-sized entourage. With Tesla I thought it would be similar, so through e-mail I asked multiple times where they were going to camp out, and where we could meet up. They were a bit hesitant about disclosing their location and talked about their schedule being in flux, so we could decide on a location when we spoke over the phone the following week. OK?

Five days later I get an e-mail from Dan and his traveling partner, Shaun, about scheduling a time to meet to drive the car. The day after that I give Shaun a call and it sounds like Shaun is standing in the street somewhere in uptown and I ask whether I can schedule a time to drive the car. “Well”, he says, “I think the weather is supposed to be bad tomorrow, and we’re headed up to Lexington over the weekend anyway, so how about now?” Without hanging up, I grab my stuff, head out the door of the office, and get the location of where they have the car displayed to the public. He mentions a cross street near the Carillon Building and explains they are parked on the street. On the street? Entourage, fireworks, press agents? Nope.
Walking past the Carillon, I see a guy sitting near the park texting. And lo and behold, parked on the street, along with everything else, surrounded by nothing but the curb, is a $157,000 all-electric Tesla Roadster. Wow.

I capture a couple pics of the car and ask to see the “engine.” The Tesla is a mid-engine roadster and all you can see when popping the back hood is the top of its lithium ion (read: laptop) batteries. And of course a week’s worth of dirty clothes for Dan and Shaun. They are literally just driving the car around the East Coast, stopping in cities to talk with potential customers and the occasionally lucky media rep. Just a week’s worth of T-shirts, underwear and shampoo. It’s more like a college road trip than a press junket, except instead of Mom’s sedan, they are driving a car that does 0-60 in under four seconds without a single drop of gasoline.

I sign something I didn’t read, absolving Tesla of all responsibility for my driving, and Dan hands me the keys. Luckily I whitewater kayak and am used to folding my 6-foot-1 frame into tight spaces because the driver’s side seat is similar in size to the cockpit of my whitewater boat. Tiny.

What follows is hard to describe: The engine cranks but there is no sound, no gasoline fumes, and no power steering. The wheel is tiny in my hands, and is similar in size to the go-karts at Victory Lane. I pull out into traffic and jerk into my lane. “Instant on” is the term I would use. The accelerator feels like it’s tied directly to the rear wheels, and there is no lag whatsoever.

At the on-ramp to Independence, we are stuck behind a carbon fuel-based pickup truck from the ‘80s. But after the on-ramp we quickly join the flow of traffic. And I floor it. There is no tachometer, but instead a dial that displays wattage use. I redline that, and with the engine quietly whining in the background we are thrown back in our seats. I think Dan is trying to tell me something but I’m laughing too hard to hear him. Amazing.

~ Todd Trimakas