You know that feeling when you step on the gas in your car and everything builds gradually—the revs climb, the transmission downshifts, you feel the car gathering momentum? Yeah, forget all that. In the Tesla Model S Plaid, it's more like stepping off a cliff while strapped to a rocket. One second you're sitting still, the next you're pinned to your seat wondering if the laws of physics just filed a formal complaint.

I spent a few hours with Jason and his brand-new Model S Plaid, and honestly, I'm still processing what 1,020 horsepower feels like when it's delivered instantly, silently, and with the kind of violence that makes you question your previous understanding of fast cars. This isn't hyperbole—it's genuinely the most powerful vehicle I've ever driven, and the experience left me equal parts impressed and exhausted.

Here's what's wild about this car: it doesn't matter if you think electric vehicles are soulless appliances. It doesn't matter if you can't stand Elon Musk's Twitter antics or think Tesla's yoke steering wheel is a publicity stunt. Strip away all that noise, and what you're left with is a sedan that's ridiculously spacious, supremely comfortable, and easier to drive than my grandmother's Buick. In every way that matters, the Model S Plaid delivers on the three pillars of traditional American luxury: space, comfort, and effortless power.

Is it perfect? Hell no. Tesla's obsession with reinventing perfectly functional things means this car comes with some genuinely stupid quirks. And for something packing over a thousand horsepower, it could definitely look more menacing. But here's the thing—its strengths are so overwhelming that unless another American manufacturer steps up with a real answer, this might be the most impressive luxury sedan we've got right now.

What Makes a Plaid a Plaid

The Model S has been Tesla's flagship since 2012, which makes it practically ancient in electric car years. Despite multiple updates and a complete redesign, it's the Plaid trim that finally pushes this sedan into legitimate supercar territory.

We're talking about a car that starts at $131,190 (Jason's test car was loaded to $147,190) and delivers performance that would've been pure fantasy a decade ago. The party piece is a massive 100-kWh battery pack feeding three electric motors that collectively spit out 1,020 horsepower and 1,050 pound-feet of torque. All-wheel drive comes standard, the whole package weighs 4,766 pounds, and somehow it still manages 396 miles of EPA-rated range.

Tesla claims this thing hits sixty mph in 1.99 seconds and runs the quarter-mile in 9.23 seconds. Having experienced both scenarios multiple times, I can tell you those numbers might actually be conservative. The acceleration doesn't feel like traditional automotive propulsion—it's more like being launched from a catapult designed by someone with serious anger management issues.

Yet despite all this performance insanity, the Plaid still offers 28 cubic feet of cargo space, seats five adults comfortably, and achieves a drag coefficient of 0.208 that puts most sports cars to shame. These aren't just impressive numbers—they represent a complete rethinking of what a performance luxury sedan can be.

Looks: Disappointingly Subtle

Here's where I've got to be honest about my first letdown with the Plaid. For a car that can embarrass most supercars, it looks remarkably... ordinary. Sure, Tesla added a slightly more aggressive front bumper and some subtle body tweaks, but you'd struggle to pick this thing out of a Model S lineup from across a parking lot.

This feels like a massive missed opportunity. If Porsche can throw "Turbo" badges on electric cars, surely Tesla could've borrowed more styling cues from traditional performance cars. Where's the hood scoop? Where are the aerodynamic wings and splitters? This car runs quarter-miles in nine seconds flat—it should at least try to look the part.

The interior continues Tesla's minimalist obsession, which works better here than in something like the Model 3. That huge 17-inch touchscreen actually integrates pretty nicely into the dashboard, creating a cleaner overall look. Still, I keep thinking about competitors like the Porsche Taycan, with its gorgeous curved displays, dedicated passenger screen, and beautifully crafted surfaces that actually look expensive.

Sure, the Tesla has real wood trim and countless digital tricks, but it feels like minimalism for minimalism's sake. You could argue that a lot of Tesla's interior choices are just cost-cutting disguised as innovation—it's definitely cheaper to eliminate air vents and replace physical buttons with touchscreen menus.

