The Tesla Cybertruck Is A Sales Disaster

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The Tesla Cybertruck is a marketing disaster unlike any in the automotive business since the days of the ill-fated Edsel. Before we get into deconstructing the extent of the disaster, consider this: The Cybertruck is the result of Elon Musk’s immense and insatiable ego. One of his numerous children thought the design was way cool, and so Elon, who basically has a mental age of around 8¾, decided the company he controls with an iron fist — as if it was privately owned even though it is publicly traded — would build it.

Initially, many fans expected the Cybertruck could sell about 500,000 copies a year (with more than one million reservations in place before the first Cybertruck was delivered). Tesla refuses to release sales data because Elon hates the media. You might think a publicly traded company would want to keep its investors informed, but Tesla is doing just the opposite. The closest the public gets to actual information is by paying attention to the recall notices from NHTSA, because they list how many vehicles are involved in each recall campaign. The latest one issued about three weeks ago involved a piece of stainless steel trim that is glued on at the factory.

Unfortunately, the glue seems similar to the stuff they use to make sticky notes, and so those trim pieces have a tendency to fall off. NHTSA said about 46,000 vehicles were subject to the recall, so that tells us indirectly approximately 46,000 Cybertrucks have been sold. Regular readers know I am math challenged — an embarrassing failing on my part that does not seem to be getting any better with age — but even I know that 46,000 is a whole lot less than 500,000. Since the Cybertruck has been in production for over a year now, that suggests all the deep pocketed early adopters who would pay any price and bear any burden to own one have now done so. The rest of the world, however, is showing little interest in the vehicle, which has all the design appeal of a stainless steel four-wheeled snowmobile trailer.

Elon’s kid may think it is oh, so neat, but perhaps the opinion of a child is not the best way to make business plans involving millions and millions of dollars to build factories, set up assembly lines, and create a supply chain. From a marketing point of view, the Cybertruck has been a total failure. From a profitability point of view, it has been a disaster. The proof in the pudding is coming into focus this week as multiple media sources are reporting that Tesla is refusing to accept the accursed vehicles as trade-ins for other Tesla products.

Can you imagine if Mercedes-Benz said “Gosh, Mister Customer. We appreciate that you dropped a ton of dough on your G-Class, but we won’t give you ten cents for it as a trade-in on any other Mercedes product.” That would not play well in Peoria, would it? Electrek claims the company is telling some Cybertruck owners to pursue whatever remedies they may have under state Lemon Law statutes. Well, gee, Mr. Musk, that sure is wonderful news. But it will make many people not want to do business with you again in the future. Hell of a marketing campaign, Elon. This is the same fool who is taking a 6-foot chainsaw to the federal government. What could possibly go wrong? To make matters worse, Jalopnik says Tesla is sitting on 2,400 Cybertrucks it can’t find buyers for, even though it is offering ridiculous sales incentives.

Elon’s decision to cozy up to the Moron of Mar-A-Loco and be the head of an organization that has systematically disassembled multiple public institutions that millions of American citizens love and rely on for employment and for services has negatively impacted the public image of his company. Now Tesla owners are trying to get rid of their Teslas in order to distance themselves from Musk’s toxic politics, which have led many people around the globe to boycott the brand.

Yahoo! Finance says it’s about time everyone, Tesla included, admitted the Cybertruck has been a total flop. “The whole concept was wrong from the start because it was based on Musk’s personal preference for something quirky that he once saw in a sci-fi movie rather than research into what people wanted.” The design was flawed and misjudged, from materials that cost a fortune to replace to confusing brake lights, and an inability to handle snow. Its most stunning failure was the decision not to consider safety regulations, which resulted in a vehicle that is not legal to drive on public roads in the UK and much of Europe because of its enormous weight and sharp edges.

“The dark turn in Musk’s personal branding appears to have merely signed the Cybertruck’s death warrant,” Yahoo said. One of regular readers who goes by the screen name Trackdaze commented recently, “It seems the Cybertruck was a Delorean flavoured stainless steel kiss of death.” What a perfect summary for the looming disaster that Elon’s fantasy has become. He once said he didn’t care whether the truck was a sales success, and perhaps that is true. Elon cares not one whit what anyone else thinks, but Tesla shareholders may see things differently.

Trusting one’s personal assets to a drug addict who spends much of the day on his private antisocial media channel instead of attending to business is a dangerous game, fueled primarily by the somewhat puerile hope that somehow Elon will pull a rabbit out of the hat and send the stock soaring to $1000 a share or more. It’s pretty much like those who buy lottery tickets religiously, hoping against hope that lightning will strike and bring an end to all their financial woes.

It could happen, but the parallels to the fairytale about the boy who cried wolf are getting harder to ignore as the Semi, the Roadster 2.0, the robotaxi, the promise of new models that are more affordable, the hype about the Solar Roof, a lack of progress from The Boring Company, and a host of other promises remain floating somewhere in the middle distance. PT Barnum once observed, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” and that thought seems to be at the core of Musk’s business philosophy. Certainly, that is the only possible explanation for why the Cybertruck exists at all. “Pride rides before a fall,” my old Irish grandmother liked to say. It’s a monumental shame that the Tesla board of directors refuses to lift a finger to restrain Musk’s more grandiose delusions. When the end comes, they will individually and collectively be as responsible as Musk himself, if not more so.