Posted by Maria Palma in
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general on 05 25th, 2011 |
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Tesla Rolls Past Six Clicks, So What?
So, according to Chuck Squatriglia over at Wired’s Autopia, a guy that owns a Tesla roadster has just rolled the odo. past 100-thousand. And that’s clicks (Kilometers), by the way. On the one hand, there’s a lot for your typical lunk-skulled gearhead to whine about, but there’s another, bigger level here: So what? Here’s what: We are going to have to deal with electric cars. Period. Let me say that one more time: We are going to have to deal with electric cars. No amount of droning and bitching and moaning, no amount of wishful thinking is going to let us (i.e. humans) keep producing cars of the “efficiency” of a built 1968 GTX by the tens of thousands. There are many, and on some days, I am one of them, that this is a terrible loss not just for the people who are in to cars, but also humanity in general. That might be the case. But it is also the undeniable fact that designing, building, manufacturing, owning, running, maintaining and disposing of vehicles like that (even their modern equivalents) is going to become so astronomically expensive (in terms of money, enviro impact, morality, etc.) that we are going to be driving alternatives. In other words: If you’re a gearhead, then you’re going to have to learn to live with electric cars. That is why it is important to note that this fellow, Hansjörg von Gemmingen has just rolled over the big 100 (yes, even if it is in 100-thousand of those diabolical, socialist metric system thingos (why next thing you know, they’ll start measuring Mustang engines using the metric system!)). “But, but … ” you’ll hear the knuckle-dragging stupes sputter before launching into some screed about how this is demeaning, not only to our societal system, but to us as free and thinking individuals. They’ll start losing it and will start mawkishly going on about “basic market principles” and “our God-given rights” to own something that weighs 5300 pounds at the curb (or should I say kerb?), ready to drive down to the track for the day, loaded with coolers and beer and your stash and 3 of your buddies and two new girls, burning about 5 gallons of dino-juice for every mile your lead right foot commands it to cover. But nothing,...