Musky Dick; Or, The Silver Whale

I never actually read Herman Melville’s classic novel, but I understand Ahab’s obsession

My Uber driver got lost and instead of getting on the FDR he went into the Battery Tunnel. I was furious until I was blessed by this Cybertruck sighting.

Call me Ishmael. 

That’s not my name and I don’t have any particular affinity for being called anything other than Charlie, but there’s a law buried deep within the Media Rule Book™ that if I’m going to use an admittedly hacky formatting template poking fun at “Moby Dick” my article needs to start with those three words. The penalty for violating this is up to five years of hard labor at the clickbait factory. But I digress… 

In the novel, Captain Ahab loses his leg to the titular white whale (Ahab’s literal job was killing whales, this seems like an expected hazard of the gig) and is filled with rage and the blinding desire to get revenge. It takes over every aspect of his being. I always thought he was being a little overly dramatic (you survived a whale attack, bro! Walk away while you’re ahead) and I found this type of mania completely unrelatable… until Tesla announced the Cybertruck.

I became just like Ahab, except I wasn’t fueled by a need for vengeance or retribution; my search was driven by schadenfreude and mockery. 

I was immediately fascinated by the Cybertruck. As I watched the unveiling, it all seemed so silly to me. The truck looked so dumb before Elon bragged about the strength of its unbreakable “armor glass.” Seconds later one of Musk’s lackeys came out and gently tossed a metal ball at the passenger window, instantly shattering it. I giggled and assumed that would be it. They’d bury the project and it would be forgotten until the spiritual successor to VH1 drops “I Love the 2020s” in the late 2070s and a clone of Andy Dick screams, “Remember the Cybertruck?” I’ve never been more wrong about something in my life. 

Elon dug in. Elon’s frothing fanboys dug in. And somehow, against all decency, the Cybertruck was eventually shipped out to people who in defiance of logic (and dignity) spent between $60,000 and $120,000 (depending on the specific model) for the privilege of announcing to the world what an enormous asshole they were. 

And it was upon their release that my quest began. I had to see one. I needed to revel in its inglorious stupidity. But I couldn’t find one anywhere. Maybe the good people of the great state of New Jersey were immune to the brain virus required to want one of these monstrosities, but that seemed incredibly unlikely. I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

A month or two went by and I couldn’t go on my phone without seeing a new meme or video of a Cybertruck. They looked surreal. Like a car in a video game from the 1980s that hadn’t had time to finish rendering. Like a Transformer whose two forms are a dumpster and a dumpster-shaped truck that couldn’t drive over a curb. 

I’d log on and everybody was seeing them. Everybody was laughing at them. Everybody was having a wonderful time poking fun at this meme on wheels. Everybody but me. 

I became obsessed. I’d go to the local coffee shop to work, but instead, I’d spend all my time gazing out the window hoping to see one. I started rerouting the paths I’d walk to go past neighborhoods a friend had spotted one in. And most of all, I whined about how it was unfair that everybody else got to see one. It was unbecoming. I believe the term the youths would use is “cringe.” 

And then on one bright and sunny afternoon I was walking home with my wife, paying no attention to my surroundings, and ranting about some nonsense that I can’t even recall (It was probably about Tottenham’s latest disappointment) when she stopped in her tracks and yelled at me to look up. 

There it was right in front of me, waiting to turn right. Although dumbstruck, my muscle memory kicked into gear and I did exactly what all of us do when we see something stupid happening before their very eyes — I grabbed my phone and started filming.

Listen to me. Do you hear the pure unbridled joy in my voice? I don’t know if there is another time in my life that I’ve ever felt so giddy. I spent the entire day driving my friends crazy by endlessly gushing about my encounter. 

“Hey Charlie, how’s it going?” my bartender friend asked as he poured me a drink.

“This is the greatest day of my life! I finally saw a Cybertruck! And let me tell you…” 

I’ll save you from transcribing the next 14 minutes of the conversation, by this time you already know the gist of it. But it was as I reveled in the stupidity of Elon Musk’s brilliant innovation that actually loses money for Tesla that I learned a very powerful lesson — friendship rules. 

My friends don’t really give a shit about any of this, but they all high-fived me and listened to me tell an insanely mundane story about seeing a car. They still send me Cybertruck memes and videos whenever they find a new one. It’s really silly, but not sad silly like the Cybertruck, fun silly like those TikTok videos where the guy turns toilets into destructive pendulums. 

Of course, the obsession is still there, just dulled a little. Now I want to collect exotic Cybertrucks. I finally saw an all black one this past weekend, which, if I’m being honest and fair, is 8% less ugly than the silver version. Once I spot one with a truly unhinged decal wrap, like the one Adin Ross gave to Donald Trump, I can finally close this chapter of my life. 

At least until there’s a new submersible or doomed mission to Mars or pygmy hippo or whatever grabs my attention next. I know I’m not the only one who is wired this way. The comment section is a safe space to pontificate on your current pop culture/meme-related obsession. Let’s all sound off on the dumb shit that’s giving us a little joy these days.