How 9,000 Pounds of Electric Excess Won Me Over in 5 Days

What Kind of Monster Chooses This Car?

That was my first thought when GM dropped off the 2026 Cadillac Escalade IQL at my house. At 9,000 pounds and starting at $130,405, this electric monument to excess made our regular cars look like toys. At 228.5 inches long and 94.1 inches wide, it was larger than my first San Francisco apartment.

Trying to navigate it up my driveway was genuinely harrowing—the hood sits so high that on any inclined road, you literally cannot see what's directly ahead. My immediate plan was to leave it parked for the entire week-long loan period.

Five days later, I discovered what kind of monster chooses this car: apparently, me.

Digital Maximalism Meets Automotive Restraint

Step inside and you're greeted by what can only be described as a situation room on wheels. The dashboard opens with a 55-inch curved LED screen boasting 8K resolution. Front passengers get their own screens, while second-row passengers enjoy 12.6-inch personal displays, stowable tray tables, dual wireless chargers, and—in the most lavish trim—massage seats.

The polarized screen technology deserves special mention: while my kid binge-watched Hulu in the passenger seat, not a single frame leaked into my sightline. The 38-speaker AKG Studio sound system transforms the cabin into a concert hall.

Space is genuinely abundant. Front legroom stretches to 45.2 inches, second row offers 41.3 inches, and even the third row manages 32.3 inches. Seven adults could coexist here for hours without friction.

When 4 Tons Feels Nimble

Despite its battleship proportions, the Escalade IQL moves with surprising grace. Not "sports car darting through traffic" nimble, but "I can't believe something this colossal doesn't handle like a barge" nimble.

The real test came during a 200-mile drive to Lake Tahoe through a brutal snowstorm. Here, the Escalade's mass became an asset rather than a liability. The weight provided stability while the electric drivetrain delivered instant torque when needed.

GM's Super Cruise hands-free system came standard, though I never quite mastered it. The car seemed to drift alarmingly between lane boundaries, triggering an escalating sequence of warnings—red steering wheel icons, haptic seat pulses, and finally audio chimes that GM diplomatically calls "driver takeover requests."

The Charging Reality Check

But then came the harsh awakening: charging an electric behemoth in winter. The 205 kWh battery pack is enormous by necessity—this machine burns through roughly 45 kWh per 100 miles, considerably more than comparable electric SUVs. Cadillac estimates 460 miles of range under ideal conditions, but Tahoe in winter is far from ideal.

We arrived with less charge than planned after several detours. The Tesla Supercharger in Tahoe City that appeared in the MyCadillac app simply refused to connect. A nearby EVGo had shuttered a month prior. ChargePoint's two units were respectively broken and willing to connect but not actually charge.

We finally found salvation at an Electrify America station 12 miles away, arriving at 11 PM through gathering snow. We sat there for an hour fighting exhaustion before the battery had enough juice for the return trip.

The next morning brought another reality check: tire pressure had dropped significantly overnight, requiring a gas station stop where my husband stood in driving ice to refill the tires.

The Luxury EV Paradox

The Escalade IQL embodies a fundamental tension in luxury electric vehicles. On one hand, it delivers an undeniably premium experience—the massage seats, the cinematic sound system, the spacious cabin that makes long journeys genuinely pleasant. The exterior lighting "choreography" that greets you upon approach feels like having a personal valet.

On the other hand, it highlights every weakness in America's charging infrastructure. While Tesla owners enjoy a relatively seamless charging experience, non-Tesla EVs—especially power-hungry ones—face a patchwork of incompatible networks, broken chargers, and software that feels clunky by comparison.

The Transformation

Somewhere between the initial revulsion and the final reluctant return, something shifted. Maybe it was the way the Escalade handled that snowstorm with unflappable confidence. Maybe it was the realization that seven people could travel in genuine comfort for hundreds of miles. Or maybe it was simply the seductive power of having more—more space, more screens, more speakers, more presence.

The car's exterior lighting show, which initially seemed absurdly over-the-top, began to feel like a friendly greeting. The imposing grille that once looked comically aggressive started to seem appropriately commanding. Even the challenging entry height became part of the ritual—ascending to your mobile throne.