Back in February 2025, when the Jakarta governor announced the new citywide odd-even license plate regulation starting 5 January 2026, I'll admit—I cursed. A lot. Here I was, a pilot who'd worked my way up from a cramped boarding house in Bandung to flying Boeing 737s, and now some bureaucrat was telling me I couldn't drive my own car half the week during rush hours?

The official line was all about reducing congestion and pollution, encouraging public transportation use. Noble goals, sure. But let's be real—this felt like a conspiracy between the government and car manufacturers to force people like me to buy a second vehicle. And judging by the conversations on TV and social media, I wasn't alone in thinking this.

My Toyota Agya GR Sport had been perfect for my needs. Fuel-efficient, nimble in Jakarta's chaotic traffic, and that yellow color always made me smile when I walked to the parking lot after a long flight. But it ran on petrol, which meant it was now subject to the odd-even rule. I could already imagine myself stuck on a TransJakarta bus, pressed against strangers during my commute to early morning flights. No thanks.

The Reluctant Convert

I'll be honest—I was never an EV believer. Growing up watching planes, I'd developed a healthy respect for the engineering behind combustion engines. Electric vehicles seemed like expensive toys for the environmentally conscious wealthy. Plus, range anxiety was real. What if I got stuck somewhere with a dead battery?

But the odd-even rule exempted EVs, and that exemption was too practical to ignore.

I started browsing options in August 2025, asking fellow pilots and friends for recommendations. My budget was firm: 200 million rupiah maximum. I wasn't planning to keep this EV forever—maybe five years, tops—so why spend more? Another factor that made EVs more appealing was the recent installation of charging stations at my apartment complex in Kalideres. The stars were aligning, even if I was still skeptical.

The more I researched, the more the economics started making sense. Running costs would be minimal—electricity is far cheaper than petrol, especially with Jakarta's fuel prices. Maintenance would be simpler too. No oil changes, no complex engine servicing, fewer moving parts to break down. As someone who grew up in a rice-farming family where every rupiah counted, these advantages spoke to my practical side.

Still, I had my doubts. I'd heard horror stories about EVs losing significant range in Jakarta's heat and traffic. Some pilots at TIA had mentioned charging infrastructure being unreliable outside major cities. And then there was the resale value question—would anyone want to buy a used EV with a degraded battery in five years?

But every time I thought about taking a crowded TransJakarta bus at 4:30 AM for an early flight, my resolve strengthened. I needed a solution, and an affordable EV seemed like the least painful option.

The Shopping Process

My shortlist included the Wuling Air EV, DFSK Seres E1, BYD Atto 1, and VinFast VF 3.

The Seres E1 was the first to go. DFSK was having financial difficulties in Indonesia, and as someone who grew up watching her father struggle with rice harvests, I know better than to bet on unstable companies. What happens to parts and service if they pull out of Indonesia? I'd seen some friends get burned by brands that disappeared from the market, leaving them with cars they couldn't maintain. Not worth the risk, no matter how good the price seemed.

The Air EV was tempting—affordable, popular, practical. But when I saw it in person, it looked... too girly? Too cutesy? And honestly, it felt cramped. I'm 175 cm tall, not exactly petite by Indonesian standards, and I could already feel my knees complaining. I sat in the driver's seat for maybe five minutes before I knew it wasn't for me. The headroom was okay, but the legroom felt tight, and the overall interior space made me feel like I was sitting in a toy car. Plus, everywhere I looked in Jakarta, I saw Air EVs. I wanted something a bit more distinctive.

The cargo space was another issue. As a pilot, I sometimes need to transport my flight bag, camera equipment, and personal items. The Air EV's trunk looked like it could barely fit a week's worth of groceries. Sure, it was cheap and practical for short city commutes, but I needed something with a bit more versatility.

