You can now (officially) own the world's first (actual) flying car
Here's one for the history books. This week at the Geneva International Auto Show, the mad scientists at Dutch firm PAL-V unveiled their latest vehicle, a relatively ordinary occurrence for an automaker at an auto show...except for the fact this one actually flies.
Yes that's right. After watching everybody from The Jetsons to Marty McFly buzz around Futuropolis for decades, humanity has turned its longest-running sci-fi fantasy into a real-life commodity.
One part Prius, one part Apache, the PAL-V seats two, has a top-speed of 100 mph by ground and 112 mph by air, and boasts a maximum altitude of 11,000 feet. It can travel up to 350 miles on a single tank of gas and comes with gratis flight training lessons, so you don't end going all Sully on your first trip to the grocery store. As is the case with any ridiculously superfluous new technology designed almost exclusively for the uber-wealthy, however, the PAL-V also comes with a few caveats.
A. It takes about ten minutes to convert the vehicle to and from flight mode, which can only be done manually. If you thought scraping your windshield off in the dead of February was bad, maybe the PAL-V isn't for you.
B. It comes in two pricing options: The "Sport", which clocks in at a cool $399,000, and the "Pioneer", which will lighten your load to the tune of $599,000. Power heating is not standard on the Sport edition, because apparently this FLYING FREAKING CAR exists in alternate reality where it's still 1932.
C. Production is not expected to begin until 2019 and if the FAA still has a problem with drones, well, just imagine trying to get this licensed in time for soccer practice. Oh, and we did mention a $10,000 non-refundable deposit is required just to get on the waiting list, because yeah there's one of those too.
Sacrifices aside, however, a flying car is a flying car, and awhile this one may not look quite as sexy as Doc Brown's DeLorean, look on the bright side: At least it won't blast you back to a decade where Leave it To Beaver is considered hard-hitting entertainment and your mom is trying to neck with you before the Enchantment Under the Sea dance all because you decided to pass some sentient pocket protector in a Volvo while running late for work for the third time this week.