The Tesla Roadster was beginning to look like vaporware. Silicon Valley failed to deliver its first car on time. The traditional auto industry was sniggering. But let's cut Tesla some slack. Does Motown always get its stuff onto the showroom floor dead on schedule? Especially its paradigm-shift products? Of course not.
And now the Roadster is here. Orders are being fulfilled, which is just as well as recent retrenchment by the company shows they need all the revenue they can get.
The car we drive today has the final single-speed transmission. Earlier press testers used a two-speed unit, often locked in second because it had durability issues. The single-speed finally realizes the dream of the electric car: absolutely progressive, smooth, transparent acceleration.
And boy does it deliver. The powertrain is now so intuitive that I seldom thought about it. Repeat for emphasis: I've driven a car with performance better than a Corvette Z51, and I hardly thought about the propulsion. The performance is an extension of your brain: the amount you've squeezed your foot is directly related to the proportion of its surge the motor delivers. No need to make sure you're on boost or on the cam, or in the correct gear. Nothing to think about. All to enjoy.
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