I’m just going to say it. I think the Cybertruck looks cool.

Whenever I see one, I feel compelled to point it out and say, “I wish I had one of those.”

I’m met with one of two reactions.

It’s either: “Ew, oh my gosh, they are so ugly. Never.”

Or: “Yeah, me too. They are so cool!”

The Cybertruck incites a level of polarization on par with many great debates — does pineapple belong on pizza? Does Bella belong with Edward? Does the Cybertruck belong on the streets?

After some audience outreach, I found that, overarchingly, people hate the Cybertruck. At least everybody I talked to — so a bunch of 20-something college students.

They all said it was “just … stupid.” No one could give me a detailed reason why — everyone just agreed it looked dumb. A girl I sat next to in class told me that she “couldn’t imagine anyone owning one that wasn’t an a–hole.”

Despite what Gen Z says, upon its release in 2023, the Cybertruck had a waitlist that was almost 2 million people deep. Justin Bieber, Kim Kardashian, Beyoncé, Serena Williams, Bad Bunny are all proud owners of the vehicle.

But since its release, demand has decreased drastically. In 2025, the Cybertruck had the largest sales drop of any electric vehicle on the market.

People can’t decide if the Cybertruck is futuristic or just plain ugly. Will the unique make and model herald in a new era of apocalypse-ready design or fade into the distance as a passing trend, America left craving good ole’ reliable?

To address the Elon-sized elephant in the room, many have since denounced the brand given its creators’ marred reputation.

In 2025, Elon Musk did quite a number on his legacy. In the last few years, his public image has shifted from that of an eccentric billionaire inventor to one of a tyrannical right-wing bankroller.

In 2022, he gave Twitter a $44 billion makeover. Upon purchase, he fired 80% of the original staff and made a commitment to “freedom of speech,” denouncing the “censorship” that characterized the platform.

He has since banned various accounts of journalists, podcasters, political activists and one tracking his private jet usage.

His relationship with Donald Trump began in early 2024, amidst Trump’s presidential campaign. He spent over $200 million on the campaign trail, fully endorsing DJT after the attempted assassination at a Pennsylvania Trump rally.

It was a match made in heaven. Two billionaires, bridging politics and tech, are conquering the world together.

Amidst his foray into politics, Musk was cancelled in January of 2025 for allegedly doing the Nazi salute in Washington, D.C., at an inaugural event. I watched the video, and in my opinion, I believe it. But I would also believe it if he was just being weird and didn’t know what to do with his hands.

But in true Musk fashion, he doubled down in the worst way, leaning into the hate, Kanye style. He made jokes on Twitter — sorry, X — making light of the controversy.

Now, personally, I don’t think we really need to break the taboo of doing the Nazi salute, but men like Musk just don’t like being told what to do. Napoleon syndrome or something.

Musk went on to lead a new government department — DOGE — the Department of Governmental Efficiency. After laying off tens of thousands of federal workers, Musk abruptly left, criticizing Trump over tariffs.

It went down on Twitter (oops, sorry, X), Musk bringing up the Epstein files and alleging that Trump couldn’t have won the election without his money and support. Trump fired back, saying the whole thing happened because he eliminated the tax credit people get when purchasing electric vehicles.

Before this major wave of controversies, the world embraced Musk’s quirks and endearing political incorrectness in exchange for his contributions.

People were buying Teslas. SpaceX was working to colonize Mars. It seemed like Musk was motivated to create by the thought of making the world a better, smarter and more sustainable place.

Understanding the complicated reputation of Musk is key to understanding the respective appeal or repellent of the Tesla Cybertruck.

If you find yourself drawn to the dynamic make and model of the Cybertruck, then you are more likely to embrace innovation despite cultural baggage.

You are comfortable separating the artist from the art. It doesn’t matter if innovation is ribbed with controversy. It’s still innovation.

If the Cybertruck annoys you — if it seems like it’s trying too hard to be different, you’re someone who doesn’t see it as innovation.

You don’t believe every new model, every new iPhone, every new car translates to progress. Maybe it’s just bringing us that much closer to being the hover-chair-bound obese people from “WALL-E.”

The Cybertruck seems gaudy and stupid because it wasn’t created to make the world a better place. It was made to oust everything else on the market. It was made to start a conversation. It’s brazen. Unpractical. Bullet-resistant.

It doesn’t like being told what to do. Oh, you hate me? I’m going to double down.

A large part of the appeal of the Cybertruck was what it could’ve been. It had the potential to be so iconic. It had the potential to begin a new era. That’s why the initial demand was so high. Everyone wanted one because of what it represented — the future.

But when Musk shifted from cars and space exploration to Twitter feuds and Oval Office photo-ops, the rose colored glasses were removed. The motivations have changed— from creating a better, smarter and more sustainable world to chasing political power and world domination.

The Cybertruck tanked. It went from a beacon of status and revolution to an eyesore.

Yeah, I still think they look cool. But in a “Back to the Future,” sci-fi, nostalgia kind of way. Would I be upset if I never saw one again? No.

I get why people hate the Cybertruck. It was just a spectacle, a fad, a trend. Like Hydro Flask or Dogecoin.

Claire Thatcher is a freshman at UT this year studying journalism and media. She can be reached at [email protected].

Columns and letters of The Daily Beacon are the views of the individual and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Beacon or the Beacon’s editorial staff.