Ah yes, the humble golf cart — humanity’s answer to the burning question: “What if I wanted to feel like a suburban retiree everywhere I go?” Welcome to the age of the electric low-speed vehicle, or as the government calls them with the sex appeal of a wet sock: LSVs. They top out at 25 mph, boast all the aerodynamic grace of a Tupperware container, and — according to one very earnest Washington Post columnist — they might just save the planet.
Picture it: You, your lukewarm Starbucks, and your dreams of personal climate redemption — all bouncing down Main Street in a doorless shoebox on wheels. Because nothing says “transportation revolution” quite like a high-tech version of what your uncle drives to tee time.
From Country Club to Climate Crusader
Let’s begin where all great revolutions do: in the gated communities of Florida.
Once the exclusive domain of retirement villages with names like “Sunset Palms” or “Last Stop Estates,” the modern minicar is now aggressively rebranding itself as the eco-conscious, urban Millennial’s wet dream. It’s a golf cart, sure — but with Bluetooth. And maybe heated seats, if you’re one of the brave few planning to freeze your kneecaps off in Chicago traffic during winter.
Columnist Michael J. Coren took one for the team by test-driving these rolling IKEA drawers in California. His key takeaway? “The touch screen flashes to life” and “disco lights illuminate the speakers.” Because nothing says safety first like rave lighting inside a 1,200-lb vehicle that can’t survive a kiss from a Ford F-150.
To be fair, these aren’t just golf carts anymore. Oh no. They’re “neighborhood electric vehicles” — or NEVs, which sound like a startup trying to disrupt patio furniture. The federal government even created an entire new car category for them in 1998, the same year we thought AOL Instant Messenger would last forever. Bold.
The Regulatory Dance of the Tiny Car
Under current U.S. law, your stylish mini-buggy has to hit at least 20 mph and cannot exceed 25 mph. That’s not just a suggestion; it’s a lifestyle. These vehicles are only allowed on roads with speed limits of 35 mph or lower — perfect for neighborhoods, college campuses, and anywhere your HOA still thinks the internet is a passing fad.
Safety requirements include seat belts, mirrors, turn signals, and the vague hope that no one rear-ends you with an Escalade. But don’t worry, advocates are quick to remind us that they’re safer than a golf cart — which is like saying a butter knife is safer than a chainsaw. Technically true. Practically unhelpful.
Of course, aftermarket rebels can “tweak” these things to hit a blazing 35 mph — you outlaw, you. But doing so would put you at odds with federal law, your local DMV, and probably your life insurance policy.
Meet the Future: It Has No Doors
A new wave of LSV designs is reportedly “about to hit the market,” including one from Also — a secretive Rivian spin-off determined to prove that Silicon Valley still has the juice to make even cars unnecessarily complicated.
Their approach? A shared tech platform so all their vehicles can use the same battery architecture, screens, antennas, and, one assumes, personality disorders. Their first product will roll out on two wheels in 2026, because nothing helps mainstream four-wheeled transport like releasing a motorcycle first.
Also’s President Chris Yu insists there's “a pent-up demand for something better than a car.” We agree — we just didn’t think the solution would be a tricycle with Wi-Fi.
America’s Big Car Problem, in Miniature
Here’s the inconvenient truth: Americans love big cars. We caress our trucks. We name our SUVs. We wear Patagonia jackets in 80-degree heat just to look like we might one day use 4-wheel drive. So getting the average Ford F-150 devotee to swap horsepower for horse play is going to take more than disco lights and a cute horn.
Still, advocates argue that LSVs make perfect sense. After all, 80% of daily U.S. trips are under 10 miles. That’s right — we’re mostly going to the gym (but not really), picking up dry cleaning (because we still pretend to care about collars), or cruising to Whole Foods to buy $14 granola. Why not do all that in a glorified golf cart?
Well, for one thing: weather. Most of these things are open-air, meaning your ride to the office may double as a baptism if the forecast turns sour. And yes, some models come with optional doors or heat, but now you’re pushing the cost to $15,000 or more — which is more than a used Honda Civic that can, you know, survive a collision.
