From the June 2016 issue
We half expect Doc, Marty, and Elon to step out as the Falcon Wing doors of the Tesla Model X begin to swing open, activated as they are with two successive pushes on the side of the key fob. The rear doors release with an audible click, and then the electric motors whir as the doors begin their slow skyward ascent. It’s the Model X’s big trick, and a dubious tie to the hubris of DeLorean, Bricklin, and Icarus.
These aren’t mere gullwing doors, though; they’re far more complex. Power actuated and lined with capacitive, inductive, and sonar sensors behind the aluminum skin to keep them from delivering an uppercut to your head or garage ceiling, the doors are hinged above the glass to automatically fold away from parked cars and obstacles. They’re probably the smartest doors ever fitted to a car. But do you want complicated doors? Mostly you just want doors to open easily, quickly, and provide a large-enough portal to let you into the cabin. Fully open, the Falcon Wing door provides a large entry, but it’s still easy to smack your head on the tip of the wing.
There’s a wait, too. The Falcon Wing doors take five and a half seconds to open—six to close—and occasionally the sensors halt their progress, even when there’s nothing in the way. For as smart as these doors are, it turns out that even semisentient doors with echolocation are pretty dumb. And yet, the dumbest part of the Model X is the first thing you will show off.
The rest of the Model X isn’t dumb—far from it. Tesla’s third act, after the Roadster and the Model S, the Model X is a fully electric three-row SUV. Built alongside the Model S in Fremont, California, the X shares much with that hatchback, including significant parts of the chassis and the aluminum structure, plus the electric motors and the battery pack. Tesla’s SUV might look like the unwanted offspring of a Model S and a BMW 5-series GT, but at least the shape doesn’t offend the wind. The claimed drag coefficient is a very low 0.24.
Bottom right: This man has always dreamed of driving a soap bubble. The Model X’s enormous windshield is as close as he’s going to get.
We tested an X P90D, which means it gets Tesla’s largest battery, a 90-kWh lithium-ion pack that provides a claimed range of 250 miles. In our short time with the Model X, its onboard computer reported that we used 107 kWh over 246 miles; that’s the energy equivalent of 77 MPGe.
Like the Model S, the X won’t embarrass itself if it lines up next to a supercar on a drag strip. An electric motor at each axle provides four-wheel drive. Add up the motors’ maximum potential and you get a theoretical 762 horsepower, but the arithmetic isn’t that simple. Power sent to the wheels is limited by the battery’s ability to transmit current, so the real combined output is 463 horsepower for the P90D.
Spending $10,000 for the Ludicrous Speed option adds software changes and what Tesla calls a “smart” fuse. That special fuse increases the battery’s output to 1500 amps (up from 1300), and the available output rises to 532 horsepower. With or without Ludicrous Speed, the full 713 pound-feet of torque is available with every punch of the accelerator below 50 mph. That neck-straining torque certainly gives the sensation of 700 horsepower. Or of falling off a tall building.
All Tesla Performance models—denoted by the P in front of the 90—have launch control that will impress anyone this side of Colonel Stapp. To activate, select Ludicrous Speed mode, hold the brake pedal to the floor, then quickly flatten the accelerator and release. Do it right and “Launch Control Enabled” comes up on the screen. While maintaining your left foot on the brake, go back to the accelerator with the right and hold it. When you feel the X’s motors straining against the brakes, release the brake pedal. The acceleration hits so hard that it causes an involuntary and embarrassing “uhhn,” a sound usually reserved for prostate exams.