There is no car that's been released recently that is as much of an embarrassment as the Cybertruck. And now, all the idiots who spent $100k for one will be driving a vaporware car. How will they get parts for it? Will Tesla keep up with recalls? We know Musk doesn't care about laws, especially when they are meant to protect people.

I'm also sad because driving a Cybertruck meant the person is guillible and can be easily fleeced. If things ever get bad financially, I could count on getting into the inner circle of a Cybertruck owner and embezzling whatever money is left over after their child support payments and monthly creatine order clears. Loopholes closing too fast these days, man.

Farewell To The Cybertruck, A Total Failure:

Few vehicles live on in history as metonyms for failure and embarrassment. Edsel, DeLorean, whatever poor beleaguered machine ferries the Sacramento Kings to a given road game instead of doing them the favor of exploding along the way. Add to these the Cybertruck...

Buying and driving a Cybertruck, then, pretty much by definition marked you as a simp for Musk, a sucker, a cornball, a dork, a tryhard— Total Recall's Johnny Cab minus critical thinking and sex appeal, but with personal fealty to a multibillionaire Nazi half as charming as the smell of an uncapped septic tank. And it marks you that way at gargantuan size and instantly recognizable shape: Pedestrians, cyclists, and other drivers can spot a Cybertruck from half a mile away, giving them plenty of time to prepare their thumbs-down or their middle finger.

Imagine owning a totem of some other asshole's hubris, prepubescent taste, and piss-poor judgment. The only thing more pathetic than conceiving and designing the Cybertruck is buying one.