The $73,000 Electric Rivian R1T Is Cute, But It’s Not a Work Truck

(Bloomberg Businessweek) -- RJ Scaringe believes trucks can save the world.

That’s why the 38-year-old vegan spent years developing the R1T, the first-ever production vehicle from the company he founded 12 years ago. 

After multiple production delays—the coronavirus pandemic, the semiconductor shortage, and the essential fact that Rivian had never made any production vehicles all contributed—I found myself driving the $73,000 R1T “Launch Edition” in the Rocky Mountains. It is, at long last, Scaringe’s message to the world: This is how we save the planet.

“For me, my central focus is climate and carbon,” Scaringe told me over a metal bowl of vegetable curry on Sept. 22 in Breckenridge, Colo. Rivian, which anticipates an $80 billion initial public offering this fall, is on the hook to deliver 100,000 electric vans to Amazon.com by 2030, had just announced it would start delivering R1Ts.  

But how’s the truck?

Starting on Sept. 22, I spent three days inhabiting a Forest Green R1T. I crossed the continental divide on paved switchbacks and scaled unpaved shale-shingled peaks near a quite unbothered family of fluffy mountain goats. I ate all my meals from a $5,000 two-burner camp kitchen that fits into a gear tunnel beneath the vehicle.

My first impression was that Scaringe and his tight-knit team did try to think of everything when they made it. It felt as if they had taken their own notes over many back-country climbing and biking trips, then made a vehicle to suit their own Patagonia-loving lifestyle. (Yes, those vertical headlights shaped like big biscotti are different; don’t judge them until you see them in real life, because they actually look pretty cool.)

But there remain some significant red flags waving at us from the truck bed of R1T as it cruises by. The discerning consumer would do well to pause to consider them before making a blind—and I do mean blind, as sales are currently restricted to online—purchase. Let’s discuss.

Not a Work Truck

Laden with vegan-leather seats and an all-glass panoramic roof, the R1T is no workhorse. Its front end will not sustain a snow plow; its 16-inch center touchscreen should not get wet and won’t respond to input from gloved fingers; and its stiff, not-very-adjustable seats lack the comfort of the premium work rigs that double as offices and conference rooms for contractors on the move.

After nine hours during my longest day of driving, my neck and shoulders felt like they had been wedged into rear-row coach status on a transatlantic flight.

Scaringe wants you to believe that this is a truck for campers and climbers, and Rivian did pack enough treats inside to surprise and delight the demanding outdoor enthusiast. At the beginning of my test, I happily stuffed my carry-ons, duffel bags, coats, and scarves into the lockable 11.6-cubic-foot gear tunnel that runs the width of the truck. 

It’s an elegant solution for secure storage without eating into rear-seat legroom, and its doors also double as seats. A full-size storage space under the bed of the truck gives an additional 14.3 cubic feet for luggage and gear.

Elsewhere, the 11-cubic-foot frunk displays Rivian ingenuity: The large storage space can be locked either by using the carabiner key fob, in-vehicle controls on the center display, an exterior button under the front lightbar, or the Rivian app. A cargo net helps store loose items, and lights inside illuminate automatically. A 12-volt outlet runs power from its deep recess.

This is the work of people who live the life they’re trying to sell you. I am already predicting a Rivian x Patagonia special edition, like the kind Ford did with Eddie Bauer back in the day. (Rose Marcario, the former chief executive officer of Patagonia, is a Rivian board member.)

Treats for Every Adventurer

Part of the R1T’s charm is its cleverness: The standard removable Bluetooth speaker stored in the center of the console doubled as a lantern as we ate tacos off the camp kitchen at night. The driver’s side door holds a torch flashlight like the umbrellas that Rolls-Royce first installed in its coaches.

The rear contains a standard air compressor that I used to refill my tires after coming off the rocks we crossed on the trail near Lake Dillon and the Old West town of Montezuma. (We had let some air out earlier to help improve traction.)

The ground covered was not the most extreme I’ve had for an electric vehicle or off-roader. Leave that distinction to the boulders I climbed in Moab in the electric and hybrid Jeep Wranglers and the week I spent in Death Valley dunes in the Rolls-Royce Cullinan. But the R1T proved capable enough in its Off-Road, All-Purpose, Sport, and Conserve modes, which adjust the power, braking, ride height, stiffness, and handling to enhance the truck’s ability.

With nearly 15 inches of clearance, it had me crawling over gullies and up hard-packed inclines with little effort. I loved the shape and feel of the steering wheel and the craftsmanship of the natural-grain ash-wood trim along the doors and dashboard. The cabin seal proved quiet as I plunged through the wilderness. Rivian’s fit-and-finish elements and build quality are better than what Tesla has given us to this point.

