I sat in a Tesla Model Y with Robotaxi stenciled on the door and watched a Cybercab photo rack up views on X. The car in the picture was half-hidden behind a crowd of workers—and half the internet decided it meant everything and nothing at once. You can feel the tension: marketing theater, regulatory ambiguity, and a product that might arrive very different from the promise.
I cover transport and tech; you probably follow the headlines. Here’s how I sort the noise from the nuts-and-bolts reality so you can decide whether to get excited—or keep your hands on the wheel.
The Robotaxi
I watched a Tesla with a driver and a remote operator pick up passengers in Austin—there was a steering wheel and pedals in plain view.
What you’ll see on Austin streets today are Tesla Model Ys running Tesla’s Full Self-Driving stack with human supervision. They’re marketed internally and on the cars as robotaxis, a name Elon Musk has pushed hard—enough to try to trademark it in 2025—but the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office has pushed back. According to a regulatory filing submitted February 13 to the California Public Utilities Commission, these vehicles operate with both in-car minders and remote operators. That means the cars are supervised systems, not driverless, and they can be taken over by humans if the software trips up.
Performance matters: independent reporting suggests Tesla’s supervised fleet is crashing more often than Waymo’s vehicles, and regulators and riders notice that. Google’s Waymo runs Level 4 operations in limited areas, which the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration classifies as high automation. Tesla’s approach, at least for now, sits lower on that ladder.
What’s the difference between Tesla’s Cybercab and a robotaxi?
Short answer: one is a concept for a wheel-free, pedal-free car; the other is a supervised, modified Model Y carrying passengers today. The robotaxis you see have a steering wheel and a human who can intervene. The Cybercab, as Musk showed it in late 2024, removes those controls and assumes full autonomy—which brings a very different set of regulatory and safety requirements.
The Cybercab
I saw the Cybercab photo Tesla posted on X: a car buried in people, shared the day after Musk said production starts in April.
The Cybercab is the wheel-free concept Tesla introduced in late 2024. Musk has tweeted that production begins in April; Tesla’s own account posted a photo that racked up millions of views but revealed very little. The visual choice—hiding the car in a crowd—sparked speculation that the company is keeping key details private, whether for engineering reasons or PR control. Musk himself has been inconsistent with labels, sometimes swapping robotaxi and Cybercab during presentations, which is a big part of the confusion.
Unlike the supervised Model Ys in Austin, the Cybercab is presented as a vehicle with no steering wheel, no pedals, no rear window, no side mirrors, and only two seats. That design is aimed at a specific use case: short autonomous trips, rideshares, and urban placement—if regulators let it operate. Musk said the Cybercab would cost $30,000 (€25,300); when he previously promised a Cybertruck under $40,000 (€33,700), the production price landed much higher at $61,000 (€51,400).
Are Cybercabs fully autonomous?
Not by default. The Cybercab is designed to operate without driver controls, but whether regulators will certify it as driverless depends on software maturity and local law. Tesla’s current robotaxis in Austin are supervised Level 2 systems under state interpretations; a wheel-free Cybercab would need to reach higher autonomy levels to operate unsupervised in most jurisdictions.
Why the naming mess matters
I’ve sat through Musk product theatrics; the word choices always change how the public and regulators respond.
Calling a supervised Model Y a “robotaxi” implies driverless capability that those cars do not have. Tesla has filed—and lost—trademark bids for terms such as Robotaxi and Cybercab, partly because regulators and patent offices view the language as generic or misleading. The company appears to be pushing a marketing line while simultaneously telling regulators its tech needs human supervision. That tension gives Tesla the benefits of catchier branding without assuming the legal responsibilities of true autonomy.
What will owning a Cybercab look like?
I heard the Cybercab’s lead designer describe a flexible ownership experience: buy it, lease it, and let it collect fares when you’re not using it.
Musk has said consumers could buy a Cybercab and then add it to Tesla’s robotaxi network to earn income. That model shifts a lot of control back to Tesla: software updates, fleet dispatch, pricing algorithms, and remote oversight. Think of it as a product that could operate as your car on weekends and as a company-controlled ride service during the week—a Trojan horse for new monetization, if you prefer a blunt image rather than a pitch.
When does Cybercab production start?
Musk tweeted that Cybercab production begins in April; Tesla’s social channels shared a production-line photo days later. Whether those units roll out to consumers or remain internal validation vehicles depends on regulatory signoffs, safety tests, and whether Tesla opts for supervised or unsupervised deployments.
Regulation, rivals, and real-world friction
I attended a city board meeting where transit officials voted to oppose more autonomous deployments; local politics matters more than Silicon Valley press releases.
Approval from local governments is the single biggest gating factor. The U.S. Department of Transportation under Secretary Sean Duffy has signaled moves toward national rules, but cities and transit agencies are unpredictable. Waymo has expanded cautiously, and places that accept Level 4 operations still face local pushback—San Diego’s transit board, for example, resisted Waymo’s proposed expansion recently. That’s before you consider liability, insurance, and the optics of more crashes in a supervised Tesla fleet.
There’s also a cultural barrier. Tesla and Musk have a polarizing brand; some riders will avoid a vehicle associated with him regardless of tech maturity. Public trust matters as much as test-track metrics when you want people to climb into a wheel-free car.
How this could go wrong—or work
I’ve watched product promises shift into smaller, real-world rollouts before; the Loop is a recent example where spectacle outpaced usable service.
Tesla has a pattern: bold demos, theatrical reveals, then narrower deployments. That magician’s sleight of hand builds excitement but often leaves the practicalities—regulatory approvals, safety margins, pricing—on the cutting-room floor. If the Cybercab hits market as a truly wheel-free, fully autonomous vehicle that meets local safety tests, it could fast-track a new kind of urban mobility. If not, it will be another high-concept product that ends up constrained by law and reality.
Who to watch and which sources matter
I track filings, regulator statements, and independent safety audits; you should, too.
Follow filings with the California Public Utilities Commission, NHTSA notices, and DOT guidance under Secretary Sean Duffy. Independent outlets such as Electrek and Gizmodo have been reporting on testing snapshots and crash rates; Waymo’s safety pages show the contrast between an operating Level 4 service and Tesla’s supervised deployments. Those will be the places where claims meet data.
So: are you buying into a future of wheel-free robotaxis, or watching another Silicon Valley promise inch toward a safer, slower reality? Which outcome worries you more—widespread supervised fleets with frequent interventions, or a premature release of wheel-free cars before regulators and safety data say they’re ready?