And then I chanced upon a LivingSocial deal that let me drive a Roadster S for a day. For the record, I've driven a handful of supercars and more than my share of regular sports cars. I have almost never felt what I did in the Tesla (with the exception of the Gallardo), mainly because of the instant thrust available at any RPM. It was not like anything I ever felt before. As I drove, I felt inexplicably that this was the car of the future -- as a tech aficionado, I was finally driving a car that felt like the future. The lack of an engine roar was strangely soothing (and I LOVE engine roars!). The pickup meant that I could smoke most Maseratis on the 0-60. The thrill of pressing down on the accelerator and feeling the thrust in your chest was unparalleled (again, with the exception of the Gallardo). As I drove past clubs in San Francisco with their Porsches and Bentleys outside, I felt above it all in my tiny all-electric sports car. They were stupid flash-mongers; I was one with my machine. There is something pure and beautiful about driving a Tesla Roadster, well beyond the gas-free aspect. This was the thoroughly impractical car that my inner child always wanted from the future.
It thrilled me to drive that car in a way that I cannot fully describe. I am an eminently rational man. I have children, and am not prone to being wild and reckless. But now, as a result of driving that beautiful machine, as soon as my GOOG stocks vest, I will be driving down to Menlo Park, CA with my checkbook in hand to drive out with a Roadster.
That, dear friends, is how Tesla will turn a profit, in the face of ridiculous product shortcomings like range. They enchant, and they delight, and because of that I will gladly open my pocketbook for Elon Musk.