The BYD Atto 1 was a strong contender. Good range, solid reputation, reasonable price. I was seriously considering it until I saw the news about a BYD car catching fire. Now, as a pilot, I know statistics—one incident doesn't represent the whole fleet. We understand risk assessment better than most. But something about it just unsettled me. Maybe it was the pilot in me being overcautious, but I couldn't shake the feeling.

The thing is, when you fly for a living, you develop a particular relationship with risk. We're trained to think probabilistically, to assess threats and mitigate them. A single fire incident shouldn't have mattered—statistically, BYD's safety record is actually quite good. But I kept imagining scenarios: what if it happened in my apartment's basement parking? What if I was stuck in Jakarta's notorious traffic when the battery decided to have issues?

I talked to a few fellow pilots about it. One of them, a senior captain who drives a BYD, laughed at my concerns and showed me all the safety certifications. He had a point. But another friend, a flight engineer, sided with me. "Look," he said, "in aviation, we have redundancies for redundancies. Why take even a small risk with something you park in your home every day?"

That sealed it for me. Fair or not, the BYD was off my list.

That left the VinFast VF 3.

The Test Drive

The first time I saw the VF 3 on the internet, it reminded me immediately of a Suzuki Jimny—that boxy, rugged design that somehow manages to look both tough and adorable. I'd always wanted a Jimny, but couldn't justify spending that much money on a Suzuki. The VF 3 had a similar vibe at a fraction of the cost.

The dealership salesperson, a young guy named Andi, was enthusiastic but not pushy. He knew I was a pilot—I'd mentioned it when scheduling the test drive—and he'd clearly done his homework, talking about the car's efficiency metrics and engineering specs in a way that showed he understood I wanted data, not just marketing fluff.

During the test drive, I approached it like I approach new aircraft—methodically noting every characteristic. The throttle response was immediate, almost eager. Touch the accelerator and the car just goes, no hesitation, no lag. It's addictive, honestly. That instant torque makes merging and overtaking so much easier than with my Agya.

The braking felt solid and confidence-inspiring. I tested it hard a few times—emergency stops, gentle applications, braking while turning. Progressive, predictable, reassuring. Below 100 km/h, the car felt planted, stable. The steering was precise, responsive—it almost read my mind, like a well-trimmed aircraft in cruise flight. Point it where you want to go, and it goes there. No drama, no surprises.

But I also noticed the shortcomings. The suspension was firm—too firm, really. Every bump telegraphed itself directly to my seat. Jakarta's roads are terrible, and I could already imagine how exhausting this would be on my daily commute. Andi assured me I'd get used to it, that the firm suspension helped with handling. Maybe, but my lower back wasn't convinced.

The cabin materials were aggressively minimalist, with black plastic dominating the dashboard. It felt functional but cheap, like the difference between flying a full-service carrier and a budget airline. Everything works, but there's no pretense of luxury.

I tested the infotainment system, and it lagged noticeably. Three seconds to respond to a tap. Another two seconds to load the menu. In 2025, that's unacceptable. The speakers sounded tinny when I played some music through Bluetooth—flat, lacking any bass or depth. I made a mental note: I'd be using my phone for entertainment.

The AC was next. I cranked it to maximum, and after five minutes of driving in Jakarta's afternoon heat, I was still sweating. Not great. Andi mentioned something about tropical climate optimization, but that felt like corporate-speak for "the AC isn't powerful enough." I'd need a solution for this.

The salesperson was eager to gloss over these issues, but I pressed them about panel gaps I'd noticed around the doors and hood. They assured me it was within tolerance. Spoiler alert: it wasn't perfect, but more on that later.

What impressed me, though, was the visibility. Big windows, thin A-pillars, good sightlines all around. For navigating Jakarta's chaotic traffic and tight parking spots, this was crucial. I could see everything, which meant fewer surprises from motorcycles and pedestrians appearing out of nowhere.

