I drove to Ikea today.
New stuff for my new life. New city. New job. New energy.
I was expecting traffic, maybe a little existential dread—but I was not expecting the parade of sleek, strange, glorious electric vehicles that sailed past me on the I-35 like I’d driven my trusty Jeep into the future.
Granted, I’ve spent the last five years in Long Covid isolation in rural New Mexico, where the most advanced technology is still a septic tank and a permed mullet. So yeah—a bagel toaster from the Pecos flea market with only one knob missing might impress me right now.
But these cars?
They floored me.
First came the Waymo—the self-driving Google dork mobile zipping through traffic like it was late for debate practice and couldn’t find its retainer. Later, I learned that Austin is one of only a few U.S. cities piloting them—because, of course, it is.
Then came the rest. One after another. Smooth, shiny, unnervingly quiet.
And, while it might surprise any number of perpetually online MAGA Musk apologists, none of them were Teslas.
What I saw instead was this:
9 EV Companies Dominating Austin’s Roads While Teslas Quietly Die of Embarrassment
Lucid Motors – The actual luxury EV, with 500+ mile range and a face like Blade Runner went to finishing school. Every time one passed me, I instinctively mumbled, “Oh, wow.”
Rivian – Big, outdoorsy trucks and SUVs for rich people who look like they eat lentils on purpose and kayak before brunch. I saw three in the Ikea parking lot alone.
Polestar – Volvo’s emotionally intelligent cousin. Minimalist, icy, stunning. The kind of car that rarely sends apology texts, but when it does, it means it.
Hyundai Ioniq 5 / Kia EV6 – South Korea said, “What if we make EVs that look like retro-futurist art installations and cost less than Elon’s child support?”
Fisker – Beachy, sustainable, L.A.-vegan-core from Denmark. I saw one at a stoplight and it radiated climate-positive hot yoga instructor energy.
BYD (Build Your Dreams) – A Chinese EV titan quietly taking over the world. They’re not flashy. They just work. Austin engineers nod respectfully as they pass.
Canoo – Austin-based. Looks like a toaster and a space capsule had a baby. You drive this if your living room has reclaimed barn wood and no TV.
VinFast – From Vietnam, trying very hard. You might not have heard of it yet, but I saw one parked outside the self-serve dog wash where your dogs doesn’t actually serve themselves, you do.
Aptera – Three-wheeled, solar-powered, and built like a Star Wars prop. I saw one cruising down South Congress like it had been summoned through a wormhole.
And Teslas?
Oh, they were there too.
But they all had this new vibe.
Like your Tinder date who was hot until he opened his mouth and started quoting Jordan Peterson.
Their drivers looked… ashamed. And I don’t blame them.
I’m honestly expecting to see a bumper sticker soon that says: “Please don’t hurt me, I bought it before I knew he was a Nazi.”
Because let’s be real—Elon Musk isn’t the future. He’s the expired flabby Jell-O “salad” side dish of the tech revolution. He moved to Austin thinking he’d be king, but the city yawned. It was too busy building, thriving, moving on.
C’mon. The only people on earth who still think Elon Musk is some kind of tech genius or innovator are demented old men who spell hamburger with a D, and MAGA cult members who’ve never been near an EV because their vehicle of choice is a throaty lifted ‘murkin pickup with massive Trump flags flying from poles bolted to the bed, flags whose size exists in inverse proportion to their owners’ capacity for basic arithmetic, or shame.
Musk became obsolete the moment he aligned himself with a crusty death cult of flatulent geriatrics trying to ALL CAPS TWEET the 1950s back into existence, as though time could be bullied to move backward by bad spelling alone. Meanwhile, Austin’s median age is 34, its vibe is carbon-neutral hotness, and its streets are filled with engineers who treat flabby fascist man-boobs like the ultimate design flaw.
No wonder Mr. Sniveling Nazi Salute built a gated compound for his Tesla employees and baby-mamas to live in—he doesn’t want them out here, seeing what the rest of Austin is driving to the Ikea parking lot. He doesn’t want them to see that his peak already happened.
And he was too high to notice it.
I just went to Ikea.
But on the way there, I witnessed a hateful sociopath dressed like Janet Jackson in her Rhythm Nation days, who cries about his stock portfolio as he tries to steal my 80-year-old mother’s social security check, become obsolete in a town he wished would pick him for its team. Wished so hard he did jumping jacks at a Trump rally.
Austin said fuck no, bruh.
And it was beautiful.
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Because someone’s gotta call bullshit—while driving a humble Jeep Cherokee past a Lucid in the HOV lane.
I love how you write! The snark is next level giving hot woman at cool bar drinking a mocktail vibe while easily eviscerating the luring guy at the end of the bar before he realizes if he moves, his head falls off.
Love it!
Nail - Meet hammer.
Keep slinging that pen, it’s perfect.