Electric Epoch
On a hot summer Sunday in June, I experienced a paradigmatic moment in my life. Like my first time getting on the internet, it was a tangible event clearly divided by the before and after events. And for me, once that point of no return was passed, there's no going back.
I've been very vocal about my resistance to electric cars, but I've wanted to rent one for several years just to see what the fuss was about. Back in 2017, I thought it would be fun to rent a Tesla in New Orleans and drive to the Florida Keys solely using Tesla's network of charging stations. Unfortunately, even five years later, it's still prohibitive from both a financial and charging standpoint. After driving the 900 hp Hellcat in 2020, I felt the perfect followup would be a test drive of a 1,020 hp Tesla Plaid, it's electric antithesis. I came pretty close to renting one in Orlando earlier this year until a last minute change in plans literally pulled the plug on it.
But a month later, longtime-reader Randy Saunders notified me that he had ordered a Tesla that would be arriving shortly. Over the past thirty years I've known him, he's owned an enviable variety of different performance cars, several of which I've covered in these articles. So when he put his unreliable Jeep up for sale, I was sure he would be getting a new Mustang Mach 1. Instead, he surprised me with the Tesla, which I felt is akin to going from a carnivore to vegetarian diet.
However, it turns out there was a method to his madness that I would soon discover.
It all started with the Cars and Coffee Biloxi chapter moving their June meeting to Gulfport Dragway. This was ostensibly because the previous events had gotten more and more dangerous due to reckless drivers attempting to show-off with burnouts and other illegal activities. I'm not saying that smoking the tires doesn't have a rightful place at car shows, it's just that it's not safe near large crowds of unprotected people.
I'm typically opposed to rising early on Sunday mornings, and due to that, this was the first Cars and Coffee I had attended in almost three years. So, the night before I offhandedly invited my daughter to go with me, I fully expected her to decline. But to my surprise she enthusiastically agreed and then I was left wondering if I'd made a big mistake? Would she quickly tire of the racing and be bored? Would she be miserable standing for so long in the sweltering heat? And, in a society reeling from a pandemic, an overturned Roe vs. Wade decision and the highest inflation in forty years, does the world really need a live-action Barbie movie?
After all, the last time I took Victoria to a drag strip was for the "PINKS ALL OUT" races in 2008 when she was just three. In fact, she even wanted to wear her "PINKS" beanie from that event until she discovered it would be over 100 degrees, but I applauded her enthusiasm nonetheless.
Despite my initial concerns, she was up early on Sunday morning and we left at 8am to be in Gulfport by 9am when the event started. Having a freshly minted driver's license, I offered to let her pilot the Fusion and she accepted. I warned her that while it was not nearly as nice as her new 2022 Forte, it did possess over 100 more horsepower so she might enjoy stretching its legs a bit. Unlike her mother, I don't discourage her from driving fast and I actually think it's good to safely experience the capabilities of a car when conditions permit.
Traffic was light, and with miles of visibility in front of us I allowed her to go as fast as she felt comfortable. Briefly nudging ninety a couple times, we made it to the drag strip about 20 minutes early. And in retrospect, we probably should have arrived even sooner as traffic was backed up halfway down the entrance road. Unbelievably, the car in front of us was also a Fusion like mine even down to the same red metallic paint. However, it was the four-cylinder model and had clearly been neglected. Advertising the owner's intellect (or lack thereof) was a classy bumper sticker that read "Gas, Grass or Ass, Nobody Rides Free." Given that optimistic outlook, the driver should be careful not to pick up any "hitchhikers" that can't be dismissed with even the strongest does of antibiotics. And finally, who still refers to marijuana as "grass" anyway?!? That sobriquet hasn't been relevant since bell bottoms and CB radios were popular.
After signing waivers to not hold Gulfport Dragway responsible if we were horribly maimed or killed, we paid our $20 and were let into our own adult amusement park where we thankfully weren't harassed by employees in creepy mouse costumes or brainwashed with woke agendas.
