I recently reviewed the Slate Truck EV for the channel, and something interesting happened in the comments section. We’re all prone to biased opinions, but I was genuinely surprised just how many comments were so dismissive of this intriguing new idea.

The Slate is built on the idea that people would rather buy something boring, simple, and as a “blank slate” than spend a ton of money for a bunch of features packaged into an overpriced vehicle. To me, it’s the perfect vehicle to customize and make your own. Obviously, I am biased, because I think you should customize any and every car you own.

This got me thinking about something we don't talk about enough: your car is one of the loudest statements you make about yourself, whether you intend it to be or not.

Every time you drive somewhere, you're broadcasting information about yourself to everyone who sees you. The car you choose, how you maintain it, what stickers are on it, whether it's clean or dirty, whether it's new or old, whether it runs perfectly or sounds like it's held together by hope and zip ties.

All of this communicates something, even when you're not trying to communicate anything.

The guy in the pristine vintage Porsche is saying something different than the person in the 300,000-mile Honda Civic held together with duck tape. The family in the three-row SUV is broadcasting different priorities than the solo commuter in the decade-old compact. None of these statements are better or worse. They're just honest reflections of different values, circumstances, and choices.

The Slate Truck is fascinating to me because it forces this conversation about automotive self-expression into sharp focus (for more on this, check out our podcast episode). It's an electric truck from a startup, which immediately puts it in a category that makes some people defensive and others excited before they know anything else about it.

When I was checking it out in person, I kept thinking about what choosing this specific vehicle would say. You're not just buying transportation. You're not even just buying an electric vehicle. You're buying into a specific vision of what the future of trucks should look like, from a company most people have never heard of, that already has a reputation because of who their biggest investor is.

That takes a certain personality. Someone willing to be the first one in their area driving something unfamiliar. Someone who's okay with explaining their vehicle choice to skeptical neighbors. Someone who values being early to new technology over the safety of established brands.

There's no judgment in that observation. It's just recognizing that vehicle choice is personality expression, whether we're conscious of it or not.

My Honda Element says I value function over form, practicality over status, and that I'm probably okay with people thinking I have questionable taste.

It says I'm the kind of person who will choose a vehicle specifically because it's useful for camping and hauling stuff, even though it looks like a refrigerator on wheels.

My brother's non-running CRX and the two Integras I’ve been holding on to forever, say we're hoarders both the kind of people who believe in the possibility of resurrection. That we value the potential in broken things more than the convenience of things that work. That we're optimistic to the point of delusion about our mechanical abilities. That we see just how difficult it may be to replace these machines in the future.

These aren't conscious branding exercises. These are reflections of who we are, expressed through metal, motors, and a driveway that, thankfully, allows me to play musical cars.

Here's where it gets complicated…once you become aware that your car is expressing something about you, it's hard to unsee it. Suddenly, every vehicle choice becomes weighted with meaning.

Do you buy the practical car that makes financial sense but feels boring? Do you buy the interesting car that makes you happy but seems irresponsible? Do you buy the electric vehicle because you believe in the technology, or do you avoid it because you don't want people to assume things about your politics?

The answer is yes.

The automotive industry has gotten very good at selling identity rather than transportation. The latest Jeep and Ram truck ads are a shining example of the groupthink approach that plagues the automotive world.

Your car is a statement about who you want to be, not just what you need to drive. Maybe that’s why mine are always a constant work in progress…

My YouTube channel exists because I decided that my automotive self-expression should be honest about the reality of car ownership rather than aspirational about the fantasy of it.

I could make content about the exotic cars I see and dream builds and perfect restorations. But that wouldn't be authentic to my actual experience, which, at least for now, is more about projects that never finish. I hope it connects me to the community of people who understand that automotive enthusiasm doesn't require a trust fund.

The decision to focus on realistic, relatable car content instead of aspirational content is itself a form of self-expression. It’s also about what I want to watch…I’d rather hear you talk about something personal as you tinker on some project than see you buying your 10th unobtainable car for the channel. Nothing against the latter, sometimes that’s cool, but most of the time I’d rather watch something relatable.

Coming back to the Slate Truck review, what struck me most about the vehicle wasn't its specs or performance. It was what choosing it would represent: a willingness to bet on something unproven, to be comfortable with uncertainty, to value innovation over established reliability. It’s a modern vehicle, clearly built for the future. Yet, it’s also a step back to a simpler time.

That's not for everyone, and it shouldn't be. Just like all industries, the automotive world needs people who buy the safe choice and people who buy the experimental one. It needs early adopters and patient observers. It needs risk-takers and careful planners.

In my opinion, what matters is whether your choice is authentic to who you really are, not who you think you should be.

What I want people to take from my car content is this…

Your car doesn't have to make a statement anyone else understands or approves of. It just has to be YOU, honest to your actual needs, values, and circumstances.

Drive the practical car if that's what works. Drive the impractical car if that's what makes you happy. Drive the weird car if weird is authentic to who you are. Drive the boring car if boring is what you need right now.

The only wrong choice is choosing based on what you think other people want you to choose.

You don’t need permission. You already have it. Permission to drive something that doesn't make sense on paper but works for your life. Permission to keep the car that everyone says you should replace. Permission to be excited about vehicles that don't impress anyone else.

Your car is talking about you behind your back (unless it’s this one). The question is, are you okay with what it's saying? And if you're not, are you changing the car or changing yourself?

To me, the most authentic form of automotive self-expression is when those two things align: when what you drive honestly reflects who you are, without apology or pretense.

That's what I'm pursuing through Pursuit of Something. Not the perfect car or the impressive build or the vehicle that makes other people respect me.

Just the honest expression of someone who loves cars, works on cars, and believes that automotive enthusiasm should be accessible to everyone, regardless of budget or mechanical skill.

The Slate Truck will work for some people and not for others. Same with my Element, your Civic, their truck, anyone's choice.

The real question isn't whether you're driving the right vehicle. It's whether you're driving your vehicle for the right reasons.

Stay in motion (even if the economics are questionable),

- Nick
Founder, PURSUIT OF SOMETHING

About to go on the pursuit of some dinner ✌️