Puking on Tesla’s Self Driving Cars

By Jeff Mitchell

Hi, don’t mind me! I’m busy cleaning my self-driving car after another successful chauffeuring service.

By chauffeuring, I mean my car drove random strangers around town without me in it. Yes, it’s a dumb idea, but apparently the world is moving in this direction now. A direction that involves each of us lending our self-controlled vehicles to each other for no discernible reason. A direction in which we all inevitably stop turning wheels and pressing pedals altogether, so that our robo-cars might get us to our destinations faster than we’d have been able to of our own accord.

Tesla, a multi-billion dollar company now world-famous for blowing up rockets and wasting society’s time with inventions so far removed from the immediate needs and desires of reality as to imply they are not of this reality at all, has set its sights on fulfilling a major need no one actually has – the need for a car that drives itself.

Catering to the extremely disabled and marginalized through its groundbreaking technology, Tesla aims to move human bodies by way of automation alone. Too bad the extremely disabled and marginalized members of society such an invention as a self-driving car would appeal to would never be able to afford it anyway. At least they can earn passive income as self-driven car pimps to make their self-driven car payments.

Here’s a fun scenario to play through in your mind:

2017 Tesla Model S P100D. (Photo By, Brian Brantley/Brian Brantley Media, ©2017)

Imagine you’re going 75 MPH down the highway on a warm Summer’s day. Bees and birds frolic before you, then explode upon contact with the sleek, unforgiving exterior of your electric chariot. This is but a daily occurrence, as the motion sensors of your self-driven vehicle lack the capacity to react quickly enough to such small obstacles set in your path.

Calculating the viability of diverting your course slightly to avoid utterly obliterating all before you while at such a speed, your car’s computer-brain arrives at this conclusion in the blink of an eye. You consider this briefly as you observe the splattered remnants of that bird sliding across your windshield.

Up ahead, you behold in terror a fallen tree. You wonder why your car isn’t slowing itself down to a perfectly timed and measured stop. You utter a ‘manual’ override command and tap at the touch screen, but it’s frozen on that blurry picture of Kim Kardashian’s cellulite with a little loading sign spinning aimlessly in front of it.

Your kettle corn pops out of the built-in microwave compartment just as your car vaults over the tree trunk – a chaotic maelstrom of untold horror and irony.

And I stand now over your totaled vehicle – puking at the sight of your mangled remains.

Ladies and gentlemen, the future is now.

I give you the Tesla Model S; complete with full autopilot capabilities, adaptive lighting, “Bio-Weapon Defense Mode” (not a joke), and electric all-wheel drive.

If you don’t have one, you’re lame. If you do have one, you’ll be diagnosed as lame, for life, after your imminent, near-fatal collision with a wall.