Adventures Test Driving an EV: How I Made the Sales Guy Hurl

Will my Knight Rider dreams come true?

There comes a time in every mom’s life when she realizes her current family hauler is no longer making the cut.

It is a sad day.

“We’ve been through so much together,” I say, rubbing the hood of my 2021 VW Atlas, “like the time we almost hit a cow, but we’ve hit a rough patch,” I continued.

“You’re starting to create more hassle for me with all of your airbag issues and recalls, and the vinyl seats I once found charming are really starting to chafe my skin.”

My car said nothing.

So I did what had to be done. I found my black leather jacket, some black boots and called the nearest EV dealer that wasn’t anywhere near my home and arranged a test drive.

In my mind, I was shopping for my very own K.I.T.T from Knight Rider. If you have to google this reference, you are too young to know me.

I listened to the Knight Rider theme song on repeat on the way to the dealer, or showroom as they’re called in the land of EVs.

I was obsessed with Knight Rider as a kid. Maybe it was Michael Knight’s dreamy hair. Maybe it was the tufts of chest hair always on display. Maybe it was the lovable, curmudgeon, sidekick talking car, K.I.T.T. Whatever it was, I was hooked.

So began my quest to find my very own K.I.T.T. I did my research and had a list of questions at the ready.

Will the car come to me when summoned? Will he have my back in a knife fight? Will he bail me out if I’m ever jailed? Will the car make snarky remarks or insult me? Will it laugh at my jokes? Would it sense danger before any human could?

I couldn’t wait to find out.

When I arrived, I was greeted by two twenty-something bros who showed me around the hip, boutique hotel-esque showroom and offered me a mushroom latte.

I’m good, thanks.

They disappeared into the break room, presumably to draw straws as to who would have the privilege of taking a middle-aged soccer mom on a test drive in one of their too-cool-for-normal-coffee cars.

The short-straw-drawing loser came out, head down.

“Alright ma’am, do you have a color preference?” He asked, unable to mask his annoyance.

“Black!” I bleated out like an injured goat.

“I think we have one on the lot. Yep, let’s go take her for a spin, but before we do, I’ll show you some of the key features. Have you ever driven an electric vehicle?”

“Does my kid’s electric scooter count?”

He massaged his eyebrows.

We got in and he proceeded to show me about 300 different secret storage compartments. How do you rummage around the storage bin that’s tucked behind your left foot while driving? What in the hell do you even put in there?

After he finished going over the countless, overly complicated storage areas, it was time for take off.

The bro warned me it would be a very different driving experience, but neither of us was prepared for the bumper-car simulated experience that ensued.

Not one minute in and the bro turned green, clutched the door and reminded me to treat it like a golf cart and ease my foot off the gas to brake.

“So what’s the brake for?” I demanded.

“The brake is essentially just for show,” he said in-between his lamaze breathing.

What the?!

I ignored him and continued to do things my way. After I eventually got the feel for it and the dude was done dry-heaving, things got kind of fun.

Since he was trapped in the passenger seat, I thought it was a good time to pepper him with my questions.

I started with some normal ones like the different drive modes and whether or not they had access to Tesla’s super chargers. He informed me they would have access to the ‘broader North American network of EV chargers’ in 2024.

“So the Tesla chargers, right?” I prodded.

“Technically yes, but here at ‘Not your mom’s EV,’ we like to refer to them as the broader North American network of EV chargers.”

“Gotcha — it just rolls off the tongue.” I added, like a dick.

He shot me an icy look.

After a few more questions about accessing Tesla’s charging network, I quickly realized that mentioning “Tesla” was akin to talking about someone’s mom. You just don’t do it.

I lobbed a couple more softball questions at him and then decided it was time to get to the heart of the matter. Was this thing a K.I.T.T. 2.0 or something more ominous?

When I asked the bro if the car had ever killed anyone, he assured me it was a very safe vehicle that had undergone rigorous crash testing and had even won some award in Iceland. Cool — Iceland has 30 people driving at any given time.

When I told him that’s not what I meant, he gave me the side eye.

I asked him if the car would come to me when beckoned. He told me about some bullshit software update they’ll potentially roll out in 2028.

“That’s great, but what if I’m in a real pickle, like a bar fight or something, will the car sense it and come to my rescue?”

Silence.

I started to hum the Knight Rider theme song.

He had no idea what I was humming because he was born after I graduated college, so he decided to take the opportunity to show me the radio.

After swiping through 20 different screens he found the radio interface and explained the 500 different settings.

I asked him if we could listen to the Britney Spears station.

He pretended not to hear me and put on the “hipster bbq” station.

What do they eat at a hipster barbecue? I pondered. Chia seed crusted yuppies?

I decided to give the dealer bro one last panic attack by parallel parking back at the showroom. Before I started, I asked him if the car did that on its own.

He said it did not, but informed me how it will brew a mushroom latte for drivers who wear vegan leather and make homemade hemp butter.

I concluded the left-foot storage compartment was where people kept their mushroom latte pods.

I parallel parked like a badass, narrowly missing one of the other EVs on the lot and hopped out. I shook his hand and thanked him for his time.

He held onto the side of the car and puked. Bro definitely indulged in some mushroom lattes from what I could see.

I walked away feeling satisfied as I got into my good ole’ Atlas.

I didn’t find my future K.I.T.T., but I have a whole new appreciation for my clunky Atlas. Maybe we’ll hang out a bit longer.

She definitely doesn’t have my back in a bar fight or working airbags, but the radio sure is easy to use.

Off I go, a lone crusader in a dangerous world. The world… of the Knight Rider. (Courtesy of Knight Rider)