The Tesla Cybertruck Makes Big Compromises To Be Cool, But It Actually Pulls It Off

“Your truck is ugly!” an unhoused man yelled while standing on an LA street corner holding up a cardboard sign (a sad, far-too-common sight in a city that is failing many of its citizens). Gripping a strangely-shaped steering wheel not connected to my vehicle’s front tires, I looked over at the man, then over at my passenger, baffled that someone who clearly has bigger fish to fry would care that much about the looks of the truck I was driving. But that’s the Tesla Cybertruck in a nutshell. It’s an unignorable, brutalist bunker-on-wheels that the world cannot resist talking about, and it ended up this way because Tesla made massive compromises that make the truck worse in so many ways, and yet, as a package, so much better. Here, allow me to explain.

Death By A Thousand Cuts

“Death by a thousand cuts” was an expression that a Vehicle Integration long-timer often said as he did his best to protect the integrity of the Jeep Wrangler JL, whose engineering team I was a part of in my early professional days. What do I mean by “protect the integrity of?” Well, at the start of any vehicle program, there is a “vision” put forth of what the vehicle has to be, on a macro scale.

For the Wrangler, the vision was to take the winning formula of the Jeep Wrangler JK, which was selling in unbelievable, never-before-seen numbers (thanks to the addition of the four-door), and fix its pain points, of which there were many. That rear bench was too upright; we had to fix that. The fuel tank skidplate was flat sheet metal that lacked stiffness, and it would therefore bend up into the tank, reducing its fuel capacity. We had to fix that. That grille looked rectangular and terrible. Designers felt we had to fix that. The shifter vibrated too much; someone felt we had to fix that. The sole engine option didn’t offer good enough fuel economy; we had to fix that.

 

You get the idea. The vision for the JL was to tweak the JK, a dual solid-axle-off-roader that could out-offroad any vehicle on the planet. But as engineers began developing the JL, that vision was jeopardized as individuals and teams sought to reduce the compromises a customer would have to deal with. In doing so, these engineers set out on a course to build something that was decent at everything, but great at nothing, much like many of the crossover SUVs on the market today.

One example from the JL program stands out in my mind: I was sitting in the chassis “chunk team meeting” sometime around early 2014 when a dynamics engineer presented his simulation results. “Our simulations show that the JL, as currently designed, does not meet our corporate ride and handling goals, falling short in the following metrics,” the engineer presented, pointing out areas where the JL’s handling fell short of other vehicles in the company’s fleet. “As such,” he continued, “I recommend changing the solid front axle to an independent suspension design.” I remember my heart pounding when I heard this. The solid front axle was the Wrangler’s trump card; it was what made it far and away the best off-road vehicle for sale in America, especially on rocky courses like the Rubicon Trail and Moab’s “Hell’s Revenge.”

The aforementioned Vehicle Integration long-timer quietly but quickly spoke up. “That’s not the right direction for this vehicle.” That was the end of it. The Wrangler’s solid front axle would live on for at least another generation, solidifying the vehicle as the ultimate rock-crawler for another decade at least.

This long-timer, named Jim, worked together with the JL’s product planner, my friend Tony, to act as a united force against compromise-reducers who threatened to water down the vehicle’s overall “vision” in order to meet their individual or team goals. And these threats were frequent. When someone proposed that the front axle shafts would get hard-to-repair constant-velocity joints instead of bone-simple universal joints, my friends made sure that didn’t happen. When management suggested making skid plates optional for the first time in Jeep Wrangler history, my friends shut that down.

In the end, the JL Wrangler became one of the greatest Jeeps of all time. Pretty much all initial reviews were glowing. This was the old Wrangler, but tweaked in just the right ways to offer a better ride, better fuel economy, a nicer interior, better tech, and on and on, while out-off-roading even its unstoppable predecessor. The result was a triumph. And why? Because the diehards with the vision — my friends Jim and Tony — refused to let the Wrangler succumb to “death by a thousand cuts.”

