2025 Polaris Slingshot Review: First Ride

I picked up the keys (and by “keys,” I mean a small fob and a big grin) to Polaris’ Slingshot 10th Anniversary Edition and immediately remembered why this three‑wheeled wedge has been around for a decade. This street legal thrill machine makes every drive feel like a parade lap. The Slingshot isn’t a car in the traditional sense, and funnily enough, it isn’t a motorcycle either. Well, what the heck is it?

Like I said, it’s a street‑legal toy, but it goes fast, and it makes you feel good. And, after a week of sunrise drives, coffee runs, and one long detour I blamed on “testing,” here’s what this special‑edition Polaris Slingshot is really like to look at, sit in, and drive down your favorite road.

Design: Anniversary Looks, Everyday Theater

From half a block away, the 10th Anniversary Edition of the Slingshot looks like it escaped a concept‑car stage. The Radiant Red Pearl paint of my test vehicle shimmers from cranberry to candy apple depending on the light, while ghosted anniversary graphics hide in plain sight until you catch them at an angle. Polaris contrasts the red with black metallic trim and crisp white/teal accents, then finishes the stance with gloss‑black honeycomb wheels—18 inches up front, and the single 20 out back—that tuck neatly under those origami fenders. Nothing else in traffic has this silhouette. Park next to supercars and the Slingshot gets some pretty good stares too.

Climb‑in theatre starts with the step‑over—low panels, no roof—and a drop into a cockpit that makes you feel like you are getting into a track-bred sports car. The seating position is very low, legs can be stretched forward even for tall people, the wheel close to your chest, and the three pedals (yes, I had the manual obviously) naturally aligned so you’re not splaying your hips. The color‑keyed steering wheel and instruments tie the exterior to the interior, and the stitched sport seats strike a nice balance between cushy and grippy. My tester had heated and ventilated seats, a small luxury that extends the open‑air season when mornings are chilly or afternoons are blazing, but then this is the 10th anniversary edition, so plenty of goodies.

Storage is limited, so don’t think about packing for long road trips, unless you pack light. There’s a glovebox and a pair of lockable bins behind the seats—enough for a couple of backpacks, jackets, and a camera. Fit and finish felt tight, and the panels lined up, switches had a positive click, and nothing buzzed or rattled even on pockmarked pavement.

Driving at night adds its own show because you get XKGlow interior lighting that lets you dial in an aura that ranges from subtle to arcade, and the Rockford Fosgate Stage 3 Max audio punches well above its size, important when the wind wants to steal your favorite song at 55 mph. As for weather management, think convertible, not coupe. The windscreen deflects the brunt, but you still feel air swirl around your helmet (yes, you should wear one). For many, including myself, it;s the exposure to the elements that is part of the charm—you’re in the scene, not watching it through glass, and it’s awesome!

The Numbers That Matter

Jared Solomon / Valnet

Under the angular bodywork sits Polaris’ ProStar 2.0‑liter inline‑four, sending power through either a 5‑speed manual (my choice) or AutoDrive to the single belt‑driven rear wheel. The engine’s character is eager rather than brutish; it spins freely and encourages you to use the top half of the tach. The engine is good for 204 hp, which is plenty of fun.

The 10th anniversary edition also gets larger brakes and tires. Braking feel is strong and intuitive, with a firm pedal and reassuring bite from those larger front rotors. Steering is quick without being darty, and the chassis communicates through the seat of your pants—subtle wiggles, gentle weight transfer—so you always know what the rear tire is up to. And, if you know what you are doing, you can easily spin that sucker out and find yourself going sideways. It’s really fun to stick the rear out on the Slingshot, but it always feels under control and tame, not wild. Stability and traction systems stand guard without scolding; they’re there to catch you if enthusiasm outruns talent. And, trust me, you will love driving the Slingshot every time you strap yourself in. It only weighs 1,640 lbs, so it really feels nimble.

On the legal side of things, in many states, the Slingshot is classified as an autocycle. It’s basically that strange middle ground between car and motorcycle—so licensing and helmet rules vary.

Polaris Slingshot 10th Anniversary Edition Specs

Road Manners & Real Life: Always Fun

Polaris

The first full‑throttle run surprised me less with sheer violence and more with how immediate everything feels. With so little mass to move, the Slingshot leaps into gaps, and the manual gearbox adds a tactile rhythm—clutch, shift, grin—that modern paddle systems rarely replicate. First, second, and third are where the magic happens; the engine wakes up above 4,000 rpm and pulls cleanly to its 7,500‑rpm power peak, accompanied by a raspy intake note that sounds like a sports bike doing its best impression of a roadster.

Cornering is where the Slingshot makes its case. The wide front track plants the nose; you point, it pivots, and the single rear tire follows with a hint of drama. Feed in throttle mid‑corner, and you can feel the rear gently rotate—more “guided slide” than “snap oversteer”—while the electronics quietly keep things tidy. It’s entertaining at sane speeds, which is the whole idea: you don’t need to be doubling the limit to have a great time. Ride quality is better than you’d expect for something this low and this open. You’ll feel small ripples, but it doesn’t crash over broken pavement. The ground clearance is lwo but enough for steep driveways, and the chassis never felt fragile. After a two hour stint on Central Florida’s roads, I climbed out relaxed, not shaken.

Jared Solomon / Valnet

Tech plays a supporting role. Ride Command with Apple CarPlay handles maps and music, and the interface is straightforward, and the screen remains legible in sunlight. It’s the standard Polaris setup. There’s no traditional climate system beyond vents and seat heating/cooling, which is fine because the moving air is your A/C. Two drive modes let you toggle the Slingshot’s attitude—one more chill for cruising, one that sharpens responses when the road opens up.

Now for the part no spec sheet captures: owning and living with it.

Expect fuel stops to take twice as long because people will ask questions. Kids point. Motorcyclists give nods. At one gas station a guy in a lifted pickup asked if it was electric, then immediately requested a selfie. The Slingshot turns every drive into social events, and if you’re shy, you’ll either come out of your shell or start wearing big sunglasses.

Practicality is “weekend‑capable.” You can pack for a day trip, maybe an overnighter if you’re minimalist. Rain happens, so keep gear and a plan B in your head. Insurance and registration are typically different from a car, sometimes easier than a motorcycle—again, it depends where you live. Running costs look friendly as well. It’s a small engine, modest tires, and simple components.

What you’re buying here is a grown man’s toy. At 45 mph with no roof, it feels like 70 in a coupe. At 70 on a clear highway, you’re engaged, not isolated, and that’s the Slingshot’s superpower. It delivers the sense of occasion you chase in six‑figure exotics, for a price that lives on the same planet as normal people. And this 10th Anniversary Edition amplifies the occasion without messing with the core recipe of having fun when you drive it.

Three Wheels, One Big Personality

If you measure machines by cargo volume, door count, or decibel isolation, look elsewhere. If you measure them by how often they make you laugh inside your helmet, the Slingshot 10th Anniversary Edition is a bullseye. It’s the rare vehicle that makes a Tuesday feel like a special event, and that is why I didn’t want to give the keys back.