At the reading Mary Robinette Kowal and I did in San Francisco, one member of the audience was wearing a Tesla Motors T-Shirt, and in conversation he mentioned he wasn’t just wearing it as an affectation, he really did work at Tesla Motors. At which point I used my Jedi mind tricks to get him to give me a Tesla Roadster. And lo, it worked, because this was waiting for me when I came back from (ironically) Detroit this weekend:
Excellent. Mind you, the intended scale of the car is a little off, but I blame that on my sloppy Jedi mind skills more than anything else. Athena asked what it was, and I said “It’s an electric motor sports car,” to which she said “Cool, can I have it?” To which I said, “Get in line.” We weren’t talking about exactly the same car in that short conversation, you understand.
While I’m unlikely in the immediate future to get a real Tesla Roadster, I have to say I’m delighted to finally be in a place and time where a car like the Roadster exists — i.e., an actual electric car that isn’t the automotive equivalent of eating bran in the morning. It’s doing more for the argument of weaning ourselves off our pathetic addiction to burning petroleum products than an entire army of Ed Begley, Jrs. could ever do. An entirely electric car may not be my next automobile purchase, but I’d bet a lot of money it’ll be the car purchase after that. And maybe then I’ll be able to afford the Roadster. A boy can dream.
In any event: Thanks, Greg, for a shiny new car.