That was the expression that Jim used pretty much daily. He would always say: “Death by a thousand cuts. You make all these engineering compromises in order to reduce the compromises a customer has to deal with, and at the end of the day, what you have is not a Jeep Wrangler anymore.” The cuts were the engineering compromises, and death was the dilution of the Jeep Wrangler’s soul.

The Cybertruck Kept Its Soul, And That’s Worth Celebrating. Even If It Means Loads Of Compromises

A similar, but arguably even greater triumph happened with the Cybertruck. In 2019, Elon Musk first showed the world the concept version of his company’s first pickup truck on stage in Los Angeles, shortly before designer Franz Von Holzhausen shattered the two driver’s side windows during a demonstration. The responses were brutal. Was this truck a joke? It looks like a sci-fi prop. Is it even legal to build?

Most people thought it was just a concept that would look nothing like the production model. Here was Wired‘s take on it (bold emphasis mine):

Here’s another reason the Cybertruck may seem strange: It doesn’t look like it has all of the necessary elements to make it road-ready. The model shown onstage on Thursday night didn’t have side mirrors, which are required in the US (though the federal government is considering changing the rule). Its headlights, a strip of illumination, wouldn’t be street legal. Automotive engineering experts say they’re also worried about the lack of a visible “crumple zone,” built to collapse and absorb the brunt of the force in a forward collision. Tesla did not respond to questions about whether the truck’s design would change before it goes into production in 2021.

For these reasons, the Cybertruck feels more like a concept car, says Walton, and “a really interesting one.” Other carmakers produce “concepts all the time, but then they don’t list them on their website with a ‘buy now’ button.” Yes, you can reserve your Cybertruck right now for $100.

Here’s what Jalopnik had to say:

Despite what Musk said, the truck we saw last night doesn’t really look like something that can be mass-produced as-is. There are barely any taillights or rear turn signals. The “headlights” are a sort of thin horizontal bar across the front. It doesn’t have side mirrors at all.

Plus, if you think its Knight Rider-style yoke steering wheel is easy to use, try driving KITT sometime. It actually sucks. And how about pedestrian safety standards?

If you don’t believe me, an idiot on the internet, ask our friend and contributor Bozi Tatarevic, a smart person on the internet:

I’m still trying to believe all of this but looking at the front end and some of the angles on the side I wonder if Tesla has considered pedestrian and cyclist safety at all? pic.twitter.com/vNggM4Z95o

— Bozi Tatarevic (@BoziTatarevic) November 22, 2019

And that’s probably just the tip of the iceberg here, as far as regulations go. So while Musk may be reluctant to admit it, the Cybertruck is going to need plenty of changes before it goes to market—just like any concept car.

Here’s what Matt Farah said:

“I’m not entirely sure it’s real…My initial reaction to that was ‘that’s not a real thing.’ And my second reaction is ‘I’m pretty sure they couldn’t build and sell that in America’…because I just don’t think that that will pass the tests that it needs to pass… crash tests, pedestrian safety — stuff like that.”

Farah says he spoke with some designers who convinced him that “it could be possible to build and sell a vehicle shaped sort-of like that, although not exactly like that.”

Scores of journalists and analysts said the Tesla Cybertruck, as shown on that fateful day in November, would never actually make it to production. It wasn’t possible. By the time a production version came out, they said emphatically, it would be a significantly different truck than what was shown back in 2019 (which you can see above). The concept truck, many believed, posed too many compromises — it wouldn’t be safe enough for pedestrians, it wouldn’t be useful enough, you wouldn’t be able to see out the back of it; it would have to change significantly. Like what my friend Jim feared about the JL Wrangler, its soul would succumb to “a thousand cuts.”

But that didn’t happen. Tesla accomplished a miracle.

 

Sure, the Cybertruck came out years later than promised, plus it was more expensive than expected, its payload and towing figures were lower, it had to have mirrors unlike the concept truck, plus its overall size changed a bit. But none of that detracts from the irrefutable fact that Tesla actually pulled it off.

The production Cybertruck delivered the soul promised by the concept truck; a shape that seemed like a joke to so many — and impossible to build — is now driving our roads. The production truck looks almost exactly like the concept, and that’s just a miracle worth celebrating.