The most controversial piece isn't what's missing, though—it's what Tesla insists on including. That yoke steering wheel is mandatory on every Plaid, and as we'll discuss, it's probably the dumbest part of an otherwise smart car.

Driving American Luxury, Redefined

Classic American luxury cars—your Cadillac Eldorados, Lincoln Continentals, high-end Chryslers—all shared certain DNA. They were about making driving as effortless as possible, with spacious interiors and ridiculous amounts of power. They were big, soft, and completely confident in their own excess. By those standards, the Model S Plaid absolutely qualifies as the next evolution of American luxury.

With a wheelbase longer than a Mercedes E-Class, this Tesla feels properly large inside while staying manageable on the road. The lack of a transmission tunnel means ridiculous amounts of passenger space, especially in the back. Being electric also means a tomb-quiet cabin and a driving experience that's more relaxing than anything with an internal combustion engine could ever achieve.

No gear changes interrupting acceleration. No engine noise drowning out conversation. No vibrations through the steering wheel. Thanks to adjustable regenerative braking, I drove for long stretches without touching the brake pedal at all. If automatic transmissions evolved us from three pedals to two, then one-pedal driving is the natural next step—and ease of operation is luxury at its most basic level.

This particular Model S handled and rode beautifully. The power was always there when you wanted it, never intrusive when you didn't. Even the steering impressed me—slightly heavier than some competitors but with excellent feel and good communication about what the tires were doing. With most of the car's weight sitting low in that floor-mounted battery, the center of gravity is basically underground, making the Plaid surprisingly nimble through corners despite its size.

The acceleration deserves its own paragraph because it's genuinely unlike anything else you can buy. The Plaid doesn't just have four-digit horsepower—it has all-wheel drive and grippy Michelin Pilot Sport tires that let it use every bit of that power without drama. After multiple runs as both passenger and driver, I was legitimately tired afterward. Not because the car was hard to control, but because experiencing that kind of violence repeatedly takes it out of you.

The beautiful thing is that the Plaid never demands to be driven aggressively. That insane performance is completely optional—always available, always on tap, but never in your face unless you specifically ask for it.

Tesla's Autopilot worked fine when Jason drove but refused to engage for me, which was weird. Despite multiple attempts and even stopping to reset things, the car just wouldn't respond to my inputs on that ball-shaped control. When it worked, it kept prompting for hands-on-wheel contact and gave clear warnings when it thought someone was pushing boundaries. Whether Autopilot actually keeps drivers behaving responsibly is still up for debate, but the technology is undeniably impressive when it functions properly.

Autopilot issues aside, the car surprised me with how extreme yet approachable it felt. The phrase that kept coming to mind was "1,000-horsepower electric living room," and if someone asked whether such a thing existed, there'd only be one answer about where it came from.

The Yoke: When Cool Beats Functional

Which brings us to that steering yoke—probably the most controversial thing about the whole Plaid experience. Tesla's decision to make this airplane-style steering apparatus mandatory on all Plaids feels like classic form-over-function thinking, and not in a good way.

On highways where you're barely turning the wheel, the yoke works fine. It's different but manageable. The problems show up in specific situations that Tesla apparently didn't think through. Three-point turns and parking lot navigation become unnecessarily awkward compared to a normal steering wheel. Long highway on-ramps and off-ramps that require sustained steering angles force you into uncomfortable arm positions where you end up crossing your hands.

These issues suggest that someone—probably Elon—wanted the yoke because it looks futuristic, not because it actually improves the driving experience. Your brain eventually adapts to using it, but why would you want to rewire your muscle memory for something that's objectively worse than a regular steering wheel?

The capacitive buttons mounted on the yoke make things worse. Turn signal activation never felt natural, and it was way too easy to trigger them accidentally while adjusting the volume on that scroll wheel nearby. Jason admitted he does this constantly and agreed that traditional stalks would just work better.

Another new feature in the Plaid is the all-digital shifter that shows up on the touchscreen instead of using a physical lever. This actually works better than it sounds. The shifter only appears when you're stopped, and you just swipe forward or backward to pick your direction. But the car's sensors are smart about anticipating what you want.

