Evee, Tesla, and Lost Trust

The Rise and Farewell of Evee – My Tesla Story

Let me be clear up front: this isn’t about politics. It’s not about Elon. This is about Evee, my Tesla Model 3 Long Range. And about what it felt like to fall in love with a car, then quietly fall out of love with the brand behind it.

I leased Evee three years ago while living in LA. I remember the anticipation vividly. I ordered her three months in advance, complete with the Full Self Driving package which, let’s be honest, was basically over promised and underdelivered for the first two years. But that didn’t matter at the time. I was excited. Like, really excited.

The day she arrived, I was working from home, still in that awkward post COVID phase where everything felt half-real. A text popped up: Your Tesla has been delivered. I ran outside mid-Zoom call, expecting some kind of fanfare. Maybe a delivery person to hand over keys or walk me through the setup. Nope. No one in sight. Just Evee, sitting quietly in the driveway like she’d always belonged there.

Then my phone buzzed again step-by-step instructions from the Tesla app. For a tech nerd like me, this was heaven. No dealership, no paperwork. Just tap, unlock, drive.

And what a drive. The handling, the torque, the sleek lines. Evee was more than a car. She felt alive. In LA, where every 5th or 6th car is a Tesla, it felt like being part of a quiet, humming community. Not just drivers but believers.

Driving Evee wasn’t just about getting from point A to B. It changed the way I thought about cars. I’d wake up looking forward to running errands just to spend more time behind the wheel. Road trips became something I genuinely looked forward to, not dreaded. The quiet hum, the instant acceleration, the way the car seemed to anticipate what I wanted. It felt like driving a piece of tomorrow.

By the third year, the FSD had finally caught up. It wasn’t perfect, but it was damn close. I drove from LA to Arizona. Arizona to Utah. Utah to Colorado. Then back to Arizona. Hands off the wheel for hours at a time except the occasional nudge to let the system know I was still alive. It felt like the future. And I loved every second of it.

But yesterday, I said goodbye.

I dropped Evee off at a remote Tesla service center in Gypsum, Colorado tucked in the middle of the mountains. The lot was eerie. Hundreds of new Teslas just sitting there. No buzz. No excitement. Just rows of silent machines waiting for homes. It felt... sad. Not just because I was leaving Evee behind, but because the brand itself felt like a ghost of what it once was.

Tesla used to feel like hope. Innovation. Progress. Now? It’s become a flashpoint. A symbol of division. Something I no longer feel proud to support.

I didn’t renew the lease. Didn’t buy her out. As much as I loved Evee, the magic was gone. The car was still amazing but the feeling wasn’t. And without that emotional connection, it just felt like a machine; fast, capable, but empty. I wasn’t saying goodbye to a car. I was letting go of a feeling I didn’t think I’d lose.

And that’s the lesson. Brand isn’t just a logo. It’s not the tech or the product alone. It’s the emotion it stirs. The story it tells. If you’re building a brand, protect that story with everything you’ve got. Because once you lose the heart of it, it’s hard to get it back.

Thanks for the ride, Evee. You were wonderful.