The Other Secret Plan: Tesla as Ticket to Heaven It’s a little known fact that there is another secret plan associated with the popularization of the electric car. But this plan comes from a different source. Beyond the long list of features available on a Tesla automobile there is a major selling point few are aware of. It is this: Driving a Tesla is of benefit not only in this life, but in the afterlife as well. To illustrate this point let’s take the heretofore unknown fable of Noah Farsight. Noah spent his childhood as an honor student in parochial school. In his teens he became a boy scout and helped little old ladies cross the street. His parents saved hard to afford college for their beloved child. They planned for him to become an environmentalist. However, as a young adult Noah fell in with the wrong crowd, gave into temptation, and to make a long story short he ended up with a career as a contract killer for The Mob. Noah knew the difference between right and wrong, but he was very good at his work, and the mob boss that recruited him told Noah that when he died, if he showed remorse at the gates of heaven they had to let him in. So Noah viewed this as a win-win scenario. A career as a hitman paid well and gave him lots of free time, plus he could kick it in heaven later... as long as he recalled his boss's tip. Noah’s line of work made him so wealthy he was able to afford a Tesla Roadster, which he used to cruise the strip and pick up chicks. He later settled down and bought a Model S. Noah developed a deep love for the electric car –there was an almost mystical aspect to Noah’s relationship with his Model S– and he decided to drive nothing but electric vehicles for the rest of his life… which as it turns out was rather short. One day Noah got hit by a car on his way to the job. The driver had run a red light. Wouldn't you know, it was an ICE vehicle. Noah died instantly. Shortly after he expired, the clouds parted, two angels glided down, took ahold of Noah's spirit body, flew him back up through the opening, and, free of the gaze of the mortals below, ushered Noah to the nearest waystation. At the waystation there were two elevators. One elevator had a solitary up arrow above it, the other elevator was fitted with only a down arrow. Not being anyone’s fool Noah lurched free of his escorts and bolted to the lift bearing the up arrow, his feet spinning around not unlike those cartoon characters you see. The door was open, but an elderly angel guarding the entrance lifted a finger, and Noah slammed to a halt right at the doorway. The angel was wearing a pair of rectangular half-framed reading glasses. You know, like the kind that certain politicians wear halfway down their nose in Senate hearings in order to be able to look condescendingly over their glasses and down their nose at the person testifying. Anyway, the guardian angel had not even looked up from the weathered copy of ‘The Divine Comedy’ she had been reading before intercepting Noah. The cherub now removed her spectacles for a quick wipe, replaced them in the precise location as before, which was exactly half way down her nose, cleared her throat, looked over her glasses and down her nose at Noah, and bellowed: “Where in the hell do you think you’re going!!” After an unavoidable gulp Noah stammered out: “I’m sorry for all my sins. Now, may I please get on this elevator, which presumably goes to heaven.” Despite the stammer, Noah said this in a slightly demanding, but actually more entitled, tone of voice. There was a moment of silence, which was followed by the two escort angels breaking out in hysterical laughter. One of the escorts, who was wearing John Lennon style granny glasses, composed herself long enough to inquire: “Dude, what have you been smoking all your life? You have to show remorse before you die. Plus, you have to ask for forgiveness too. Wait... don't tell me... some idiot told you that you could get away with murder on earth as long as you feigned regret at the gates of heaven". Further hysterics ensued. After the laughter retreated there was the briefest of moments wherein Noah recovered from the shock of the news, composed himself, thought up an on-the-spot gambit, and declared without a stammer: “There’s been a misunderstanding. I have a clean record. I actually have no sins to be forgiven for. I was just saying that.” The angels had to admire Noah's mettle, but of course they knew better. It’s hard to deceive an angel. But, ever since back when that Angel ‘Clarence’ got his wings (and a promotion), waystation rules had been tightened. And of course that mess with Joe Pendleton’s escort pulling him out of his body before the outcome of his car accident was determined, well, that had really shaken up the whole waystation sub-system. No one was taking any chances on inadvertently placing some poor soul in the down elevator, lest they join them on the ride. So Noah’s claim to be sin-free, however suspicious, had to be looked into. Half-frames sighed and held up her hand: “Chart please”, she demanded. Noah’s chart, which was a recording of his whole life, disappeared from under the arm of Granny-glasses and reappeared in Half-frames’ open palm. The aged angel started reading all six million pages from the beginning, saying nothing, just shaking her head