I found an empty row and parked only to see it quickly fill up with the most expensive cars of the whole event. It was certainly the best company my car has ever been in, but next to the low-slung Lamborghini my otherwise sporty Fusion looked as tall and cumbersome as a 4x4 Bronco. However, with the Aventador's scissor doors, I certainly didn't have to worry about any door dings!
The humidity and ambient temperature were both hovering around 90 so we made a beeline to the concession stand to pick up some bottled water. Just as we did, I saw a dark blue Tesla streak down the track. I thought it might have been Randy, but that Tesla looked like a darker blue than the single cellphone picture I'd seen of his.
But on the off chance it was him, we walked to the side of the return road and waited for the Tesla to pass by.
System Shock
As it approached us, the Tesla abruptly stopped and the window rolled down. Sure enough, it was Randy and he simply said, "Get In!" I reached for the door handle only to awkwardly discover that there wasn't one there. Instead, there was just a thin strip of black metal that was flush with the door panel. Even more embarrassing, my 16 year-old daughter apparently knew more about the Tesla than I did: she had already opened her rear door and subsequently showed me how to open mine. Despite my chagrin, I later discovered that Googling "How to open Tesla door" will produce roughly 75 million results, with the official instructions being something like "To open the door, simply press the wider part of the non-mechanical door handle with your thumb. Use the rest of your hand to grab the thin part of the handle as it pivots open and pull or simply pull open the door from its edge."
As I slid into the painfully-clean white leather seat, my immediate concern was inquiring if our water bottles were acceptable? After all, I'm particular about drinks and food in my car so I feel its only right to extend the same courtesy and respect to others, particularly those who are charitable enough to offer my daughter and me a $60,000 joyride. Randy nonchalantly waved it off and I was next struck by the intense minimalism of the interior. A massive 15" touchscreen dominated the cabin but aside from that there was only a sculpted dash that makes the Model 3 looks as futuristic as a UFO.
Literally everything seems to be controlled by the Macbook-sized display, even down to the fan controls for the air-conditioning, which Randy had set to high. As I stated earlier, the Tesla rewrites a lot of what I grew up knowing about cars, because those rules no longer apply. For instance, whether racing on the street or at the track, the air-conditioning was always turned off for better performance even if it was 100 degrees. But with an electric car, that's not an issue as it has no moving parts like an A/C compressor to cause parasitic drag. Similarly, there's no messy fluids to deal with such as gasoline or dirty motor oil to dispose of.
We pulled through the pits as Randy explained that with Cars and Coffee's relaxed rules, we could join him down the quarter-mile without even so much as a helmet. That's when I noticed that we had randomly been paired with a small, white BMW that looked to be an M-Class 2 Series. I'm admittedly not a BMW aficionado, but Randy surmised that it was probably packing around 400hp and would be a formidable opponent.
Victoria was giddy with excitement in the back seat as this was not only her first time in a fully-electric car, but also her first drag race. I instructed her to film the race as I was confident we would pull away from the BMW once underway.
Sadly, there was no scantily-clad young girl at the starting line performing the arm-drop as is so often glamorized in movies like The Fast & The Furious. Instead, we got some crusty old man who looked like he may have just wandered in from a nearby homeless camp. That notwithstanding, he did an acceptable job of making sure we were both lined-up and ready before waving us off.
I asked Randy if there was any special procedure the Model 3 required for an optimum launch, such as brake-loading the powertrain, but he said there wasn't. Apparently, all that's needed is simply stomping the gas pedal, er, I mean electric pedal to the floor as fast as possible once the race starts.
Now, I wasn't sure what the BMW had in its arsenal, but I was fairly certain that our Tesla would win given the nearly insurmountable combination of its electric motor and all-wheel-drive (AWD). For instance, petrol engines like the one in the BMW don't make maximum power right off the line, nor can all that energy be effectively channeled to just the rear wheels. In short, it doesn't matter if we were racing a car with 1000hp if it couldn't put it to the pavement.
