Slingshot: Frequently Hooliganesque Driver answers Frequently Asked Questions

I’ll tell you this much: I’ve operated some crazy vehicles. Choppers. Race machines. An ancient wheel loader. Antiques with two and four wheels. Drag cars. A rollback wrecker. A hot-rodded golf cart. Built minibikes. Even though I'm at high risk of being jaded, the Slingshot will stick out in my mind as one of the more unique modes of transport I’ve been fortunate enough to spend some time with.

If you own (or borrow!) one of these, you better not be shy. The title to a Slingshot pretty much comes with a guarantee you’re gonna be peppered with questions. Here’s a few of the ones I received along with what I feel are their corresponding answers.

Whoa! What is that thing?

It’s a Polaris Slingshot. It is a toy for grownups to play with. (You, readers, likely know what this is. It’s been on the market forever, it’s gotten tons of press, but a lot of non-rider-type people asked.) It is powered by a fairly workaday GM engine that is anything but mundane once loaded into a vehicle constructed effectively of steel tubing and plastic panels. 

How much does one cost?

Uh, isn’t that a little rude to ask? It’s somewhere between 20 and 30 grand, depending on what you buy.

Why would you buy that?

I didn’t buy it. I’m actually being paid to drive it. But I can explain why someone else might fork over some doll-hairs for this beautiful, ridiculous Chad-taxi, I think.

It’s fun, just like a motorcycle. It makes people happy. You know that couple you see where the guy is all ugly and the girl is real cute? She just likes him. Doesn’t make sense; doesn’t have to.

The Slingshot is not inexpensive, but it’s not unattainable, either. This 2018 SLR I got my paws on costs $28,999, but you can get in the door for a lot cheaper. The S Model, at $19,995, has the exact same runnin’ gear. The SLR boasts an LCD screen (and navigation), a sound system, LED interior lighting, and fancier wheels and tires. There’s also a wheel upgrade and fancy seats, as well as a Sparco steering wheel, pedal covers, and shift knob.

The goodies are nice, I guess, but this thing is hilarious because of the drivetrain; if I wanted one of these I’d be pleased as punch to have a base model. I would probably spring for an aftermarket backup camera, though. I mean you genuinely cannot see doodly-squat to the rear without one. The stereo is mediocre, in part due to the fact that much of the sound just exits the vehicle... but it was super sweet to turn up the Big Tymers to up my Dad-game.

But the Slingshot is still a hoot, and the questionable value of the upgrades makes considering the base Sling’s price much easier to stomach. Ariel Atom? Vanderhall Venice? Not for 20 g. (But if I had to buy something in this category, not gonna lie — a Vanderhall has some strong appeal in spite of the greater price.)

Will you take me for a ride?

Sure. Get in and tell me when you want me to start doing stupid stuff. Hit that little traction control button there on the dash when you want to make it happen.

OK, but why not just get a Miata?

Why not buy a boat? Or a trombone? Why not buy a hundred Snickers bars? For starts, the Slingshot has a slightly better power-to-weight ratio than the Miata. (173 horsepower and 1,749 pounds for the Slingshot, and 181 horsepower and 2,339 pounds for the Mazda.) The base model Sling is also about seven grand cheaper than the base-model Miata. However, the problem with continuing to answer this question in this manner is that I’m providing rational answers to what is ultimately a question rooted very, very deeply in emotion.

Driving the two is different. (I actually owned a Miata for a short period of time, so I think I can speak to this knowledgeably.) Slingshot is much more open to the environment and, unlike a Miata, you’re sitting way low in the vehicle. It’s a lot like being in a yard kart in terms of how much air you’re surrounded by and how close to the pavement you are. The Sling feels generally rowdier… it wants to break loose in a corner where even a stock Miata would feel like it was on rails.

The ol’ Slingshot is far more willing to light up the rear because of the lone tire out back. Never mind the fact that the contact patch on that big 305/30R20 rear meat is enormous (in fact, that’s the same size as the tires found on the ass end of a Lambo Huracán), it may as well be a Rollerblade wheel back there. It spins up that easily. Which brings me to the next common question…

Is it a car or a motorcycle?