And it happened because Tesla refused to water down its vision to get rid of all the compromises that the bold design would impart upon owners. And my God are there compromises.

Compromise 1: Build Quality

I don’t want to spend too much time talking about build quality, because that’s been beaten to death. But just look at the photo above. That’s where the roofline just above the rear passenger’s side door meets the bed’s “sail pillar” (rear quarter panel). The fit is way, way off. And the hood gap where it meets the fender is also huge and uneven:

“This would not be acceptable on any production car that we sell,” my copresenter (and Autopian cofounder) Beau Boeckmann points out in the video at the top of this article. I could go on and on, but again, it’s been beaten to death: The Cybertruck’s fit and finish isn’t great.

Compromise 2: It’s Big And Hard To Maneuver

One thing that’s impossible to ignore is the fact that the Cybertruck is big. And while its four-wheel steer-by-wire allows for a surprisingly tight turning radius with minimal steering effort from the driver, the Cybertruck can still be a bit tricky to maneuver.

I actually hit a car with the Cybertruck. I turned the wheel to back into a parking space, only to see my rear tire turn and smash right into a Kia EV6. D’oh!

But beyond just the size and the trickiness of getting used to four-wheel steering, the truck’s corners, especially the rear ones, are just so far out there that it’s hard to have a great understanding of just where in space they are.

It helps that the Cybertruck has absolutely fantastic, crisp cameras, but they’re not quite enough to make maneuvering the F-150-sized truck easy in Los Angeles.

Compromise 3: It Has The Worst User Interface Of Any Vehicle I’ve Ever Driven

When it comes to the main user interface associated with actually using the vehicle for its primary function — driving — the Tesla Cybertruck gets a D minus. Even getting into the vehicle is a compromise that — instead of just requiring pulling a handle that’s presented to you, as is the case with other cars — requires multiple steps. First, if you don’t have the app on your phone, you have to put a key card up against the B-pillar:

Then you press the button at the base of the B-pillar (the strip with the white horizontal rectangle at the center — see image below):

Once you’ve pressed that, the door pops out, and you can slide your hand into the door jamb and grip the stainless steel door. Yes, you’re grabbing raw stainless steel; there’s no rubber pad on the backside for your hand to grip — it’s just steel, some of which is rather sharp:

It’s worth noting that, right after driving this Cybertruck, Beau and I hopped into the new Lotus Eletre, and it simply presented its door handles upon noticing that someone with a key fob was approaching. I grabbed the handle and opened the door; it was faster than the Cybertruck, and way, way more elegant.

Once you’re inside, you sit down and place your key card on the wireless charging pad.

That then activates the shifter on the screen. Yes, you read that right: the shifter on the screen.

We could list off the worst shifters of all time — maybe you hate the rotary dial shifter in the Chrysler Pacifica or Chrysler 200. Maybe you don’t like the monostable shifter in the early WK2-generation Jeep Grand Cherokee. Maybe you don’t like the tiny Toyota Prius shifter. Or the weird Nissan leaf ball-shaped shifter.

None of these are as bad as the Cybertruck’s “shifter,” because at least these are three-dimensional shifters. They can be used without requiring you to take your eyes off the road, and they offer a positive engagement that makes it easy to know which gear they’re in. The Cybertruck requires you to look at the screen, press your finger on the little cybertruck icon in that small vertical shifter “column,” and then slide it up to go into drive or downward to go into reverse.

The shifter works, and it isn’t confusing like some shifters can be, but I still struggle to find a worse transmission shifter in the automotive industry. There’s a reason why the Ford F-150 has stayed with its T-handle PRNDL shifter despite the fact that it takes up a bunch of space and doesn’t actually mechanically connect to the transmission: That’s what Ford’s customers want. They want a physical, substantial shifter. Ram went to a rotary dial, and that received a bunch of criticism, though I think most folks are used to that now. But this “shifter” in the Cybertruck? One with minimal feedback to tell you what’s going on and one that you cannot use without looking — it may work, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the worst of the bunch.

While we’re on the topic of things Tesla should have kept on a steering column stalk, let’s talk about the turn signals. They’re on the steering wheel.