If it detects you're parked nose-first against a wall, for example, a "tap brake for reverse" prompt shows up automatically, so you don't need to swipe anything. Similarly, if you need to pull forward out of a spot, you'll see a "tap brake for drive" message. It sounds backwards at first, but I got used to it quickly and actually started to like it.

Competition: Pretty Much Nonexistent

The Plaid's $131,190 starting price seems steep until you look at the competition—or the complete lack thereof. The closest thing performance-wise is Porsche's 750-horsepower Taycan Turbo S, which starts at $186,350. That's more than $50,000 additional before you even think about Porsche's famously expensive options list. Even a maxed-out Plaid only hits about $150,190, with Tesla's questionable Full Self-Driving package accounting for ten grand of that.

Beyond the Taycan, there really isn't any direct competition. Gas-powered supercars play in completely different categories for obvious reasons. Traditional sport sedans like the BMW M5, Mercedes-AMG E63 S, or Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing exist in totally different performance universes. Even the impressive Taycan Turbo S can't match the Plaid's straight-line brutality. The Model S Plaid basically sits in a category of one, yoke and all.

Connecting the Big Picture

At this point, it wouldn't be a Tesla without some controversy. Questions started flying immediately after the Plaid's debut: does a 1,000-horsepower car that runs 9.2-second quarter-miles really need half a steering wheel? Does that steering setup actually make sense anywhere? Only time will fully answer those questions, but my few hours with the car started making some things clear.

The Tesla had obvious flaws, and I could definitely list improvements I'd make. But that almost misses the point. There was something about driving this machine that felt fundamentally easy and simple in a way that added up to genuine luxury, minimalist interior aside. I realized this was closer to the ideal American luxury car than anything else I'd ever driven.

Before getting his Plaid, Jason owned a Cadillac CTS-V. He's a real car guy and longtime fan of powerful American sedans. He's willing to criticize Tesla when they screw up, but he's also ready to embrace what a lot of people see as the future of performance and luxury.

The potential end of new gas car sales might be causing chaos worldwide, but the ones we already have aren't disappearing anytime soon. That means cars like the Model S Plaid can coexist with traditional options, representing a new chapter rather than a total replacement.

American Luxury DNA

Classic American luxury cars shared certain traits: they were big, comfortable, powerful, and effortless to drive. Their whole philosophy centered on making transportation as easy and pleasant as possible. Air conditioning debuted in American luxury cars. V8 engines needed fewer gear changes than smaller engines. Automatic transmissions eliminated manual shifting entirely. When Rolls-Royce licensed GM's Hydramatic transmission in 1952, it was acknowledging that effortless driving was and still is a universally recognized luxury feature.

The Model S Plaid gets this completely and represents the next step in that evolution. Two-pedal driving becomes one-pedal driving. Flat floors create more space and comfort, just like whisper-quiet electric motors. The soft rumble of a V8 in something like a Cadillac Escalade gets replaced by a gentle electric whir when you call for power. And when you do ask for that power, it gets delivered in tremendous excess. What's more American than pure, unapologetic excess?

Living with the Excess

The physical experience of driving something this powerful is genuinely taxing. Multiple acceleration runs left me tired—not because the car was difficult to manage, but because your body just isn't used to those forces. Your nervous system works overtime trying to process what's happening.

Yet the Plaid never felt scary or uncontrollable. That massive power stayed completely optional, there when you wanted it but never demanding attention during normal driving. Tesla's traction control and all-wheel drive mean you can access all that performance safely and predictably, even when conditions aren't perfect.

The regenerative braking deserves special mention for how it changes the whole driving experience. Cranked up to maximum, you can drive for miles without touching the brake pedal, just using the accelerator to control your speed. It takes some getting used to, but once you master it, it feels more natural and precise than traditional braking.

Range anxiety becomes irrelevant with the Plaid's 396-mile EPA rating, though real-world range obviously depends on how you drive. Unleash all 1,020 horsepower regularly and you'll definitely impact efficiency, but even spirited driving usually leaves plenty of buffer for longer trips.

