Super Cruise and Super Skepticism: Hands-Off Driving from Asheville to Lexington

Somewhere on I-75, in the hills between Asheville, NC and Lexington, KY, I did something I’ve never done before. I took my hands off the steering wheel at 70 mph and let a machine take over. This wasn’t a Google demo or a tech show stunt. It was a real-world family road trip in my wife’s Cadillac Lyriq, and I was testing GM’s Super Cruise system for the first time.

It’s marketed as a hands-free highway driver assistance system. Not “autonomous” in the sci-fi sense, but advanced enough to handle steering and lane changes on mapped roads. Still, giving up control, even temporarily, isn’t something most drivers do lightly.

And yeah, I was skeptical too.

Learning to Trust the Machine

I didn’t dive in right away. I eased into it.

At first, my hands were inches from the wheel. I was alert, borderline anxious, the same kind of alertness you get when driving through a snowstorm. Super Cruise activates on mapped highways, and a light bar on the steering wheel turns green when it’s in control. I tapped the button. The car took over steering, lane keeping, and spacing. And to my surprise, it worked.

It smoothly changed lanes to pass slower traffic, then tucked itself back over into the original lane. The car was surprisingly clear when it wanted to make a move, using subtle steering nudges paired with haptic pulses and lane-change arrows in the instrument cluster. Those cues worked well. The car was communicating quietly but deliberately.

There was still a learning curve. The steering wheel lights (blue for standby, green for active) became clear once I got used to them. But it took me a little time to understand where to look and what they signified.

And Super Cruise only works on pre-mapped highways. What’s mapped and what’s not? You don’t really know until you press the button, and it either activates or it doesn’t. That lack of upfront clarity was a minor frustration.

Eyes on the System

A few more details stood out the longer I used it.

Merging traffic on the right, especially from on ramps, made me tense. I often couldn’t tell if Super Cruise had “seen” the vehicle entering the highway. It never failed to adjust; it either changed lanes or slowed slightly, but it often felt like it was cutting it close. I let it do its thing, but I was always ready to jump in.

I also tested it in light traffic. It handled it well, but we always seemed to slow down, hovering behind vehicles instead of flowing naturally with traffic. It was competent but clearly cautious. And once the traffic got heavier, Super Cruise struggled. Lane changes were hesitant, following gaps were inconsistent, and I found it easier, and frankly more relaxing, to just take over.

A Second Opinion – Mike Roeth Joins the Club

It’s not just me feeling out this new world of semi-autonomy. Mike Roeth, NACFE’s executive director, recently got a taste of Super Cruise behind the wheel of a Chevy Blazer EV.

He needed a ride to Elkhart, IN, and his friend Dave Schaller, NACFE’s director of special projects, handed him the keys to the Blazer — more to test the system than anything else. Mike took the wheel, activated Super Cruise, and let it handle the driving. Mostly.

His biggest “moment?” A heavy-duty tractor-trailer coming at him on a slight curve along a 55 mph two-lane Indiana state highway.

“I stayed off the wheel,” Mike told me, “but my knuckles still turned a bit white as I was clenching my fists.”

That sums it up pretty well. The system worked. But even for a seasoned tech and freight leader, trust is earned slowly, one knuckle-clench at a time.

Watch Out for Green to Blue

Mike’s ride partner, Dave, shared another subtle but important takeaway for new users. As Super Cruise approaches an intersection or traffic light, it hands back control to the driver with a noticeable haptic buzz and a shift from green to blue on the steering wheel. That’s your cue: “Hey, you’re back in control.”

But here’s the catch. Adaptive cruise stays active. If you’re not paying close attention, the car will sail through the intersection at the preset speed. If that light turns yellow, you’d better act fast.

It’s not a bug. It’s how the system is designed. But it’s a reminder that even advanced systems have blind spots, and human attention isn’t optional.

So, Who’s This For?

I keep coming back to this question: Who is Super Cruise really designed for? It’s not just a gimmick. It’s genuinely useful in certain conditions. On long, steady stretches of highway, it helps reduce fatigue and allows your shoulders to relax a bit. But as soon as traffic gets complicated with construction zones, merging lanes, or unpredictable drivers, the system disengages, and it’s all on you again.

That makes it useful, but not transformative. Not yet.

And maybe that’s okay. Perhaps this is what the early days of semi-autonomy look like — little trust-building exercises. One lane change at a time.

I also wonder whether trust in these systems splits along generational lines. I eventually became comfortable, but my wife didn’t. When it comes to mass-market adoption, she might be more representative than I am.

Charging: The Other Kind of Anxiety

The other half of the story is electric. The Lyriq is an EV, and like many road-trippers in 2025, I spent more time than I’d like to admit thinking about charging — where to do it, how long it would take, and whether it would even work.

GM now allows Lyriq drivers to access Tesla Superchargers — a significant step forward — and I had the adapter with me, which helped. However, even with this expanded access, I still had to plan two separate early-morning detours to top off the battery. These weren’t quick five-minute gas-and-go stops but rather 30 to 40 minutes of sitting in the car, watching the kW slowly trickle in, and hoping nothing went wrong.

It’s a new paradigm, and honestly, it’s not for everyone.

People are used to pulling off at any exit to find gas. The average driver never wonders, “How far can I go?” or “Where’s the next station?” Gas stations just exist. They’re everywhere. The refueling process is muscle memory — swipe the card, five minutes of fueling, back on the road.

With EVs, especially on longer trips, you need to plan in advance. That includes backup options, checking app reviews, verifying the charger type, and ensuring it’s not already occupied or out of service.

There’s range anxiety, sure. But even more frustrating is charger trust anxiety — the uneasy feeling that you’re about to waste 20 minutes pulling up to a station that might not work or might require a new app login you’ve never seen before.

This is the next major obstacle for EV adoption — and by extension, autonomy. If we want drivers to trust EVs and semi-autonomous systems like Super Cruise, we also need to ensure smooth, stress-free infrastructure to support them. That means chargers that are:

• Easy to find
• Always operational
• Conveniently located (not behind a warehouse at the edge of town)
• And ideally near coffee or a clean bathroom.

Until that’s the norm, EVs and AVs alike will feel like they’re still in beta testing for the average consumer.

The Verdict: Glimpses, Not Miracles

Super Cruise isn’t the future. It’s a glimpse of what the future might become — if we keep pushing, refining, and earning driver trust along the way.

For now, it’s a reliable co-pilot on open highways. Not quite suited for busy traffic. Not something you’d trust blindly, and definitely not something that’ll convince a skeptical spouse on a vacation road trip.

But it’s more than a gimmick. GM isn’t trying to sell “Full Self-Driving.” It’s selling advanced assistance, and honestly, that might be the smarter long-term approach.

As for me? I’ll keep using Super Cruise. I’ll keep learning its quirks. And I’ll keep hoping that, someday soon, finding a working charger won’t feel like trying to guess the winning lottery numbers.

Just don’t expect me to take my hands off the wheel when my wife is in the passenger seat.