Queen of the Desert

to stay in its ideal rpm range—plus locking differentials (or complex, laggy electronics to simulate a locker) to maximize traction. Any off-road excursion is a constantly changing math problem, picking the right gear to get the right rpm to carry the right amount of speed to trundle through without spinning tires or bogging down.

The R1T asks you to do precisely none of that. You never wonder whether to downshift for power or stay in a higher gear for gentler throttle response. You never need a running start to conquer a steep climb. You can thread a hairpin turn without fighting locked-diff axle hop. The instant torque and split-second reactiveness mean you’ll never get caught uselessly spinning a wheel that’s dangling in the air. The calibration is spot-on; off-road mode gives you gentle response from a long accelerator pedal, perfect for minute adjustments as you power over obstacles. Through frame-twisting transitions, over loose rocks, and up steep, whiteknuckle climbs, nudging the R1T along was blissfully easy. And silent: The only sounds during our climbs and descents were the crunch of rock under tire and ambient tones of undisturbed nature.

It’s hard to overstate how revolutionary this feels. This is what off-roading should have always been—it’s just that, until now, we’ve had to compensate for internal combustion’s shortfalls on every trail ride.

Rivian isn’t the only automaker pursuing off-road-capable EVs. The R1T will soon be joined by electric four-by-fours from a bunch of legacy automakers, and more start-ups are sure to follow. But while many upcoming EV off-roaders bring a cargo hold full of macho corniness (hello, new Hummer), the R1T is packed with stuff a true outdoor adventurer would love—like a bed-mounted air compressor (good for 150 psi), a cable-lock system (for keeping your mountain bike or kayak or whatever safe), and, yes, the Camp Kitchen.

Witness the Gear Tunnel, a full-width storage chamber nestled below the back seats and in front of the rear wheel wells, accessible from either side. It’s big enough to contain one six-foot automotive journalist but is better suited to stashing duffel bags or dirty outdoor gear. For $5000, you can spec your R1T with the Camp Kitchen, which slides out of the Gear Tunnel complete with a two-burner induction cooktop, a four-gallon water tank with pump, a pop-out sink, a four-person tableware set, and a full coffee-making setup. The whole thing draws power from the Rivian’s main battery; running both burners full blast for an hour should eat up only a mile or two of driving range, according to the company. Is it a party trick? Sure it is. During our two days in Colorado, Rivian’s team prepared every meal for more than a dozen people on one truck’s cooktop.

The R1T isn’t perfect. The interior is stylish but too sparse, a victim of touchscreen temptation. Adjustments for sideview mirrors, steering-wheel tilting and telescoping, and A/C vent direction all hide deep within submenus. Aside from the window switches and steering-column stalks, there isn’t a single button or knob on the dash. That lends the R1T a glass-encased futurist aesthetic but leaves you fumbling for the simplest tasks. The same tech reliance extends to the exterior: Every enclosure, from the front trunk to the door handles to the Gear Tunnel, tailgate, and tonneau, is electronically operated. In a hard-core off-roader, this seems like an invitation for malfunction. Then again, the whole truck is powered by electrons.

Overall, though, the R1T is a knockout. It’s more capable and competent than it ever needed to be, on the road or off. It’s a triumph of thoughtful engineering, designed by people who wanted a vehicle for both their hobbies and needs. Just like the best sports cars.

A. The Camp Kitchen embodies Rivian’s whole approach:

Solve an outdoor adventurer’s most drudgerous task with playful design and fastidious attention to detail. B. Front tow hooks are beautifully finished yet fully functional for off-road extraction. C. Trail rides into the deep wilderness may seem foolhardy in an

EV. Rivian plans to address that by building charging stations near state parks and other outdoor-recreation destinations. D. The R1T’s shape makes its size hard to gauge. Minus mirrors, it’s nearly two inches wider than a Ford F-150, but it’s also nearly eight inches shor ter than a four-door long-bed

Chevy Colorado.

I t ’ s a h o t , d u s t y, dry California morning. Really hot. Fry-an-egg-on-my-belly hot. I’m driving up out of the miasma of Los Angeles, past the crowded, toppling wood-frame houses that line Laurel Canyon—past the Houdini Estate, past Canyon Country Store, where a young David Crosby used to buy rolling papers and coconuts for Joni Mitchell in the months before Manson. I turn right onto the rising, winding ridge of Mulholland Drive.

The radio is blasting Jimi Hendrix: “Have you ever been to Electric Ladyland?”

I don’t know if I have been to Electric Ladyland. Hendrix—who has, I suppose—was working around the question of whether or not you’re groovy, whether you peer into the vastness and love what you see. Whether you get it. While I’m probably not groovy, the car I’m driving, the 2022 Audi E-Tron GT, is both electric and groovy. It has been to Electric Ladyland.

If you want to buy an electric grand tourer because it’s electric, you’re missing the point. There are going to be plenty of very practical EVs on the road in the next few years—the Rivian R1T (page 138), the Ford F-150 Lightning, the Kia Niro, the Nissan Leaf, et al. Some are affordable, some have longer range, some offer lots of stowage.

However, the purpose the Audi E-Tron GT serves comes with distinct and fanny-whacking benefits. The first is the simplest. When you lay your right foot into the throttle, you experience— immediately and at all times—a sensation that an internal-combustion engine can offer only after some coaxing: peak power.

This is a definitive sort of swagger, the type of acceleration that must be experienced to be believed. According to that old literary saw, speed is the only truly modern sensation. This kind of speed is absolutely a sensation of the future, and Tesla has certainly used its hair-raising straightline acceleration to make headlines. (The Tesla Model S Plaid, with its plausible 1.9-second 0–60 jump, is stupid, stupid, stupid quick. Just be careful slowing down.)

But Tesla doesn’t make the best EV grand tourer. That accolade would probably go to the mighty Porsche Taycan or its fraternal twin, the

A. (Previous pages) The interior is gorgeous without relying on electric-car styling contrivances. B. Mechanically, the

E-Tron GT is all but identical to the

Porsche Taycan, but the speedy silhouette is unique to Audi. C. Ever y Audi EV model wears the E-Tron name. The addition of the letters RS elevates the experience significantly. Audi E-Tron GT I’m driving out to an old converted airstrip near the Mojave Desert. These two slinky four-doors were developed side by side, each built around a radical 800-volt propulsion architecture that—according to Audi— allows for exceedingly rapid charging and keeps performance consistent through a wide range of ambient temperatures. An innovative two-speed transmission enables breathtaking launches, and the E-Tron GT’s dual electric motors generate a total of 590 hp in the RS version I’m driving. That rises to 637 in launch mode, making this the most powerful Audi ever built—surpassing even the vaunted V-10-powered R8.

But the takeoffs in the E-Tron aren’t what interest me in the Angeles Crest twisties that lead out of L.A. The acceleration gets you in the seat, but the driving dynamics are what keep you there and what, at the end of the day, keep you coming back.