But it is expensive to be so seductive. The $73,000 starting price of the R1T I drove didn’t include such other practical things as the three-person tent with cargo crossbars ($2,650), wall charger ($500) or camp kitchen ($5,000). The upcoming Ford F-150 Lightning, for comparison, starts at a far more affordable $39,974.

A less-loaded R1T “Explore” version is due out in January 2022 if Rivian can produce it on time. That one starts at $67,500. 

On the Trail

I drove the R1T 200 highway miles round trip (periodically switching driving duties with another journalist) between Breckenridge and Denver, so I can attest that the R1T is quick—very quick. Its 800-plus horsepower and 900 pound-feet of torque from four electric motors easily pushed it to 100 mph as I glided past RVs lumbering down Loveland Pass. And that’s plenty of power for hauling—more than the F150 and its peers. Rivian says it will hit 60 mph in 3 seconds; it certainly felt so. Top speed will be electronically limited to 110 mph.

I experienced no anxiety related to range, which Rivian says is 314 miles on a single charge of its largest battery option. I found this to be a reliable estimate; in fact, on some segments of the off-road portion of my drive, the truck showed more charge on it than when I had begun, thanks to energy regeneration as I braked down steep grades.

My longest day over nine hours of driving saw the battery go from 215 miles to 89 miles of range. Towing another vehicle would, of course, have depleted the range far more (up to 50%) as would wheel size, which range from 20 to 22 inches and can deplete range an additional 15%. Using DC fast charging, you can add 140 miles of range in 20 minutes, Rivian says. It will take hours to recharge fully.

Unfortunately, as with several other absent applications, including the basic and essential hill-descent control, the truck lacked the ability to monitor actual battery life usage in real time on my trip. “No yet,” was the refrain from Rivian engineers when asked. Rivian offers neither Apple CarPlay nor Samsung connectivity.

Such applications as adaptive cruise control and highway assist required a car restart before they’d work properly. The Highway Assist was so sensitive about navigating gentle corners and speed that it works only if you’re going in a straight line or under the speed limit.

The custom Pirelli Scorpion All-Terrain tires also fared poorly. I got a flat cruising at 8 mph down an easy, straight grade when a small, sharp rock punctured the sidewall. Using the spare tire ($600 to $800, depending on wheel size) hidden in the truck bed, and aided by two Rivian employees, the switch took all of 10 minutes, but I wish Rivian had put as much thought into its antiquated, flimsy tire jack as it had the modern camp kitchen. Made from thin metal and a plastic, frisbee-type base, the apparatus would have been familiar to my grandfather.

It was after the flat that my windows started to fidget; the rubber lining inside had curled up improperly and was blocking them from rolling. I eventually could get them up in fits and starts, but not before poofs of fine dust coated the cabin. The windshield wipers in the Rivian truck ahead of me went on the fritz, erratically jerking while team members tried to remove a Go-Pro before it got knocked off.

“These are pre-production models,” the Rivian employees assured me. The trucks that customers get won’t have any of these pesky glitches, they promised. I look forward to hearing from those who paid the $1,000 deposit required to reserve one, neither seen nor driven.

Caveat Emptor

Rivian (like all electric vehicle companies) still lacks a convenient charging network. Relying on existing CCS fast-charging stations, it installed additional chargers to support my test route. (The “Rivian Adventure” charging network will come at some point in the future, Rivian says.)

Rivian offers four service centers for the entire United States—one near LAX Airport, one in south San Francisco, one in the Seattle suburbs, and one in Brooklyn, N.Y. (Tesla has nearly 200.) Repairs on customer trucks will eventually be done via “mobile” repairmen, a spokesman told me, which sounds to me more like waiting for the cable guy than prompt and reliable service.

Rivian trucks have been run only in tightly controlled scenarios since their inception; they have yet to last even a month in real-world driving by real-world people. Meanwhile, dealership protection laws are blocking Rivian from conducting sales activities in several states. 

Even if the R1T does prove rugged and reliable, I have yet to see any evidence that the core of America’s truck-loving customers will be taken by its altruistic promise. Scaringe will need at least some of those good ol’ boys to get into his rig if he is to have a real chance at fulfilling all that world-changing talk.

I am not a complete cynic. I hope that Scaringe and his band of true believers succeed with their plans to fix the world. But until we see more, I’ll keep my climate-saving efforts to driving old, already made cars and eating vegetable curry.

©2021 Bloomberg L.P.