The Cybertruck isn’t the first car with steering wheel-mounted turn signal buttons; I drove a Ford GT earlier this year, and it had wheel-mounted turn signal buttons. They sucked on the GT, and they suck just as bad on the Cybertruck. Turn signal switches should not move; you should know where they are at all times; the stalk that the rest of the industry uses is so common for a reason: It is the best version of that switch. It does its job perfectly; this is an example of Tesla fixing what isn’t broken.

You know what else isn’t broken? Gauge clusters situated just ahead of the driver. As you can see in the image above, there are no gauges in front of the driver; even the speed is off to the right in the center stack. This probably saves Tesla money over having a secondary screen ahead of the driver, but that doesn’t make this setup any better for the driver.

You know what also probably saves Tesla money? Foregoing buttons. Obviously, there are some buttons in the Cybertruck (I just mentioned the turn signal buttons), but the main vehicle functions are all controlled via a touchscreen. Heated seat switch? It’s on the touchscreen. Shifter (as I mentioned before)? Touchscreen. Radio? Touchscreen. Climate control? That’s on the touch screen. Even if you want to adjust your HVAC air vents, you have to use the touchscreen; it’s maddening. But nothing is more maddening than the fact that, in order to open the glovebox you have to use a button on the touchscreen.

Again, Tesla isn’t the first company to require opening the glovebox via a button on a touchscreen, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worse than a simple latch that the world has been using for many decades.

The truth is that the world wants buttons. In fact, when we wrote the article “Europe Is Requiring Physical Buttons For Cars To Get Top Safety Marks, And We Should, Too,” the comments were filled with supporters of the idea that America follow suit. We’re tired of having to use a touchscreen for everything; give us back our physical buttons!

In a world where people just want their physical buttons back, the Tesla Cybertruck is the worst culprit. It pushes everything onto that big center screen, and it doesn’t make the vehicle better at all.

Compromise 4: Visibility Isn’t Good

Because the Tesla Cybertruck’s tonneau cover slides down its sail pillars, when the cover is down, rear visibility out the rearview mirror is zero.

You see only the glare off the rear glass:

Even when the tonneau cover has been retracted, the rear visibility from that rearview mirror isn’t amazing:

For some reason, Tesla decided to put a rear camera on the center screen instead of integrating one into the rearview mirror.  So if you want to see which cars are behind you when you have the tonneau cover down, you have to look over to the right at the little image below the speedometer reading:

Forward visibility is OK, though the split A-pillars can cause some issues. I once totally missed some pedestrians crossing the street until my partner yelled at me.

Again, the Cybertruck’s surround-view cameras are great, but they’re no replacement for actually being able to see out of the vehicle.

Compromise 5: Smears Will Show Up Everywhere

Because the Cybertruck is made of unpainted stainless steel, handprints and dirt show up and stick out prominently.

Compromise 6: That Windshield Is Hard To Clean

If you look at where the windshield meets the front of the truck, you see that the Cybertruck is actually almost a cab-forward design. On an old vehicle, that would mean the driver is sitting at the very front of the machine. But because legs acting as crumple zones is no longer considered acceptable to the government, to insurance companies, or to the general population, the Cybertruck (and the new VW bus, for that matter) have the driver’s seat pushed way, way back relative to the base of the windshield.

The result is a humongous dashboard and a windscreen that feels like it’s a quarter mile from the driver. As a result, wiping off grime or fog is borderline impossible while seated.

Compromise 7: Reaching Over The Bedsides Can Be Tricky

The photo above shows me trying to reach over the Cybertruck’s bedsides as I load a dresser into the bed; a red arrow points out the charge port door, which opened as a result of me simply loading the vehicle.

This is obviously not ideal, even if overall I found the Cybertruck’s bed to be totally usable, and certainly more practical than many four-door pickup truck beds today.