Tech Integration

Beyond the raw performance, the Plaid showcases Tesla's software advantages over traditional automakers. That massive touchscreen, controversial as it is, provides access to an impressive range of functions and features. Over-the-air updates keep improving the car over time, meaning your vehicle literally gets better while sitting in your garage.

The mobile app lets you monitor and control various functions remotely, from warming up the cabin to checking charge status to finding the car in crowded parking lots. These might seem like small conveniences, but they represent a fundamental shift in how we interact with our vehicles.

Tesla's Supercharger network provides another major advantage, offering reliable, high-speed charging that makes long-distance electric travel actually practical. While other manufacturers are improving their charging partnerships, Tesla's integrated approach remains superior for most users.

Reality Check on Quality

Tesla's build quality reputation has improved significantly since the early Model S days, but inconsistencies still pop up. Panel gaps, paint quality, and interior trim alignment can vary between cars and production runs. While these issues rarely affect how the car works, they're disappointing in something costing six figures.

The electric drivetrain reliability has proven excellent across hundreds of thousands of Tesla vehicles, with many early Model S examples racking up high miles with minimal problems. Tesla's eight-year, unlimited-mile battery warranty provides reasonable peace of mind about long-term costs.

Service availability remains challenging in some areas because of Tesla's company-owned service model. While mobile service has expanded significantly, major repairs still require service center visits that might involve substantial travel depending on where you live.

Looking Forward

The Model S Plaid represents a unique moment in automotive history. It's quite possibly the last time a single vehicle will dominate its performance category so completely. Traditional luxury brands are rapidly developing their own high-performance EVs, and well-funded startups are bringing fresh ideas to market.

Mercedes' upcoming EQS AMG, BMW's future M electric cars, and Audi's RS e-tron GT variants will provide more traditional luxury alternatives with similar performance. Genesis, Cadillac, and Lincoln are all working on flagship electric sedans that could challenge Tesla's dominance in different ways.

But right now, the Model S Plaid stands alone as the ultimate expression of American electric luxury performance. Its combination of space, comfort, technology, and sheer power remains unmatched by any single competitor.

The Bottom Line: Flawed but Brilliant

There will definitely be future electric cars that are more carefully designed, better tuned, and superior in countless ways. That's just how automotive progress works. But we shouldn't easily forget how impressive, ridiculous, and impossible to ignore the Tesla Model S Plaid is.

This car succeeds despite its flaws, not because it's perfect. The yoke steering remains problematic, some interior materials feel cheap for the price, and various quirks could be eliminated to improve daily life. Yet none of these criticisms touch the fundamental achievement Tesla has pulled off here.

They've built a sedan that redefines American luxury for the electric age while delivering performance that seemed impossible just a few years ago. It's spacious, comfortable, technologically advanced, and stupidly quick in ways that traditional luxury cars simply can't match.

More importantly, they've proven that electric cars can embrace the best parts of American automotive culture—excess, comfort, space, and effortless power—while pointing toward a more sustainable future. The Model S Plaid doesn't just represent new technology; it represents a new take on what American luxury can be.

Whether you love Tesla or hate them, whether you find Elon Musk brilliant or annoying, whether you're excited about electric cars or mourning the death of gas engines, the Model S Plaid demands respect. It's a flawed masterpiece that will probably influence luxury car design for decades.

New American luxury is here, and it's definitely electric. The Model S Plaid proves that this transition doesn't require giving up the fundamental things that made American luxury cars special in the first place. It just requires reimagining how those characteristics can be delivered using modern technology.

In that sense, the Model S Plaid isn't just a great electric car—it's a great American car that happens to be electric. That distinction matters more than you might think, and it points toward a future where sustainable transportation and traditional luxury values aren't mutually exclusive.

The revolution Tesla started over a decade ago with the original Model S reaches its current peak with the Plaid. Where it goes from here depends largely on how quickly the competition catches up and whether Tesla can fix the car's remaining issues while keeping its undeniable strengths. For now, though, the Model S Plaid represents the state of the art in American electric luxury, warts and all.