Silent Violence
However, I have to give props to the Bimmer driver as he had a quick reaction time and got a pretty good launch. Unfortunately for him, we were already a car-length ahead by the 60-foot mark and that grew to around 5 car-lengths by the eighth-mile. Randy had described the Tesla's 4.0-second 0-60 as "brutal" and he wasn't exaggerating— the neck-snapping catapult and continuous surge of power were a little disorienting at first. It was also eerily quiet as we shot down the track, with only a low, mechanical hum and the growing sound of rapidly displaced air. Thanks to the huge screen, I could see the vehicle speed swiftly rising, hitting 119 mph before Randy let off. Car and Driver measured a 12.3 @ 115 mph quarter-mile from their Long Range Model 3 and that seemed to fall right in line with what I experienced.
But on to the subject of the Mustang Mach 1 that I mentioned earlier. Next to Ford's muscular pony car, the Tesla appears downright anemic. Indeed, I've never gone so fast in a car that looks so slow. In fact, judged solely on outward appearance, I bet not a single person would pick the Tesla over the Mustang.
But is there really that big of a difference between them?
Price-wise, the Tesla Model 3 Long Range rings in at an as-tested price of $57,960 to the Mustang's $63,745.
And while they admittedly employ vastly different methods of operation, their performance is remarkably similar with the Tesla having the edge despite less horsepower (-30hp) and more weight (+200lbs.). Thanks to AWD and the instantaneous power delivery, the Model 3 rockets to 60 mph in 4 seconds flat, 3 tenths faster than the Mach 1. The gaps grows by another tenth all the way until 130 mph which the Tesla covers in 16.7 seconds to the Mustang's 17.1 seconds.
In more pedestrian maneuvers, Randy claims he's logged 1,500 miles on his Model 3 at an estimated cost of just $30 in electricity. In comparison, it would cost nearly $350 in 93 octane to replicate the same distance in the Mach 1. Furthermore, after the short drive to the drag strip and six wide-open passes down the track, he pointed out his battery was still 80% charged.
In the end, the Tesla might not stir the emotions nor convey the visceral appeal like the Mach 1, but with a cheaper price, not having to buy pricey high-octane and a quieter, more comfortable ride, the Model 3 is the educated man's muscle car.
Tires and Traction
In the ensuing nearly twenty years since I was last at Gulfport Dragway, there have been some welcome additions, such as a new burnout box located adjacent to the Starting line. I wasn't familiar with this area but was pleased to witness a stripped-down Corvette LT1 bravely enter and begin the longest continuous burnout I've ever seen.
After a tortuous four or five minutes, the Corvette exited but more smoke was now emanating from the radiator than the tires. It appeared that the punishing activity had caused the engine to overheat and was spewing radiator fluid everywhere.
Fortunately, the poor Corvette was far from a museum piece so I doubt the owner was concerned about any potential damage.
Next up for our amusement was a new Toyota Supra, albeit in 1/10th scale, that was also quite adept at being flung around the burnout box. The tiny RC car zipped around, doing complete 360-degree turns and providing quite the comic relief.
Back on the track, a new Acura NSX was the only real exotic car brave enough to drag-race. I posted a thread on the Ferrari forum encouraging nearby owners to show what their prancing horse could do on the strip, but none had the balls to even show up, much less race it. That was disappointing because there are usually several Ferraris at every Cars and Coffee, but this time there were zero, underscoring the fact that the majority of owners are rich elitists who simply buy them for ego-inflating purposes.
Clocking in at $200K, the NSX with questionable aquamarine wheels was dominating the field with it's AWD and 600 Hybrid-Electric horses which enabled a 2.9-second 0-60 sprint. A C7 Z06 stepped up to challenge it, and with more horsepower and less weight, seemed like it might end the Acura's reign. But like other opponents, the Corvette struggled to transfer all that power to the rear wheels and the NSX got the holeshot and pulled away.
