When I first saw the Slate truck at a public event in Newport, Rhode Island, last summer, I understood the excitement. It’s small, quirky, and refreshingly different. In a world where pickups keep getting bigger and more expensive, this tiny electric truck feels like somebody finally remembered that not everyone needs a rolling luxury suite.
I like it. I really do. The Slate starts at just $24,950 and is being hailed as a gamechanger, but that’s the media machine. Not real people. That’s why I’m so puzzled by the way people are talking. Everyone seems ready to celebrate, and I can’t help thinking we’ve seen this movie before. It usually doesn’t end well.
Maybe It’s Just Furby Flashbacks
All the excitement around Slate gives me Furby flashbacks. Everybody had to have one. Stores sold out, people paid ridiculous prices, and it felt like the hottest thing on the planet. Then the next craze came along and everybody moved on. Excitement and permanence aren’t always the same thing.
I’m not saying the Slate truck is destined to end up forgotten in a closet next to Beanie Babies and Tamagotchis. I hope the opposite happens, but I think the hype around this thing could use just a dash of reality.
Building A Cool Truck Is The Easy Part
The truck itself isn’t the issue. I think it’s cool and plenty of people agree. At that Newport event, people drove from all over just to get a look at it. The excitement was real, and plenty of them were already talking about putting one in their driveways.
The challenge isn’t building something people want to look at or talk about. It’s turning that enthusiasm into a business that survives. We’ve spent years watching startups arrive with exciting ideas only to discover that making cars is brutally difficult. Building prototypes is one thing. Building thousands of reliable vehicles while keeping suppliers happy and somehow making money is something else entirely.
Billionaire Money Doesn’t Guarantee Success
Everyone points to Jeff Bezos and Amazon backing Slate as though it’s a done deal. Having deep pockets certainly helps, but we’ve seen wealthy backers before. Amazon invested heavily in Rivian, and Rivian is still trying to become sustainably profitable. Lucid has access to enormous resources, and it’s still losing billions.
Money buys time for a company to figure things out, but it doesn’t magically guarantee success. Building cars is hard, no matter how many commas are in your bank account.
The Problem With Giving People What They Ask For
What makes Slate fascinating is that it’s trying to solve a problem people complain about all the time. Cars and trucks are absurdly expensive, and everyone is tired of six-figure trucks and SUVs loaded with gadgets they don’t need.
The thing is, simplicity comes with tradeoffs. The Slate is a very small, two-door, electric truck with a stripped-down interior. It has hand-crank windows, which are charming to some people and a deal-breaker to others. I appreciate the simplicity, but humans are funny creatures. We complain about giant touchscreens and endless features, then turn right around and buy SUVs with heated cupholders and 85-way adjustable seats.
I Keep Coming Back To The Maverick
Here’s the thing. Ford already sells the Maverick, which has four doors, room for friends, excellent fuel economy, and a dealer network that isn’t dependent on a startup surviving another round of funding. You can buy one right this minute. It costs more, but it’s also a much safer bet.
More importantly, you know Ford will still be there if something goes wrong. That’s not me rooting against Slate. I genuinely want this little truck to succeed because I miss small trucks and I love seeing companies try something different. I just don’t know why people would gamble on a startup when there’s already a practical alternative sitting at the Ford dealership.
I Hope I’m Wrong
I’d love to look foolish five years from now because Slate became the next great success story. The industry could use more affordable vehicles, and buyers could use more choices.
Until then, I can’t shake those Furby memories. Everybody loved Furby, too, and that didn’t automatically mean it was built to last. Maybe Slate will prove me wrong, and I’d be thrilled if it does. I just think we should wait until there are a few sitting in driveways before we start planning the parade route and tossing confetti.
