I Had A Tesla Cybertruck For The Weekend. Here’s Why I Ended Up Driving My BMW i3 Instead

If you have the keys to a Tesla Cybertruck for a weekend, you should drive the Tesla Cybertruck. No matter your thoughts on its styling or its general “vibe,” it is an awesome machine to experience. Why, then, did I decide on Saturday to drive the Cybertruck back to work, where my 2014 BMW i3 stood, so I could drive the little Bavarian all weekend? It comes down to a term I’m coining today — “Subconscious Comfort.” It’s an idea that could be obvious to many of you (and perhaps we have a word for it already), but even if so, just know that it’s what led me to give up the Cybertruck keys. Here, allow me to explain.

Back when I lived in Michigan, I accrued a lot of cars (14 at one point). I had half an acre at my disposal, rent was cheap, cars were cheap, and every car I bought became content that helped further my career. More importantly, my love for unique automobiles was strong and everlasting, and I enjoyed working on vehicles.

One question I frequently got from people during those days was: “How do you decide which car to drive?” The answer to that was complicated. Sometimes, the car I chose to drive was a conscious choice. “Man, I want to row that three-speed-on-the-column,” I’d think, and then I’d hop into my 1965 Plymouth Valiant. “That ZJ’s five-speed shifts like a dream, and that four-liter is torquey and smooth,” I’d think. “Plus, the ZJ is just such a historically significant car to me, with it having been my first car.” So I hop into the ZJ. If I’m feeling like having a bunch of fun, I’d fold down my 1948 Willys’ windshield and cruise. Maybe I felt like driving a classic truck? Then I’d jump into my 1985 Jeep J10.

 

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But oftentimes, the choice of vehicle was subconscious. I know this because I once owned a Lexus LX470 — basically a fancy 100-series Toyota Land Cruiser. I did not like that machine; it was thirsty, oversized, only so-so off-road, slow, and I could go on and on. On paper, it was not great. And yet, when it came time to do a basic errand, my hand would naturally reach for the Lexus keys over every other key. There was no thought that went into it: It was almost like a physiological choice that my body made for me.

Why was it that, any time I headed to the dentist or grocery store or fast food spot, I was always behind the wheel of that Lexus? It’s because it was supremely comfortable. It was so much quieter than any other car I owned, the seats were more comfortable, the ride was better, and at the same time, it had 260,000 miles on the clock and I wasn’t worried about it getting rusty or dinged up. To me, it was the easiest, cushiest car to drive.

It’s that same concept that led me to drive my i3 this weekend over the Cybertruck (which I’d already driven for a few days at that point — I’m grateful for the experience). The i3 just offered more of this “subconscious comfort.” And I should reiterate, I’m not saying that the i3 is more “comfortable” in a traditional sense; no, most reviewers would call the Cybertruck much more comfortable than an i3. Subconscious comfort isn’t about just ride quality, interior materials, or NVH mitigation — there are loads of factors that go into it. Here’s a list off the top of my head:

• Visibility
• Size (for ease of parking, especially in cities)
• Interior tech/apps
• Value (i.e. how worried you are about it being damaged)
• Reliability
• Ride comfort and handling
• Interior quietness (NVH)
• Fuel efficiency
• All-weather performance
• Refueling/recharging infrastructure

The reasons why I hung up the keys to the Cybertruck involved the truck’s size, its visibility, and its value. The thing is just too big to easily slither through tight city streets, and its visibility — despite its nice cameras — makes parking tricky. I actually hit a car, though it was slight (I’ll write about that a bit later). What’s more, the truck is just too valuable right now, and with its polarizing styling, it’s hard to feel anxious leaving it sitting anywhere for long.

I didn’t want to deal with all that, so I took the Cybertruck back to work, and grabbed my i3.

As soon as I was in the i3, I felt so much more at ease. Obviously, some of that has to do with the fact that I was used to it, but its size, visibility, and lack of flashiness/value were key to making it the right car for my weekend.

I’ll soon have a newer BMW i3 in my fleet, and that thing will have Apple Carplay, making it likely the most “subconsciously comfortable” car in my fleet. And that includes my girlfriend’s Lexus RX350, a vehicle that rides much better than my i3, and whose interior is, while perhaps not as pretty, certainly more cushy.

And yet, when my girlfriend or I reach for a key to do a basic errand, we always choose the i3. It’s smaller, easier to maneuver, and it’s electric. Firing up a gas engine, and knowing you’re burning fuel that you’ll have to replenish at a gas station instead of just plugging in, just makes hopping into the Lexus for a basic errand feel more mentally straining. Perhaps less “easy.” Maybe the term should be “subconscious ease”? I’m not sure, but I can tell you that what I’m describing isn’t just about ride and NVH — it’s a complex thing involving lots of factors.

If I lived in, say, a snowy place, then certainly the all-wheel drive Lexus on Michelin Crossclimate 2’s would be the car whose keys I’d naturally grab. If I had to go on a long road-trip, I’d probably snag the Lexus’ keys, since the BMW i3’s range extender is a bit loud and just makes me feel uncomfortable due to its lack of reliability.

Yes, reliability plays into Subconscious Comfort. Legendary Autopian writer The Bishop knows what I’m talking about. Here are a few paragraphs from him about his similar experience with a Lexus (shown below):

Let’s say you have just two cars. One is primarily driven by a person that will call you screaming and crying when it breaks down because it’s YOUR FAULT, and your two kids are sitting in the thing as semis whiz by within inches. If faced with that situation, you choose a vehicle with your head and not your heart. I despise almost everything about our 2009 Lexus LX570, but I’ve never gotten a call from the side of the road.

What I hate even more about it is that on weekends, when I need to take a quick trip to the store or the bank, I’m halfway down the street when I realized that I’m not in my German daily driver but instead the hated SUV. I subconsciously took the keys and drove away? Why is that? My guess is that somehow sitting high up in silence with air conditioning that cools the car in seconds overrules road manners all day long in suburbia. Hell, the Lexus doesn’t have any “road manners” at all, nor does it feature “fuel economy”. Muscle memory likely comes into play, just like how you grab those ugly shoes in the closet instead of the slick looking ones that kill your heels. Your body chooses the path of least resistance- at least at my age.

That’s really well put! Choosing which car to drive often is a subconscious choice that your body makes to follow “the path of least resistance,” factoring in so many different things. I’m not sure there’s a term yet for this “thing” that certain cars have over others so I’m just going to call it “subconscious comfort.” My BMW i3, an electric luxury subcompact hatchback with loads of visibility and reliability along with a rather low flashiness/value on the marketplace, has this in spades. At least, in fair-weathered California, where my girlfriend and I reach for its keys every time we have to do a basic errand.

Anyway, I realize that choosing a smaller, nimbler, less valuable, less flashy subcompact over a big truck in a city sounds fairly obvious, but this article was just a way for me to discuss this concept of “subconscious comfort,” because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Because it’s not the same as just “ride comfort” or “interior” comfort. It’s a combination of factors, many obvious, some not so much.