Who gives a shit? There is an ominous warning sticker in the cockpit that proudly proclaims it’s a motorcycle. But there is a steering wheel. The correct-est answer to this question for me has been “I don’t care.”

If you really pressed me, I’d tell you what it is. It’s unequivocally a car. It has a longitudinal engine, an automotive-style transmission, and this little odd-duck differential (Polaris calls it an “angle drive”) that allows the use of a motorcycle final drive.

Why? Well, that’s an easy answer. Autocycles or motorcycles or whatever the hell this thing qualifies as in your state probably have a much more lax set of standards to meet in terms of safety and emissions than a car does, and that’s definitely true federally. So that three-wheeled setup keeps Polaris from getting the stinkeye from The Man, but still allows them to put a ridiculous tube-chassis track car on the roads.

You three-pedal it, and leaning your body does basically nothing through a turn. So it’s a car. A really awesome car.

How did the fam like it?

Stinky was clearly wowed by it visually when he first saw it. We jumped in, and even after a mile of Fat Old Dad breaking the rear end loose, he was a giggle factory. I reminded him (again!) that he still had not taken Spurg up on his offer of a car swap. (Spurg’s old Mazda has a manual transmission and he was kind enough to offer it to Stinky to let him learn on it.) When he discovered that had he done that I would've let him drive the Slingshot, he replied, “Damn it!”

Mrs. Lem jumped in next and was terrified. She got about two miles down the road and hated it. She was very scared the whole time and told me 377 times in that two miles that the Slingshot was awful and dangerous. She literally said, "I made it" when she scrambled out of the tub as we pulled back into the driveway.

A few months later, Stink did get Spurgeon's old car, and spent a week going to work and school in it. He's not stupid. I believe he is now hoping Polaris updates this vehicle and sends us one posthaste.

Overall, I would call it a great success. 

Have you ever seen a Rupp Centaur?

Yeah. This Slingshot is really similar in that it’s just as useless and just as fun. The Rupp was closer to a motorcycle, this is closer to a car. Slingshot reminds me of a sandrail with body panels and a rear end that doesn’t listen.

Aren’t you cold?

Depends, I guess, on what your frame of reference is. Compared to a real vehicle with a roof and a headliner and heat, yeah, it’s pretty cold. Compared to a motorcycle? It’s great. Your legs are all shielded and the little flyscreen deflects a ton of wind. I tested this in the Northeast in November, and temps were typically in the 40s for my two-hour-or-so commutes. I layered up like I was going to work outside and I was fine. It’s maybe slightly uncomfortable, but not bad in the slightest.

One thought I’ve had is that this is a perfect vehicle for electric seat heaters. In an open-roof vehicle, conduction heat would work way better than the convection type of transfer a normal heater core would utilize, and I am sure the big alternator on this engine could power them with little difficulty.

The rain sucks. I mean really sucks. There’s no air flow, and a standard motorcycle helmet fogs really fast because (I think) there is no air flow coming in from the bottom. And the few times I laid my jacket in the passenger footwell, it got really warm, so my guess is that spot sucks for your friend in the summertime; she’ll never be cold in your Polaris.

Where’s them seat belts?

They’re reversed, because there is no real way to install them in the traditional manner. So if you jump into the passenger seat for a spin with your favorite fat whiny author, look to your left shoulder for the people-keeper.

Do you have to wear a helmet?

Not in Pennsylvania. Our unit was equipped with a windscreen, so that means one wouldn’t need eye-pro either. But you probably want it. It gets a little windy, and if it rains, your life sucks. (Did I mention that yet? Rain really blows in this thing. Did I tell you about all the spray the tires kick up that the fenders mostly — but not completely — keep at bay?) You may also want to consider the fact this vehicle has one normal three-point belt (no five-point harnesses) and two roll hoops… and that’s about it. If you roll this, tangle with another vehicle, or hit a heavy stationary object, at cruising velocity, I’d imagine you’d be in the hospital for a little bit.

