What’s It Like Owning the Most Hated Vehicle in America?

“It’s not going to be for everyone.” That’s how Elon Musk first pitched the Cybertruck in 2019, in what may have been the understatement of the century. Five years later, now that the electric pickup is finally being made, delivered and driven by actual paying customers, it’s clear that this vehicle is why they coined the phrase “love it or hate it.”

Yet, that expression feels too genteel for the feelings that the Cybertruck inspires. Even for those innocent bystanders who want to say they don’t have an opinion either way, that they couldn’t care less about some billionaire’s sci-fi fantasy, now that there are thousands of Cybertrucks roaming the streets of this country, Americans are essentially forced to have an opinion. You can’t ignore this humongous stainless steel doorstop on wheels any more than you could ignore a UFO landing on your block. Your eyes can’t slide over it like the dozens of other trucks you see in a day. Arms are raised and fingers are pointed, as if by telekinesis, when the space-age Cybertruck rolls silently by.

When people are forced to pick sides in the Cybertruck debate, it appears that the scale is tipping heavily towards hate. Just look anywhere online where people are talking about Musk’s latest EV — well, anywhere that’s not a Tesla fan account, group, forum or channel — and it’s mostly people deriding the vehicle itself or dunking on those who dare to say anything positive about it. There have even been viral videos of Cybertruck owners supposedly being targeted in the real world for their vehicle of choice. One video on YouTube, titled “People Hate Tesla Cybertruck,” which shows a motorcyclist knocking off the side mirror of one and someone driving aggressively in a BMW next to another, has over 400,000 views.

Dan, a Cybertruck owner who lives in Minnesota (who declined to share his last name), had a similarly nerve-wracking experience in his EV. On a recent drive into work, a man in a red Silverado began to follow him on the freeway. When he turned off the highway, the other truck followed, and continued tailing him all the way to his office. When he slowly came to a stop in the parking lot, Dan said, the stranger “pulled in behind me.” Was the Chevy driver there to intimidate him? Guffaw in his face? Roll coal on his shiny, pointy ass?

As it turns out, the guy just wanted to chit-chat. He was so interested in hearing from a Cybertruck owner in the flesh that he went miles out of his way for the slim chance to shoot the shit. “The reality is people are really positive,” Dan said.

After a little over 1,000 miles of driving so far, the 44-year-old said the only real negative experiences he’s had are a couple hand gestures, and fairly benign ones at that.

“The same guy, I believe, on two different days gave me a thumbs down out his window,” he said. “But other than that, everything else has been completely positive — but a little bit of a hassle in the sense that people will wait to talk to you.” When he leaves a store and sees someone milling around near his truck, he knows nothing nefarious is going on, the loiterers are just waiting for him to come back so they can ask about the Cybertruck’s range, the giant windshield wiper or the body that’s reminiscent of the DeLorean in Back to the Future.

It’s not that the Cybertruck turns you into a celebrity per se, as some have suggested (and as the many celebrity owners have implied). It’s more accurate that it turns you into a Tesla ambassador. Dan equates it to his previous experience in his other vehicles from the automaker, going back to the first Model 3 that he bought in 2018 up to his current Model S Plaid and his fiancée’s Model X. For the last six years, he’s been fielding questions from strangers about everything from charging to maintenance. And so far, it’s been the same cordial, educational experience with the Cybertruck.

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As with so many online culture wars, the temperature has a funny way of plummeting when social media handles are swapped for face-to-face discussions. Even though Musk himself seems to be hell bent on politicizing the products he sells — most recently by throwing his millions of dollars and followers (not to mention the resources of X, the social media site he now owns) behind Donald Trump in the upcoming presidential election — that has so far been a nonfactor in Dan’s real-life Cybertruck experience.

“Yes, his political views are pretty wild,” he said. “[But] the vehicles are so good that I really am not concerned about who is the president or CEO.” And no one yet has brought up the newly minted MAGA bro during one of Dan’s parking lot Q & As.

These days, when we finally pry our eyes away from our phones that serve us a constant stream of the latest things making people mad, it seems most well-adjusted people want to hear about something, anything making their family, friends and acquaintances happy.

For Dan and his Cybertruck, he’s got plenty to gush about. If you meet him in a restaurant parking lot in Minnesota, ask him about when he first ordered the pickup. (It was almost five years ago, on the night it was first revealed, when orders first opened around midnight. “Like a Taylor Swift concert,” he laughed.) Or ask him about how the EV compares to his Ford F-250 diesel pickup. (“As far as power goes, the Cybertruck pulls way more, way smoother,” he said, though he admits the range loss is a problem when towing long distances.) Or ask him about how it compares to his other Teslas. (“It’s just not comparable to anything else,” he said. “Even when I get into my Model S or drive [the Model X], I’m like, ‘Goddammit.’”)

A few minutes after I finished my own Q & A with Dan, I got a text message from him. Did he forget a juicy story? Was there a titillating anecdote about an EV-hating or Tesla-hating or Musk-hating psycho that had slipped his mind? Did the thumbs down guy have another finger he wanted to flex?

“When I was towing a heavy 16,200-pound load, I ran into a closed section of highway due to a road construction project,” his message read. “I pulled over because I didn’t know if the road was open to through traffic. Another truck stopped to see the [Cybertruck] and offered to drive a couple miles down the dirt road to make sure it was open and came back to tell me that I could get through.”

He added, “People have been very nice.”