The size felt just right, too. Not cramped like the Air EV, but not unwieldy in tight spaces. I imagined parallel parking it near my apartment, squeezing into the compact spots at the airport crew parking, navigating the narrow lanes of my parents' village in Ciguguk. The VF 3 could handle all of that.

The Decision

Despite the flaws, I decided to buy the VF 3. Why?

First, the looks. That boxy, Jimny-inspired design just spoke to me. In a sea of bland egg-shaped EVs, this thing had personality. It looked tough, capable, distinctive—like a little off-roader that happened to be electric. Every time I walked around it at the dealership, I smiled. That had to count for something. While VinFast presents the VF 3 as an SUV in its design and description, registration documents classify it as a hatchback city car.

Second, the size was perfect. Not too small like the Air EV, not too big for Jakarta's tight parking spots and chaotic traffic. Just right, like Goldilocks finding the perfect bed. I could imagine weaving through traffic, fitting into spaces that would make my Agya struggle.

Third, the range was acceptable for city driving and my commute to the airport. The official figure was around 210 km on a full charge, but real-world range would be less. Still, my daily commute from Kalideres to Soekarno-Hatta and back was maybe 30 km total. Even with side trips for groceries or meeting friends, I could easily go three or four days between charges. I wasn't planning road trips to Bali in this thing.

Fourth, the cargo space was surprisingly practical. With the rear seats folded down, I could fit my camera equipment, flight bag, and even some larger items if needed. Not huge, but adequate for my lifestyle.

But the real clincher was the battery subscription program. For 253,000 rupiah per month (unlimited kilometers), VinFast takes responsibility for the battery health. If it drops below 70%, they replace it for free. This addressed my biggest fear about owning an EV—what happens when the battery degrades? I've seen enough aviation maintenance budgets to know that battery replacement costs can be devastating. A new EV battery can cost 80-100 million rupiah or more. With the subscription, that worry disappeared.

I did the math several times, comparing the subscription model to buying the battery outright. The car cost 152 million with battery subscription, or 192 million including the battery. That's a 40 million rupiah difference. At 253,000 per month, it would take about 158 months—over 13 years—for the subscription to cost more than buying outright. And I wasn't planning to keep this car for 13 years. Maybe five, maybe eight at most.

Plus, with the subscription, I wouldn't worry about battery degradation affecting resale value. When I eventually sold the car, the buyer would inherit the same subscription terms. That made the car much more marketable as a used vehicle. Hopefully.

With the battery subscription option, the VinFast VF 3 is the most budget-friendly electric vehicle in Indonesia as of December 2025, and it's one of the most affordable cars available. Once the VinFast plant in Subang opens in late 2026, the price is expected to decrease by 5 to 10 million. But I don't want to wait that long.

So, Andi walked me through the terms carefully. Unlimited kilometers—that was key. Some subscription programs cap your annual mileage, but VinFast's didn't. Battery health monitoring was included, with regular check-ups at their service centers. And if the battery health dropped below 70% capacity, replacement was free, no questions asked, no prorating based on age or mileage.

"What if VinFast pulls out of Indonesia?" I asked Andi, remembering my concerns about DFSK.

He showed me documentation about VinFast's parent company, Vingroup, and their investments in Indonesia. They were building a factory, establishing a dealer network, partnering with local companies. It looked solid, but you never know. Still, the three-year free charging sweetened the deal, and the 10-year warranty provided additional peace of mind.

The pricing was straightforward: 152 million with battery subscription, or 192 million including the battery. I went with the subscription. Better value, and I wasn't planning to keep this car for a decade anyway.

I ordered mine in September 2025—yellow, of course, matching my Agya. With accessories like a rear parking camera, dashcams, and floor mats, plus a 5-year installment plan, the total came to 165 million rupiah. The monthly payment would be around 2.6 million, plus the 253,000 battery subscription. Manageable on my 60 million rupiah per month salary.

The car arrived in November.

Living with the VF 3

I've owned it for over a month now, and here's the honest truth: I'm satisfied. Not head-over-heels in love, but genuinely satisfied.

