Tested! The 845-HP 2024 Tesla Cybertruck Beast Annihilates Supercars and Common Sense
Tesla’s record-shattering electric hypertruck is fast, fun, and deeply flawed.
Pros
- Quicker to 60 mph than just about everything
- Comfortable, controlled ride quality
- The ultimate statement-maker
Cons
- Terrible visibility
- Permanently grimy stainless-steel body
- Extremely compromised
Stage your favorite pickup next to the 2024 Tesla Cybertruck Beast on a drag strip, and it’s going to lose. Doesn’t matter if the Tesla’s foe has a massive forced-induction engine or a trick multi-motor electric powertrain—the so-called Cyberbeast will beat it.
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Yes, the Cyberbeast is the quickest truck of all time, by considerable margins. It’s so rapid it doesn’t only dominate every other truck, but speeds away from some iconic supercars. Don't think that’s all there is to it, though—intense acceleration is only part of the Cyberbeast’s absurdity.
It’s Here
How surreal to realize the Cybertruck actually exists, although it still isn’t finished five long years after the truck’s reveal. The promised range, price, and towing capacity didn’t make it to reality and probably never will. Our privately owned truck—lent to us by Out of Spec—was still waiting for software updates to enable Full Self-Driving and basic off-road features. We won't be surprised if the single-motor, rear-drive entry-level model never goes into production. For now, trucks rolling out of Tesla’s Gigafactory in Austin, Texas, are limited-edition Foundation Series models. Dual-motor models cost $102,235, while the triple-motor setup that earns the Beast designation costs a precious $119,990.
We already tested the dual-motor Cybertruck. With 600 hp and 525 lb-ft of torque, it accelerates to 60 mph in 3.8 seconds, 100 mph in 9.7 seconds, and through the quarter mile in 12.4 seconds at 110.3 mph. That’s quick—but the Cyberbeast obliterates it.
The Quickest Pickup Truck Ever
You can identify a Cyberbeast by the snarling Cerberus—the three-headed dog of Greek mythology—laser-etched into its stainless-steel tailgate. Like the Model S Plaid, it uses one motor to drive both front wheels and devotes an individual motor to each rear wheel. Combined output from the trio is 845 hp and 864 lb-ft.
This propels the 6,884-pound Cyberbeast to 60 mph in 2.5 seconds, half a second clear of the next-quickest truck, the GMC Hummer EV. It’s further ahead of the four-motor Rivian R1T, which needs 3.1 seconds. Combustion-powered trucks don’t stand a chance; the supercharged Ford F-150 Raptor R and Ram 1500 TRX need a wheezing 3.9 seconds. Even the mighty Bugatti Veyron took 2.7 seconds.
At 6.6 seconds to 100 mph, the Cyberbeast edges out the Porsche 911 GT3 RS and leads every other truck by more than a second. Trapping 11.0 seconds at 113.7 mph also makes it the fastest truck we’ve ever tested through the quarter mile. And it should’ve been faster. Our production truck ran into a speed limiter 200 feet before the finish line, despite Tesla’s boast of a 130-mph top speed. A company insider tells us that’s another unfinished feature that will be unlocked with a software update.
Impressive Accolades
Other test results likewise impress, though not to the same indomitable extent. A 60-0 mph stopping distance of 126 feet is good considering its all-terrain tires, tying a Toyota Tundra TRD Pro and R1T wearing knobby rubber. Then again, both an R1T and a Ford F-150 Lightning shod in pavement-oriented all-season tires halted in 117 feet. Furthermore, this number doesn’t illustrate how the Cyberbeast’s brakes feel. Tesla's motor regen effect is so strong it’s often not necessary to use the friction brakes. When it is, though, the pedal is unnervingly soft and vague, never producing a sensation that pads are biting against rotors.
Holding 0.77 g average around the skidpad makes the Cyberbeast sticky for a full-size truck on all-terrain rubber, matching a Ford F-150 Lightning on all-seasons. Our R1T long-term review truck accomplished the same on its all-terrain rubber, but a different quad-motor example on all-seasons gripped to 0.86 g average.
On our figure-eight course, the Cyberbeast’s raw acceleration helps it claw back advantages. It completed the lap in 26.6 seconds at 0.72 g average, the fastest time we’ve recorded from a truck on all-terrain tires. It betters the dual-motor Cybertruck’s 27.3-second lap and makes a mockery of the F-150 Raptor R’s 29.4-second time. An R1T quad motor on all-terrains tied the Cyberbeast’s time but only held on to 0.68 g average—pop all-seasons on that Rivian, though, and it rips around in 25.5 seconds at 0.73 g average.
Of course, numbers never define how a vehicle drives. Road test editor and resident hotshoe Chris Walton had some things to say about what he felt at the Cyberbeast’s helm. “Clearly, it’s quick, but the brakes and tires are challenged. Acclimating to the steering didn’t take much time, but each lap was an experiment. The Cyberbeast does nothing predictably or repeatably. Sometimes it gave me accelerator control and modulation, sometimes it would take it away, and I could flat-foot the pedal until the steering was essentially straight, and only then it gave me power. Sometimes, I could predict and avoid ABS, other times it would activate and I’d spear off and miss the entry. Just when I got into a rhythm, a brake temperature warning appeared, and I had to drive around to cool them before starting over.”