The drag strip has always been a "Run-What-Ya-Brung" environment and that makes for some interesting and unpredictable match-ups. Case in point: What looked to be an Audi RS Q8 SUV replete with a loaded luggage rack proved to be the most bonkers racer of the day. It was haphazardly paired with a sleek, F-Type 400 in what the Jaguar driver must have thought would be a slam-dunk in his favor. But as the saying goes, you can't judge a book (or car, in this case) by its cover and despite it's preposterous appearance, the portly Audi jumped off the line much to the chagrin of the Jag owner. With 600hp, the Q8 has the same twin-turbo V8 as the Lamborghini Urus so it was Germany vs. Great Britain all over again. Towards the end of the race, it looked like the Audi's battleship aerodynamics and weight began to take a toll, allowing the leaping cat to just slip by but it was a real nail-biter.
However, the most unintentional excitement came from a race between a new Toyota Supra and a Dodge 392 Challenger. Reports are that the hot-rodded Supra was pushing close to 600hp and right off the line both cars were side-by-side. Yet without any warning, the Supra was apparently struck by power-on oversteer and suddenly smashed into the left guardrail. It then bounced off it and slid across the track into the right guardrail where it came to a crumpled stop.
The impact was such that the track was immediately closed while the Supra was inspected and removed. Randy mused that with no on-site ambulance or wrecker, and a lengthy track clean-up, it would likely be the last race of the day. This was depressing news and I couldn't help but felt somewhat responsible. After all, I had jokingly admitted that I hoped to see some rich idiot blow their exotic car up but I hadn't anticipated that such an event would shut the track down.
So, with Randy's prognostication we decided to leave and others seemed to do the same thing, as there was suddenly an unspoken mass exodus. Victoria wanted to eat lunch at The Sugar Factory so we headed there in the coolest traffic jam ever.
Unfortunately, once on the interstate we soon discovered that our exit was blocked by not one, but two burning 18-wheeler trucks. According to the accident report, the flames were difficult to extinguish given the large amount of fuel onboard both vehicles. Thankfully, Waze re-routed us around the wreck and through Woolmarket so we didn't lose much time. However, we came out right across from the Gulf Coast Veterinary Emergency Hospital which Victoria thoughtfully reminded me is where we took her sick cat when it was near death in 2018. He lived, but I now refer to the place as the Ritz-Carlton because a three-day stay set me back $1,500 and the damn cat was so pampered he didn't want to leave!
Once at the Hard Rock Hotel, we discovered that there was a 30-minute wait for seating due to the unprecedented glut of post-Covid tourists. And contributing to the delay was a family of ten from Baton Rouge ahead of us which I never understood. Personally, I can't imagine anyone from Louisiana traveling to Biloxi for a vacation when Texas, Georgia or Florida have so much more to offer.
Our waitress was nice enough, even though she had blue hair and looked like she belonged in a Japanese Anime movie. But, I was taken aback when she informed me they had no sweet tea. She then elaborated and explained that they were actually completely out of sugar. Suddenly, it felt like a surreal setup for some game show we were unknowingly on. And then Victoria clarified, "So, it's called The Sugar Factory but you're out of sugar!?!" It sounded too bizarre to be real, but in fact was true, and is the only time in my life I've ever heard of such a peculiar shortage, particularly since it's the name of the establishment. It's like Taco Bell being out of tacos!
Nevertheless, Victoria and I both decided on the Waffle Breakfast Burger, a towering salute to cholesterol and American excess that strikes fear into the heart of even the most hardened cardiologist. It starts life as a half-pound burger but gets corrupted with two waffles for the buns, applewood bacon, smoked sausage, a fried egg, hash browns, country gravy, maple syrup and—last but certainly not least—butter! I also admire their dedication to making it as unhealthy as possible with three types of meat but not a single redeeming green vegetable. Of course, it was delicious and I completely devoured mine, but it was so messy Victoria had to use a knife and fork on hers.
But as enjoyable as the burger was, the best part of the meal came when it was time to pay. Because of the nearly hour wait for our food, the manager apparently took pity on us and comped our whole check. I joked with Victoria that had I known it was free, I would have ordered an appetizer and a dessert, too! Despite that, I still tipped our waitress $20 so she wouldn't run out of blue hair dye and I left the casino satisfied that I actually came out slightly ahead for once!
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