Compromise 8: You Can Cut Yourself

As useful as the Cybertruck’s bed is, I was not thrilled when, while reaching over the driver’s side bedside and adjusting a fig tree that I had loaded into the bed, I actually cut myself:

Cut myself on the Tesla Cybertruck loading a fig tree. This edge on the bedside, which you reach over to grab things, is really suboptimal. pic.twitter.com/SqDUpo18EE

— David Tracy (@davidntracy) May 11, 2024

It’s a tiny scratch, really, but it wasn’t pleasant, and it was all because of this poorly-placed sharp edge:

 

Compromise 9: It’s Expensive And Heavy And Its Range Is Only So-So

The Tesla Cybertruck ain’t cheap. A base, 350-ish horsepower rear-wheel drive model costs about $60 grand, and if you want four-wheel drive and 600 ponies, that’ll cost you closer to 80 grand. What’s more, range for the base truck (which probably weighs about 6,000 pounds; the dual-motor weighs 6,600) is an estimated 250 miles, while the dual-motor four-wheel drive brings that up to 340. Sure, 340 isn’t a bad figure, but I’ve read reports about worse real-world range.

The fact is: It’s a big truck, its shape isn’t exactly the most aerodynamic, and that means it’s going to require heavy, expensive batteries to offer competitive range.

It’s All Of These Compromises That Make The Cybertruck Cool

The Cybertruck wouldn’t be a Cybertruck if not for these compromises. They are what make up the vehicle’s soul.

I realize that sounds absurd; am I really saying a vehicle’s flaws are what make it good? Am I really going to excuse these very obvious compromises — the terrible rear visibility that requires you to look at a camera image on the center stack to see what’s directly behind you, the poor speedometer position, the worst-in-the-industry shifter, the sharp edges that can cut you, the hard-to-clean windshield, the fingerprint-magnet body panels, the dumb steering wheel-mounted turn signals, the poor fit-and-finish, and the only so-so range coupled with a high price? Am I really going to say that these issues make the Cybertruck better?

Yes, I am. Sort of.

You see, there are some cars that make users deal with compromises that have no clear benefit. Take the VW ID.4’s cheap window switch design, which basically uses the same window up-down buttons for the front and rear, ostensibly to save money. This is just a bad compromise in a vehicle with a confused identity.

Then there are vehicles that make customers deal with compromises that actually bear fruit — ones that help give the vehicle soul. The Jeep Wrangler JL I mentioned earlier in this article comes to mind. Its overall shape doesn’t help with wind noise or fuel economy, but it still looks like a Jeep. That solid front axle doesn’t help the vehicle ride or handle very well, but it sure helps the vehicle off-road over seemingly-impossible terrain, and it makes lifting the Jeep significantly easier than an independent front suspension would. The Jeep look and that solid front axle help give the vehicle soul.

The Cybertruck falls into the Jeep’s camp. It set out to be something five years ago, and in order to be that thing — a low-polygon, brutalist machine that changes the way people perceive truck design, whether you (or the unhoused man) like it or not — it knew it would have to make compromises.

The shape couldn’t be the most aerodynamic, so range/weight/cost would suffer. The stainless steel panels would gather fingerprints and be tricky to manufacture; as a result, fit and finish would suffer. The sharp corners that gave the vehicle such a bold look could cut customers, the wacky tonneau cover would harm visibility, that windshield would be hard to reach, and on and on.

As for the interior functions, which weren’t really prominently shown in the concept car in 2019, they had to be bold and, in some ways, they had to continue Tesla’s trend of  “doing things for the sake of doing them, even if they make the car, arguably, worse” (see Tesla Model X Falcon Doors). The lack of door handles, the hard-to-use turn signal switches, the glove box switch, and especially that wacky shifter — they’re less about ensuring the truck maintains the soul of the concept that debuted in 2019, and more about making sure it maintains the soul of a Tesla. They’re about ensuring brand continuity. Wacky stuff with door handles and a “control everything through the screen” attitude is The Tesla Way.

The truth is, if Tesla rounded those sharp edges so they wouldn’t cut me when I reached into the bed; adjusted the shape to offer better range at a lower cost; installed a regular shifter; built the truck out of something less likely to see fingerprints and that could be assembled more easily with good fit and finish; removed the tonneau cover that blocks rear visibility — if Tesla did all of these, then the Cybertruck would not be the Cybertruck.