from side to side at nearly every page turn. She got near the end. Noah’s face was drooping. He knew his con had failed. His eyes darted to the elevator under the down arrow. While scanning the very last page, Half-frames suddenly looked up at the two escorts, let out a little fart, and calmly said: “This chart is incomplete. There’s no end-of-file marker”. She then unapologetically adjusted her bottom on the elevator stool and waited for a response from the escort angels. … … “I was afraid of that”, said Granny-glasses. The other escort never spoke much, but both were looking downward and kicking absentmindedly at the carpet of clouds with their angel slippers. Granny-glasses continued, “There’s a glitch in the matrix". Half-frames: “A glitch?” Granny-glasses: “Yes.” Half-frames: “What kind of glitch?” Granny-glasses: “The kind where the system doesn’t pick up the last couple of years’ worth of the soul’s thoughts, words, and deeds.” Half-frames: “That’s quite a while in human terms. Why hasn’t the software been patched?” Granny-glasses: “Budget cuts.” Half-frames reaches for a nearby phone, pushes a button labeled ‘Mr. Jordon’, speaks in hushed tones for a full three millionths of a second, then hangs up the phone. She turns toward the escorts. “One of you get your butt back down there and manually retrieve the missing deeds of this man’s life.” Forget the thoughts and words. Just get the high value stuff. Granny-glasses wiggles her nose and dematerializes. The other escort makes a whooshing sound with her mouth. It is clear to Noah that both Granny-glasses and the nameless angel can demonstrate levity under duress. He smirks, then lets out a laugh. Forget heaven and hell, Noah wanted to hang with this crew. Maybe they could use a little muscle from time to time. Granny-glasses rematerializes a second later and hands over two handwritten pages to Half-frames. The first page is read. The second page is read. Immediately the doors to the down elevator close. The doors to the up elevator remain open. Half-frames tosses the pages in the air, they fade into nothingness, and she rearranges her hand to point respectfully to the up elevator. Half-frames: “We were mistaken Noah” (it’s the first time she’s called him by name). “Help yourself.” Noah: “Uh… yeah… well, like I was say- oh the hell with it! What was in those last two pages??” Half-frames: “It said you had put over 100,000 miles on an electric car. That’s over the threshold.” Noah: “What the-” Half-frames: “That’s the kind of behavior we’re looking for Noah! These are the kinds of deeds that make a difference to your fellow human beings!! Driving those non-polluting automobiles made the lives of millions of people just a little better. Millions. Rarely has one person has ever helped that many people in a single lifetime. You redeemed yourself, Noah.” The ancient angel then leaned close to Noah and lowered her voice. “Truth be told Noah, there’s one person up there… I can’t name names… but their initials are J.C. … He’s very proud of you Noah. He says he’s also pretty proud of that guy that popularized the electric car -you know, the guy with the funny sounding name- but it is you folks, the drivers that traded in your highly addictive ICE machines for non-polluting vehicles… you folks are the real heroes. You are part of the plan to save the world. And we have a special place in Heaven reserved for all of you that have joined the Hundred Thousand Mile club. Noah: Does that include the guy with the funny sounding name too? Half-frames: “Of course. He's over the threshold too”. Noah: “Thank you, but what about the drivers of the ICE machines? The ones who could have switched but didn’t”? Half-frames: “Worry not Noah, we have a special place reserved for them as well”. THE END ----------------- TOP 10 TICKET TO HEAVEN LIST: --------------- Naturally there will be a lot of questions about the details of this plan. To avoid a lot of redundant prayers this FAQ has been prepared. I – If I drive a Model S over a Model 3 will the 100,000 mile threshold be lowered? No. All Tesla models are equal in the eyes of God. II – If I paid for a lot of optional accessories like a sound system, dueling motors, larger battery, etc., is the 100,000 mile requirement reduced? Uh… No. And it's dual motors. III – If I buy a Nissan Leaf or a Chevy Bolt, and then later switch to a Model 3 is the mileage from the differing makers cumulative? Yes. Unlike certain humans, the lord does not discriminate among electric car brands. For the purposes of saving the planet, electric is electric. In fact, I was asked to underscore this point. Try and stop criticizing each other. Or do we need to send down yet another special messenger to be endlessly persecuted in order to drill this into your heads? IV – When are you going to update the software so that I don’t have to go through what Noah did? I’m not a killer, but I’m not exactly an angel either. Already taken care of. Do you think we’re a bunch of dolts up here? V – Is there a limit to the number of endless, inane questions we can ask about this plan? Yes. And you just hit it. Therefore VI-X will be dropped. You’ve got enough to go on. Just remember this mantra we gave you back in the 60s: Give a Hoot - Don’t Pollute! You don’t find these garden planets on every street corner.