It’s a conversation I’ve had with my eldest son several times, almost always on our bike ride to his elementary school.
He sees the white Tesla, which slips past us almost silently, and pulls up to the curb outside the schoolyard. Falcon-wing doors flip open (this particular model channels the DeLorean, for some reason), often making the students using the sidewalk swerve to avoid getting bonked in the head1. A bearded father in tight jeans gets out, ushers his kids towards the school door, and then glides off, apparently into a self-satisfied future.
I have to admit, there’s a certain Jetsons-style panache to the whole scene.
“But electric cars are better than regular cars, aren’t they, Dad?” my son will ask me. “I mean, not so polluting?”
Long pause.
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