Lucid rolled out the Gravity X concept at Monterey Car Week, a showpiece that takes the company’s three-row Gravity SUV and dresses it up for real adventure rather than morning coffee runs. Built off the Gravity Grand Touring platform, the concept leans on the same impressive hardware — a claimed 828 horsepower and the sort of long-range figures that get headline attention — all highlighted on Lucid’s Monterey display. For Americans who still believe in engineering that pushes boundaries, seeing an electric vehicle aimed at trails as well as freeways is undeniably attention-grabbing.
But the Gravity X isn’t just a marketing sketch; Lucid clearly reworked the chassis and exterior with purpose — wider track, raised ride height, 21/22-inch all-terrain rubber, protective skid plates, exposed tow hooks and a modular roof system with cargo and light-mounting ability. Inside and out the concept favors function: orange accents to cut through the monotony of beige showrooms, a microsuede steering wheel, and even topographical etchings that pay tribute to Big Sur and Death Valley, signaling this isn’t meant only for valet parking at exclusive events. It’s refreshing to see a company mix luxury with grit instead of asking buyers to choose one or the other.
Lucid and reviewers have been loud about the Gravity’s family-friendly credentials — three rows, room for seven, and the sort of range figures that make cross-country trips plausible — while still promising sports-car acceleration when you need it. That blend of practicality and performance is exactly the kind of American engineering that ought to excite consumers, not bureaucrats or Silicon Valley tastemakers. If the Gravity X or a similar rugged trim ever reaches production, it could offer suburban families the capability to tow, camp, and commute without bending to one-size-fits-all assumptions about what an EV must be.
Let’s be honest: too much of the EV conversation is about virtue signaling and PR theater — Pebble Beach glamour over Main Street grit — and conservatives are right to demand that technology serve real needs, not just status. We should cheer innovation, but also insist on transparency, affordability, and durability, not glossy concepts that stay on a lawn while actual buyers wrestle with charging, repairability, and real-world costs. America doesn’t need another electorally fashionable gadget; it needs vehicles that respect working families who actually go off the beaten path.
All that said, reality tempers the romance. Lucid has faced the familiar startup headwinds — supply-chain headaches, delivery ramps and skeptical headlines about sales — and the company’s path from Pebble Beach concept to affordable, trail-ready production model is far from guaranteed. Reporters have pointed out conflicting data and production constraints, and Lucid itself has acknowledged the work ahead to scale Gravity deliveries while ironing out parts shortages and logistics. Buyers should admire the ambition but demand the follow-through.
In the end, the Gravity X should be judged like any other promise of American industry: by whether it makes life better for real people, not just impresses the usual suspects on the concourse lawn. If Lucid can translate this concept into a rugged, reliable, and reasonably priced trim, it will have earned praise from conservatives and free-market patriots alike. Until then, we applaud the engineering bravado, remain skeptical of hype, and hope more automakers remember that innovation must serve families, freedom, and the open road — not just glossy headlines.