It is what it is because it refused to die by a thousand cuts.

The Tesla Cybertruck Doesn’t Deserve Hate From Enthusiasts, Even If It Does Deserve Some Criticism

Everyone wants to hate the Tesla Cybertruck to the point where I’ve seen experienced, veteran car journalists unable to remain objective about it. And I get it; the vehicle cannot be detached from highly controversial Tesla boss Elon Musk and his sometimes-rabid fans. It’s extremely difficult to talk about the Cybertruck without thinking about Musk and a bunch of wackjobs who would defend Tesla to the death, probably by insulting you on Twitter.

But the Cybertruck is a miracle. It is a vehicle with a clearly-defined soul, and that, especially to car enthusiasts, is worth admiring. It did not succumb to the dreaded “death by a thousand cuts,” even if it will leave your forearm with a couple. It stands proudly with all of its flaws so that it can be what it set out to be: a Cybertruck.

And overall, it really is a compelling machine. I know I just spent this entire article talking about compromises (and I didn’t mention them all; the visor mirrors are hilariously tiny/useless, the automatic emergency braking is too aggressive, etc), but there are so many positive attributes worth mentioning, too. Obviously, there’s the ~600 horsepower that rockets the 6,600-pound vehicle from zero to 60 mph in about four seconds; the thing is quick.

But more surprising than that is the ride quality, which is simply phenomenal for a truck on 35-inch tires. The truck is quiet and rides like a magic carpet even over speed bumps; honestly, I can’t think of a vehicle that dispatches speed bumps as well as the Tesla Cybertruck — it’s remarkable.

The interior is nice enough; it’s a little spartan design-wise, but the material quality is good enough, and with the quiet cabin, excellent ride, and top-notch sound system that lets you really bang tunes, it’s just a great place to be. And that applies to passengers up front or in the rear, as the space throughout the cabin is plentiful:

Plus, storage space is good, too, with smart use of the flat floor space between the driver’s and passenger’s floorboards (this space is often poorly utilized; Tesla’s done a great job with it), along with big door cubbies, a deep center console, a short but still usable frunk, and of course that highly-useful six-foot bed.

The biggest criticism that the Cybertruck deserves isn’t that it contains flaws, it’s that some of those flaws could have been fairly easily remedied without harming the vehicle’s soul. The shape and stainless steel construction — and the compromises that come with those — couldn’t really have easily been changed, but there are little things that could have been improved while still keeping the truck what it is. For example, a little plastic or rubber pad in the door jamb to receive your hand when you open your door (like that in the Ford Mustang Mach-E) wouldn’t be hard to include.

A camera in the rearview mirror instead of the center screen would have been easy enough. And while I think a lot of the UI complaints I have (the door opening-procedure, the center-mounted speedometer, etc) are just part of the “Tesla formula,” I do think the company could have gotten away with a column shifter and a column-mounted turn signal like that in some of its other cars. I think these two would have vastly improved the driving experience without detracting much from the Cybertruckishness.

It’s a slippery slope, though. “Death by a thousand cuts” is a dangerous thing. If you try to reduce too many of the customer’s compromises, you get to the point where you no longer have a Cybertruck. I’m glad Tesla didn’t go down that road, that it somehow managed to build a truck that so many considered impossible, and that it delivered something that — while not exactly what was promised — certainly has the same soul.

The Cybertruck is flawed, but at least it has an identity. It’s weird. Wacky. “Out there.” But as a diehard car enthusiast who appreciates “strange” stuff like Pontiac Azteks and AMC Gremlins and the pug-nosed, suicide door-having, carbon-fiber BMW i3 — I (and my co-presenter, Beau) have to appreciate that. Even if Elon and his fans sometimes annoy the heck out of me.

Update: “The Tesla Cybertruck Is A Miracle And Its Flaws Are What Make It Cool” was the headline I started out with, and while I stand by that (I do think it’s a miracle that Tesla pulled it off, and I do think the flaws are what enabled it to be so cool), let’s try the original headline I came up with for size, shall we?