The Good

The driving experience is surprisingly fun. That instant electric torque makes navigating Jakarta's traffic almost enjoyable. Threading through gaps, accelerating from stoplights—it's responsive and eager. The steering precision makes parking in tight spots easy, and the compact size means I can squeeze into spaces that would intimidate larger cars.

There's something addictive about the way electric motors deliver power. No gear changes, no engine revving, just smooth, linear acceleration. Press the pedal, and you go. Simple. Immediate. In Jakarta's stop-and-go traffic, this makes a huge difference. I can dart into gaps, respond quickly to changing conditions, and generally feel more in control than I ever did in my Agya.

The regenerative braking took some getting used to, but now I love it. Lift off the accelerator, and the car gently slows down while putting energy back into the battery. I rarely touch the brake pedal in traffic anymore—just modulate speed with the accelerator. It's like flying a glider, managing energy instead of burning fuel. Smooth, efficient, almost meditative.

The design still makes me smile. People stare. They ask questions. "What is that?" "Is that new?" "How much did it cost?" As someone who loves attention (I won't lie—I do), it's become a conversation starter. Fellow pilots at the airline have been curious, and I've found myself giving impromptu reviews in the crew parking lot.

Last week, a captain asked me about range anxiety while we were doing pre-flight checks. I told him honestly: it's real, but manageable for city driving. He nodded thoughtfully, said he'd been considering an EV too because of the odd-even rule. Two days later, I saw him at the VinFast dealership when I was there for my first scheduled check-up. He test-drove a VF 5. I might have inadvertently become a VinFast evangelist.

The attention from civilians is even better. At shopping malls, at restaurants, even at traffic lights—people point, stare, sometimes roll down their windows to ask questions. "Is that electric?" "How far can it go?" "Is it expensive?" I've started keeping VinFast's brochures in my car to hand out.

My mother noticed this when I visited Ciguguk last month. "You always liked being the center of attention," she said, smiling. "Remember when you climbed the tallest tree in the village just so everyone would see you?" Fair point, Mom. Fair point.

Range-wise, it's been beating the advertised numbers, though I should mention my usage pattern. I rarely use the infotainment system—I just connect my phone for music and navigation via Android Auto. The AC? I have a secret weapon: a handheld mini fan that I mounted on the dashboard with a holder. It's a trick I learned from my mother, who never believed in wasting electricity. The fan cost 150,000 rupiah on Tokopedia and works surprisingly well. Direct airflow, adjustable speed, and it draws minimal power from a USB port.

I also charge to only 80% most of the time, unless I'm planning a longer trip. This is supposedly better for battery longevity—something I learned from reading EV forums late at night when I couldn't sleep between flights. Full charges stress the battery, so keeping it in the 20-80% range extends its life. With the subscription covering battery replacement, maybe this doesn't matter, but old habits from managing fuel in aviation die hard. Efficiency is efficiency.

With these habits, I'm consistently getting better than the advertised 210 km range. My typical result is around 230-240 km on an 80% charge, which translates to nearly 290 km on a full charge. Impressive for a car this size and price point.

The compact dimensions are perfect for Jakarta. I can fit into parking spots that intimidate most drivers. At the airport crew parking, where space is always tight, I've claimed a spot that nobody else wants because it's slightly smaller than standard. My VF 3 fits perfectly. Small victories matter.

The safety features are adequate—two airbags, ABS with EBD, and rear parking sensors. No ADAS, but honestly, for city driving, I don't miss it. I've landed planes in crosswinds; I can handle Jakarta traffic without electronic nannies. Besides, ADAS systems in this price range are usually more annoying than helpful—constant false alarms, overcorrections, phantom braking.

The warranty is generous: 10 years or 200,000 km, whichever comes first. Plus, three years of free charging at VinFast stations, though I mostly charge at home. The charging stations at my apartment complex charge 3,000 rupiah per kWh, which means a full charge costs around 75,000 rupiah. Compare that to filling up my Agya's tank—around 300,000 rupiah for a full tank. The economics are compelling.

