The first impression

Eventually, von Holzhausen bids us a pleasant trip, and we get down to the nitty gritty of strategizing a cross-country stint in a vehicle that can’t take gasoline. Our plan was to meander up the Pacific coast from LA to San Francisco, stopping to recharge both the car and our bodies in Morro Bay, a sleepy village on the ocean known for its giant rock. Morro Bay lacks one of Tesla’s ultra-fast Superchargers, but it does have a so-called Level 2 charger; it takes a lot longer to top off the battery with a Level 2, but if we let it sit there overnight, we figured it should be good by morning. For comparison’s sake, you couldn’t make the trip from LA to the Bay Area on a single tank of gas in most cars, but finding a gas station is very rarely a problem. There are a number of apps like PlugShare that help EV owners track down available chargers, but the Model S itself doesn’t yet include a built-in charger directory.

With that, we set out onto Interstate 405 to meet up with US Route 101, which we’ll end up taking most of the way from Southern to Northern California. Though Tesla had given me a comprehensive walkthrough of the car in preparation for the journey, this is the first time that I’m actually behind the wheel and in motion. It’s a trip, both literally and figuratively.

Mashing the pedal of the Model S is a sensation that takes some getting used to

Once you’re rolling, the Model S quickly seduces you. It’s the accelerator: it responds instantaneously, smoothly, and effortlessly, as if you have nearly limitless power at your disposal. Someday, humans will all drive electric vehicles and this bizarre, science-fiction sensation will be completely normal. For those of us who’ve driven cars powered by controlled explosions of fossil fuel their whole lives, though, mashing the pedal of the Model S is an eye-opening sensation that takes some getting used to. Before long, I was rocketing down El Camino Real with no real sense of speed, only astonishment that electric motors and a battery pack alone could propel this 4,600-pound vehicle at a rate that made everyone around me look like chumps.

To be clear, the kind of white-knuckle acceleration offered by this vehicle doesn’t come cheap. Though a base Model S can be had for as little as $52,400 after a $7,500 federal tax credit — still more money than most of us have ever paid for a car — the Performance model starts at a sobering $87,400. Fully equipped, the price can climb just north of $100,000. At that point, you’re dancing with supercar territory.

As the curb weight suggests, this is not a small car. At 196 inches long, the Model S is only 3.8 inches shorter than BMW’s stately 7 Series (in standard wheelbase trim). It’s deeply handsome from every angle but doesn’t stand out in a crowd; if you squint your eyes, it could look like anything from a $25,000 Toyota Camry to a $200,000 Aston Martin Rapide. Even Tesla’s relatively muted color choices for the car — there are no fluorescent yellows or oranges available like on the old Roadster — tell the story that it wanted to make something that regular people would feel okay buying. "I felt it was really important to make sure that the first product, or the first few products, were desirable right out of the gate. Not quirky, not unique, not strange," von Holzhausen told me.

And yet the Model S doesn’t actually blend in at all. What struck me throughout our entire trip was how many random passers-by — how bloody many — would stop us to ask about the car. What is it? Is it Italian? Is it for sale yet? Can my son sit in it? It’s electric? Some would drive by on the highway, grinning ear to ear with a thumbs-up and an approving honk.