Also it is not a work truck. So you if you are dropping pallets in it every day, you will use some cheap pickup with no options, not your premium $100k vehicle.
Just like you will drive uber with your Camry and not use S class for uber.

The Tesla was easily the most intimidating because of its steer-by-wire system. For those unfamiliar, the Cybertruck’s rectangular “wheel” rotates just 0.9 turns lock to lock, with the actual steering response (from all four wheels) varying with driving conditions. Around town, we found the steering worked intuitively in all but low-speed parking lot turns, where the quickening of the ratio plus the lack of visibility to the sides meant we struggled to avoid clipping corners. Out on Kanan’s fast curves, the Cybertruck felt competent and confident, but our concern was how the steering would work on Decker Canyon’s sharp twisties. Given that it was released by the same company who gave us the misleadingly named and fault-prone (though improving) Full Self-Driving, we had good reason for concern.


Turns out steering wasn’t the Cybertruck’s problem, or at least not its biggest one. Sure, the steering felt a little funky, but it was (usually) predictable enough for fast driving—fast being the operative word, because the Tesla is the quickest truck here. Whether or not Beast mode is engaged, it has the same point-and-squirt power as the Rivian. Ramp up the speed, though, and the Beast falls apart. The grip disappears as if someone threw a switch. The steering loses its predictability in tight corners. The regenerative braking is good, but the friction brakes are terrible, with a long-travel pedal that feels like it’ll never grab the discs. (We did discover a useful hack for a tight turn: Turn the steering yoke hard to the stop and let the understeering front tires scrub off speed while the rears point the truck in the right direction.)

While we made excellent progress in the Cyberbeast, achieving a pace we’d never expect from a pickup truck, we still felt like we could never get into a rhythm. The Cybertruck is a lot like the head of the company that makes it: One can never be entirely sure what it will do next.

After much back and forth, we put the Tesla Cybertruck in third place. Its polarizing styling makes it seem like a one-trick pony, which is a shame, because it really isn’t; the technology here has some great potential, particularly the steer-by-wire system, which is quite artfully done but needs further development. It’s the quickest truck here by far despite being down on power compared to the others (and on motor count compared to the Rivian), and it has the biggest bed with the highest payload. Compared to other Tesla models, its interior feels more like sci-fi whimsy and less like cost-cutting minimalism. The Cybertruck really does feel like a pickup from the future.

Still, it struggles to hide its shortcomings. The Tesla’s range is the shortest here, and its unimpressive turning circle means it doesn’t put its four-wheel steering to good use the way the Hummer does. The driving experience never really gels like it does in the Rivian. We know Tesla’s Autopilot doesn’t work as well as GM’s Super Cruise (and don’t get us started on so-called FSD), but we couldn’t even try it on the Cybertruck because Tesla hasn’t finished writing the software. And just a few days with the Tesla showed us that stainless-steel body is going to be an absolute nightmare to live with; you can’t use hot water to clean it, fingerprints multiply like lecherous rabbits, and you must immediately clean off any bugs on the body panels to avoid damaging the finish. Sure, the Tesla is arguably the most novel truck here, but once the novelty wears off, what do you have? Tesla fanatics will no doubt treasure the Beast, but it feels to us like the Christmas present we’ll tire of most quickly.