People can’t believe how much it cost him in eIectricity to run his Tesla for a whole year. It wouIdn’t be silly to think that the costs of running a Tesla might be slightly extortionate when taking a look at how much the cars cost in the first place. And while electric cars are looking like the way forward, people might be put off by the rising eIectricity costs.People were left baffIed on X, formerly known as Twitter, when a man shared his electric bill after a year of driving the car – and the figure was certainIy surprising.We all know that petrol and diesel are definitely not the cheapest ways to get around, but how much does it really cost to run one of Elon Musk’s motors? The man captioned the post: “First time I have had a bill within the last 12 months. “This sucks.”
He was writing sarcastically, of course, after seeing that his electricity bill was actually in single digits. After a year? You did read that right. The balance due was just $2.37 (£1.89)– rather than the hundreds of dollars you might assume it costs to charge your car regularly over a month.
But how on earth did it only cost so littIe?
Well, upon taking a closer look, it appears it’s still a pretty expensive process.The user’s cover photo displays a Tesla Powerwall, which is a huge battery that loops into your home’s power and is really handy to have if you have got solar panels.
It means that the solar panels which power your house, also store excess charge in your Powerwall, which charges your car. But these don’t come at a small cost, as you may have presumed. The Powerwalls start at around $11,500 (£9,000), but can range up to $15,000 (£11,800), according to Forbes.
If you plan to keep your Tesla for a number of years, which evens this figure out a bit, maybe there’s a case for it working out in the Iong-run to be borderline cost effective.
That’s if someone could hand us nine grand, please?
People joked in the comments about the Tesla owner’s sarcastic post, one said: “Damn my dude post a GoFundMe the community will rally around you I’m sure.”
Another said: “That’s horrible.
“My condolences.”
Tesla went viraI again this year after reIeasing their latest creation: the Cybertruck.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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