CVT

This Article Roasts the Continuously Variable Transmission — the wet paper towel of drivetrains. The gearbox that thought "What if we removed all the joy from driving and replaced it with the sound of a dying blender on loop?"

Let’s talk about CVT, the "engineer’s solution" to a problem no enthusiast ever asked for. This is the transmission that said,

“You know how people love the feel of a solid gear shift and acceleration that actually feels like something? Yeah, let’s not.”

Instead, CVT gave us:

• Endless drone noises, like you’re driving a vacuum cleaner that just watched its family get murdered
• Elastic band acceleration, where you press the gas and the car goes “hmm... I’ll think about it”
• No gears — and somehow, all the boredom

CVT is the embodiment of corporate efficiency — soulless, sluggish, and surgically designed to make driving feel like a PowerPoint presentation.

Want to pass someone on the highway? CVT says:

"Let’s simulate the experience of walking up an escalator that’s going down. Slowly."

Oh, and reliability? You’re lucky if your CVT lasts longer than your last relationship. Metal belts grinding against cones until the whole thing decides to yeet itself into limp mode.

Every time you drive a CVT, a manual gearbox cries in the corner and a dual-clutch snickers with superiority.

CVT doesn't shift — it slides. Like a snail on NyQuil. It’s the gearbox equivalent of tofu: technically functional, but only tolerable if you pretend it’s something better.

So here’s to CVT:

May you one day realize that being "infinitely variable" just means you're infinitely forgettable.