I spent an hour riding inside Tesla’s steering-wheel-free Cybercab

Getting out of a taxi shouldn’t be a shameful experience. Yet I find myself feeling particularly embarrassed while exiting a Tesla Cybercab as it partially blocks a narrow road outside a popular Austin swimming hole. As a cadre of annoyed, sweaty Texan parking spot hunters pile up around it, the gold-painted two-seater just sits there obliviously, lights flashing. I try not to make eye contact, but I can feel the stares of frustrated pool-goers around me, whose earnest attempt at a peaceful outdoor reprieve from the heat had just been interrupted by yet another not-quite-finished glimpse into the future.

Tesla’s long-awaited, two-seater Cybercab is officially offering paid rides in Austin, Texas, and the experience, so far, somehow feels equal parts nerve-wracking and reassuringly boring — often at the same time. The Verge spent the better part of an hour in the gilded hype-mobile last weekend, gallivanting around a roughly 288-square-mile geofenced area of the Texas capital.

At its best, the service offers one of the clearest glimpses yet of a near future where autonomous vehicles feel less like a retrofitted version of the cars we know now and more like purpose-built autonomous lounges, free of steering wheels or pedals. But long wait times, reported issues with the butterfly doors, and traffic-jam-inducing drop-off locations muddy the picture.

And while nothing went seriously wrong during my rides, the self-driving software also didn’t feel as confident as you would like in a car with no manual controls. It felt more like a slightly stoned teenager, nervously braking, indecisively bobbing between lanes, and seemingly second-guessing some of its decisions. There’s also an unavoidable Elon Musk–shaped cloud hanging over every ride, attracting angry eyeballs and carrying all the political baggage that comes with anything he touches.

Cybercabs aren’t hard to miss, with their ostentatious gold color, Blade Runner–esque aesthetic, and dinner plate–like wheel coverings. I first saw them testing around Austin earlier this year with a human safety driver and retrofitted with steering wheel and pedals. As of today, the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles says 45 Cybercabs are registered in the state. Tesla has a lot riding on its newest vehicle. For years, Musk has hyped the imminent arrival of fully autonomous vehicles, arguing that “going balls to the wall for autonomy” was an obvious move for Tesla. The company launched its Robotaxi service last year with a fleet of self-driving Model Ys, to mixed results. But Cybercab presents a potentially much bigger bet. An entire fleet of purpose-built vehicles designed specifically to offer unsupervised driving as a service.

I requested my first Cybercab ride from Tesla’s Robotaxi app around 6PM on Friday evening. It’s a good thing I didn’t have anywhere to be. The app listed an hour-plus wait time for a $15 ride under two miles, though the actual wait was about 45 minutes. (The next two wait times were about 40 and 25 minutes, respectively). The car pulled up across the street from my house, flashing under its front bumper to signal it was picking up a passenger.

As someone with a less-than-stellar history with Model Y doors, I was glad the Cybercab instead let users open the butterfly-style doors by tapping a button on the mobile app. A handful of passengers have reported those same doors opening up so quickly that they end up striking them, though I never experienced that issue.

The interior, a single row of two chairs separated by a cup holder, feels spacious for public transit but cramped for a private car. That’s helped somewhat by the extra legroom where a steering wheel and pedals would be. It has a sparse, minimalist gray fabric interior, save for a massive center touchscreen. That screen serves as a command center, showing a real time-3D rendering of the trip, including surrounding cars and pedestrians. It’s also how you start the ride. Once rolling, the screen doubles as an entertainment hub. I linked my Spotify, Netflix, and YouTube accounts, and tested the built-in Arcade app with an external PlayStation controller. Yes, you can game your way through a busy intersection if you really want to be that guy.

The first ride took about 15 minutes. Almost immediately, the windshield wipers switched on, despite it being a sunny, 95-degree day. That wasn’t the only oddity. About halfway through the trip, the Cybercab crossed an underpass leading into downtown, a route I take almost every day. Instead of staying in the lane to go straight, it switched into one that would’ve forced a left turn onto the highway. It corrected itself, but not before a handful of cars passed by. Again, the wipers wiped.

When it’s not second-guessing itself, the Cybercab’s moment-to-moment ride feels welcomely smooth. The vehicle itself is both zippy and comfortable. For a quick comparison, I requested a Waymo home and felt that, purely from a comfort standpoint, the Cybercab had a noticeable leg up. Legroom, ride quality, the app’s simplicity and usability, and in-cabin entertainment options all felt like a move in the right direction. In terms of price, fares were around the same as a typical base Uber, between $15–$21 over three trips.

Riding in the Cybercab draws a great deal of attention, some endearing, some less so. Pedestrians downtown (especially kids) stopped and pointed, sometimes doing a double take at the sight of me in the driver’s seat with no wheel in front of me. One driver in the lane next to me, eyes wide, signaled for me to lower my window. When I did, he gestured with his arms and asked, “No steering wheel?” I said no pedals either, to which he responded with an emphatic, “Damn, bro!”

There also aren’t any mirrors, which makes the already confined, teardrop-shaped shell feel all the more closed off, especially when sitting on the driver’s side. As someone used to unconsciously checking mirrors while driving, having them removed feels like having your peripheral vision suddenly cut off. It’s unnerving, especially with cars passing by.

What’s more concerning is the Cybercab’s at times bizarre choice of drop-off spots. Several riders posted videos over the weekend of the cab stopping in the middle of busy roads, in some cases without even pulling to the curb. As mentioned above, I experienced a brief example of that after being dropped off at Austin’s popular Barton Springs. These aren’t the massive lane-closing errors that have occurred with other AVs, but they are awkward and common enough to stand out. They also won’t help win over other drivers, a majority of whom still feel uncomfortable around driverless cars.

In true Tesla fashion, the Cybercab is already courting controversy. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration opened an Audit Query almost immediately after paid rides began, examining how Tesla self-certified that the car without a steering wheel or pedals complies with Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards. Competitors like Zoox, whose vehicles also lack those conventional controls, faced a similar audit years ago before ultimately pursuing and receiving a formal exemption. Tesla pressed forward with its Cybercab rollout without seeking that exemption.

NHTSA said it doesn’t comment on active investigations when asked for comment by The Verge. Tesla did not respond to a request for comment.

The next few weeks and months in Austin could determine how fast Tesla can expand its Cybercab vision. Musk says he intends to grow operations nationwide, and vehicles have already been spotted in Orlando and parked outside Miami International Airport. But any Cybercab crash or other high-profile mistake made in its politically friendly home state risks drawing even more regulatory scrutiny and setting back expansion timelines. And with competitors like Zoox also rolling out purpose-built AVs, delays are something Tesla really can’t afford.

Images by Mack DeGuerin / The Verge