But I must say, I don’t think it’s any more dangerous than a motorcycle. It drives and rides better than some of the death-trappy old cars and trucks I’ve had over the years, but it also gets out of hand really quickly, too. Pushing the rambunctious little Slingshot through a turn is really fun... until it's not. It's sorta like being at a mellow party where someone hands you an innocuous-looking pipe, and then you find out mid-hit you’ve just gotten a drag of PCP. Shit just gets out of control in a hurry.

Is it hard to drive?

No. Yes. It’s both. To physically operate it is quite easy; it is just like being in a roadster with a manual trans. Recalling my little boy’s response to this vehicle, I have scratched my head a few times as to why this only comes with a stick. It would seem there is probably a contingent of people who would find motorcycles “too hard” or too inconvenient, and an automatic Slingshot would offer a low barrier to entry, but what do I know? This is a major difference between a Vanderhall and this thing. Vanderhalls are either auto or manu-matic. I appreciate those transmission choices are probably more popular, practical, and ultimately more desirable. A stick is, in my mind, the only option for someone who truly enjoys operating a multi-speed vehicle, so the Slingshot stands out in the category for me.

It does get a bit twitchy at speed, and the thing is freakishly wide. Backing up is difficult, and so are lane changes because the rearward visibility is so poor. The steering is a lot like a race vehicle’s, because it has a very low ratio coupled with a relatively small wheel — you need to put a little muscle into it at low speed, and it’s verrrrry lively at highway speeds. This also requires lots of constant correction and recalibration in turns. None of this is bad, and if you don’t push the Slingshot, it is easy to drive, but if you want to flog it, you had better be a fairly skilled driver — and you better be comfortable with power-induced oversteer.

It’s also a three-track vehicle, meaning avoiding obstacles falls between difficult and impossible. You’re not going to avoid the roadkill, you’re simply going to pick the fender you want decorated with venison.

What’s the fuel mileage like?

Let's go do doughnuts! You ask some boring questions. When operated by an idiot, the Slingshot achieved 23.7 miles per gallon. I couldn’t operate it not like an idiot, so I assume it can do better, but have zero evidence to support that hypothesis.

Is it practical?

Yes and no. It can hold way more stuff than a motorcycle. I brought home a pile of riding gear for my son one night, far more than I could have on a bike. The next day, for lunch, I brought a pizza to work, still in its box. Short of a bike with a full top box, that’s not really possible on a motorcycle, and even then, not all top boxes can swallow a bacon stuffed crust. It’s also got pretty good wind protection, and even though rides in the cold stink, they are still way better than the equivalent on two wheels, in terms of wind protection.

But it’s impractical, too. I didn’t tuck the Slingshot into the shop, and I had to contend with iced seats. The interior can simply be rinsed out, as you would in a side-by-side. However, a few times, Stinky and I had to pull all the leaves out of it… hosing out the interior only helps with detritus small enough to fall through a drain hole.

If you’re buying this thing for practical reasons, you’d be better served by a Honda Fit. But that’s not the point, and we both know it.

Is it a one-trick pony?

Yep. It absolutely is. Here’s the thing: That one trick is so very, very good that the Slingshot holds its own. There are a few times every year, usually on a flat track or when it has snowed and I’m in one of the underpowered pickup trucks I own, where rear-wheel traction is compromised. Rather than pussyfooting my way through a change in direction in either scenario, I’ll slide the vehicle through a curve. Sometimes I overshoot and sometimes I undershoot, but occasionally I’ll execute the move perfectly and slide my way at high speed through a long, fast corner.

That moment, for motorists and motorcyclists alike, is usually one of complete joy. In that moment, you’ve taken the corner as fast as you know how in the vehicle you’ve been given, and for a brief moment in time, something clicks and everything is perfect. The Slingshot turns every turn into a winter day or a well-kept dirt track, allowing a driver more chances at executing that perfect slide nearly year-round, and I think downplaying that ability is to sell the Slingshot very short.

Some people will tire of the smoking tires after a few good long three-gear rear-wheel peels, and I completely understand. For those who are like me, forever chasing that ride on the line between control and chaos, the Slingshot will always have a certain appeal.