Dear Seattle-Area Tesla Drivers,
You’ve probably noticed that your stickers aren’t helping. No one cares when you bought your Tesla or how you feel about the company’s CEO. No one is impressed that you’re using electricity instead of gas. That would have made your car special in 2012, but in Seattle in 2025? Not so much.
Those stickers have done little to deter the glares and middle fingers you so richly deserve, and you’re not willing to sell your car because—for some inexplicable reason—Tesla resale values are way down. What could possibly be the reason for all this hatred? What else could you possibly do?
Fortunately, there is something you can do. There is a concrete action you can take that the rest of us would truly, deeply appreciate:
FUCKING PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT YOU’RE FUCKING DOING YOU NARCISSISTIC FUCK
Every day, I see Tesla drivers more focused on their navigation screens than the world around them. Or hypnotized by their goddamn phones. Or just high on the absolute certainty that the world revolves around them. Hey techbros and techmoms! You're operating dangerous heavy machinery! Start fucking acting like it! We are all trying to use the shitty infrastructure we have to the best of our abilities, and you are making everything worse.Â
One of you idiots backed out of a parking space at what seemed like freeway speed, ramming directly into me and my unmoving car. (Each new electric vehicle bigger and more powerful than the last! What could go wrong?) I guess this particular idiot couldn’t be bothered to (a) look in one of their three mirrors, (b) glance at the 55-inch dashboard display showing their backup camera feed, or (c) look over their goddamn shoulder to see if there was anyone behind them.
Want to change the rapidly solidifying stereotype of the Seattle-area Tesla driver? (Half as situationally aware as Priuses and twice as dangerous!) Then please: learn to drive like someone who isn’t a totally clueless, totally self-absorbed asshole.
Yours in exasperation,
Other Fucking People Who Do In Fact Exist
Do you need to get something off your chest? Submit an I, Anonymous and we'll illustrate it! Send your unsigned rant, love letter, confession, or accusation to ianonymous@thestranger.com. Please remember to change the names of the innocent and the guilty.
Â