He wasn’t done. “As I said about the dual-motor Cybertruck, this thing feels like it had zero development drivers behind the wheel. It’s a rolling Excel spreadsheet, not a true, vetted consumer product.” Coming from a guy who’s tested thousands of vehicles, that judgment cuts like the bare metal body’s unhemmed edges.
Beast on a Leash
Walton’s analogy could describe the Cyberbeast as a whole. It’s as if Tesla designed it without much regard for how it’d work on this planet, instead prioritizing an aesthetic that sucks in attention like a four-wheeled black hole. Few practical outcomes ensue from this approach.
Start with the stainless steel. The stiff body panels provide high impact resistance, but get dirty easily, constantly. Trying to keep the Cybertruck clean is an unwinnable battle. The owner's manual has a section nearly as lengthy as this article with excruciating care instructions, including the warning, “Do not use hot water.” The body is a sponge for fingerprints, and its blunt front end slaughters insects, which Tesla says must be cleaned immediately to “prevent damage to the exterior.” Imagine that—the claimed “world’s toughest truck” withstands sledgehammers better than butterflies. A protective aftermarket wrap seems necessary.
The Cybertruck’s shape also inherently compromises its functionality. This isn’t to suggest that usefulness must always supersede style, but it’s rare to encounter a vehicle that so forcefully defies common sense. The rearview mirror is the size of a candy bar, and it becomes entirely useless when the metal tonneau cover is closed, as is necessary to extend driving range. Those triangular side mirrors work about as well as you’d think. Seeing what’s around the truck is an ordeal; the too-small camera views shown on the infotainment display are a meager substitute for seeing things with your own eyes.
Don’t forget this is still supposed to be a truck, too. The way its body sides rise over the bed means cargo can only be accessed through the tailgate, not from the top. Space is boosted by the underbed storage locker and front trunk, neither of which contain a standard spare tire. In our earlier Cybertruck test we found it to flounder off-road, although it’s an adept tow rig—and the Cyberbeast’s extra power likely makes trailering even more effortless.
How far the Beast goes on a charge also impressively defies logic. It covered 229 miles in MotorTrend’s Road-Trip Range test, farther than the Dual Motor’s 224-mile run. Tesla says and reason suggests the more powerful truck should have less range. Scratch it up to the pair’s different powertrain architectures: The Cyberbeast uses a permanent-magnet motor up front and induction motors out back, while the dual-motor model has induction front and permanent-magnet rear units. Tesla’s silent on specifics about software controls or battery chemistries for each model. Regardless, our test team observed both versions hit a peak initial charge rate of 249 kW and add more than 90 miles of range in the first 15 minutes after plugging in at 5 percent charge.
A Truck Like Never Before—and Perhaps Never Again
Tesla has never played by the rules and the Cybertruck is its most audacious attack on conventionality yet. A paradox like few vehicles in history, you might presume the driving experience is accordingly bizarre. To an extent, yes, but the Cyberbeast feels far more normal—and fun—than its looks suggest.
Severe styling belies unexpectedly placid road manners. Those knife-like edges cheat wind, keeping the cabin hushed at highway speeds. Ride quality on the air springs and adaptive dampers is impressively refined. Despite its name and brutalist styling, the Cybertruck Beast is much more comfortable and poised than the soap-bar Model Y or Model 3. It soaks up undulations to make them undetectable, and impacts that rise into the cabin are never harsh or firm.
That’s even more remarkable given how well the truck resists body roll and how stiff the body structure itself feels. As noted by Walton, the four-wheel steer-by-wire system, which is constantly changing its ratio, can’t keep up at the limit, but in real-world driving the Cyberbeast skates around corners with alacrity. Only track cars also give so much movement for such little steering input, yet the system isn’t overwhelming or unnatural. Rather, it makes vehicles with conventional steering feel old-fashioned. The odd rectangular “wheel” is weighty and direct, resulting in instant directional changes, contrary to the light, vague, and ponderous steering common among traditional trucks.
Then there’s the power, and the stunning, ballistic acceleration. As if the Cyberbeast’s looks weren’t enough, this bewildering speed emphasizes its insanity. There’s a long list of reasons why no automaker has made a truck like this before, and the Cybertruck’s flaws suggest only the boldest might dare to create a vehicle so flagrantly idiosyncratic. That’s why there won’t be another pickup that can snap necks—on the drag strip or the boulevard—like the wild Cyberbeast anytime soon.
Alex's earliest memory is of a teal 1993 Ford Aspire, the car that sparked his automotive obsession. He's never driven that tiny hatchback—at six feet, 10 inches tall, he likely wouldn't fit—but has assessed hundreds of other vehicles, sharing his insights on MotorTrend as a writer and video host.
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