“It’s Not a Toy,” He Cried From His Electric Toaster
Michael Coren insists these things are not toys. And sure, when you squint past the fact that they look like something your nephew would crash at a birthday party, they do offer real advantages.
They’re quiet, clean, and cost almost nothing to “fuel.” A lithium-ion battery gives you a decent 35-mile range. That’s plenty for daily errands, unless your job involves being chased across state lines by federal agents.
Some cities are trying to make LSVs happen. Long Beach, Charleston, and even Richmond, Texas are exploring new infrastructure, which means bike lanes might soon be sharing space with rolling Fisher-Price units. Hooray?
Europe, Asia, and the Cult of Small Cars
In case you didn’t know, Europe and Asia are way ahead on this trend. Japan has “kei” cars that are tiny, cheap, and wildly popular. China is practically handing out $2,000 minicars like they’re electric candy. In France, “quadricycles” zip through city streets without needing a driver’s license. Meanwhile, in America, we’re still asking, “Can it tow a boat though?”
The cultural gap is real. Americans don’t just drive big cars — we build our entire identities around them. Take away someone’s Dodge RAM and you might as well be taking their last name. Good luck convincing a Texan that an open-air electric bean can is a better way to haul mulch.
Can You Actually Buy One? You Bet Your Bucket Seat
Despite all this, the market is quietly blooming. Models like the GEM, the Mark (solar optional!), and the Evolution D5 are now available. There are even pedal-hybrid monstrosities like the ELF and Veemo — which combine the worst parts of biking and driving into a single existential crisis.
Pro tip: If your vehicle has a crankshaft and handlebars, it’s not innovation — it’s punishment.
There are more LSVs arriving in 2026 and beyond, with designs straight out of an Apple product launch — all curves, screens, and a smug sense of superiority. And while some buyers are eco-warriors or hipster parents in tech hubs, others are just bored retirees who want to get to pickleball without backing the Buick out of the garage.
So, Should You Buy One?
Let’s run the checklist:
-
You live in a city with 35-mph zones.
-
You don’t need to haul anything bigger than a Yorkie.
-
You’ve always wanted to cosplay as a mail carrier.
-
You enjoy people yelling “Nice golf cart, bro” as you drive by.
If you checked all the boxes, congratulations. You’re an LSV driver.
Just be warned: Local laws vary wildly. What’s legal in California might be totally banned in Kentucky. Some dealers fib about what qualifies as “street-legal.” Don’t be that person explaining to a cop that “it has seat belts” while being towed off the shoulder.
A Green Future — in First Gear
Despite all this ridicule — and yes, we’ve earned every drop of it — the idea behind minicars isn’t stupid. In fact, it might be one of the few sane approaches to an insane problem.
We’ve overbuilt our cities for cars, underinvested in transit, and filled our roads with rolling tanks that are great at everything except being efficient. Minicars could reduce emissions, ease congestion, and make streets feel less like Mad Max and more like Sesame Street. That’s a win — even if you look slightly ridiculous doing it.
Besides, we’ve already embraced e-bikes, scooters, hoverboards, and those weird one-wheeled death traps. So what’s one more step toward becoming the Jetsons?
Final Thoughts From the Passenger Seat
Minicars might not be the sexy future we dreamed of — there are no gull-wing doors, no self-driving chips, no AI chauffeurs offering you kombucha. But maybe that’s okay.
Maybe we don’t need sexy. Maybe we need practical. Maybe we need tiny. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to admit that we don’t need a 7-seater, gas-guzzling land yacht to buy almond milk.
Or maybe we just like being a little ridiculous. After all, isn’t that what being human is all about?
TL;DR: If you can embrace the aesthetic of a toaster on wheels and don’t mind the occasional squirrel outrunning you, the LSV might just be your next ride. Just don’t expect to win any drag races… unless it’s against a Roomba.