My monthly electricity bill has increased by about 150,000 rupiah since I started charging at home regularly, but I'm saving at least 800,000 rupiah per month on fuel for the VF 3 compared to what I would spend on petrol. The math is simple: EVs are dramatically cheaper to run.

The Not-So-Good

Let's talk about those shortcomings I noticed during the test drive. They're still there, and living with them daily has made them more apparent.

The dashboard is aggressively minimalist—too much black plastic. It feels cheap in a way that reminds me of budget airlines' cabin interiors. Functional, but uninspiring. When sunlight hits it at certain angles, the cheap plastic seems to glow with a particular tackiness that's hard to ignore. I've considered getting it wrapped or adding some trim pieces, but that feels like throwing good money after bad.

The speakers are terrible. Tinny, flat, lacking any depth. Even decent music sounds mediocre through them. Good thing I use my phone for music most of the time, connected to a small portable Bluetooth speaker I mounted on the dashboard. The irony isn't lost on me: I bought a car with a built-in entertainment system, then immediately bypassed it with my own equipment.

The infotainment system is laggy. Sometimes it takes three taps (or one long tap, around 10 seconds) to register a command. The interface looks modern but feels like it's running on hardware from ten years ago. Basic functions—adjusting settings, changing the display, accessing vehicle information—require patience. Again, my phone handles navigation and entertainment, so it's not a dealbreaker. But it's unbearable in this year. Laggy touchscreens shouldn't be acceptable in any new car.

I've learned to mostly ignore the infotainment screen. It displays the essentials without lag—speed, range, battery percentage, power consumption—and that's all I really need. Everything else comes from my phone mounted on a dashboard holder.

The AC isn't great. Even on max, it struggles on hot Jakarta afternoons. Hence my mini fan solution, which actually works quite well and uses less energy. During my commute at 5 AM for early flights, the AC is fine—the ambient temperature is cooler. But afternoon drives, especially when the car has been sitting in the sun? Forget about it. I start the AC remotely from the VinFast app about five minutes before I get in, which helps, but it's still not enough.

The mini fan was honestly a brilliant solution. My mother used to use one in our old house in Ciguguk, and I remembered how effective it was. Directed airflow makes a huge difference. I've convinced three other pilots to buy similar fans for their cars. Simple, cheap, effective—the best solutions usually are.

My biggest concern is build quality. Those panel gaps I noticed? They're uneven and noticeable if you look closely. The driver's side door has a slightly larger gap than the passenger side. The hood doesn't sit perfectly flush. It's not egregious—the car isn't going to fall apart—but it's visible. This contributes to a noisy cabin at highway speeds—wind noise seeps through in a way that would never pass quality control in aviation.

At 80-90 km/h on the toll road, the wind noise becomes intrusive. Not deafening, but annoying. I can hear air whistling through gaps around the doors and windows. It's tolerable with music playing, but in silence, it's pretty obvious. I've tried adjusting the door seals myself, pushing them into better alignment, but that only helped marginally.

One of my brothers, Raja—the mechanic—looked at the panel gaps when I visited Ciguguk. He whistled low, running his finger along the seams. "This would never pass inspection in a Japanese factory," he said. "But for the price? Honestly, it's acceptable. Just don't expect Honda or Toyota fit and finish."

The firm suspension hasn't grown on me. Every pothole is an event. Jakarta's roads are terrible anyway—broken asphalt, sudden dips, speed bumps that appear without warning—so maybe I'm just numb to it now. But long drives leave me feeling beaten up in a way my Agya never did. The Agya's suspension was softer, more absorbent, forgiving. The VF 3's suspension is the opposite: firm, communicative, punishing.

I've started planning my routes to avoid the worst roads, which adds a few minutes to some trips but saves my spine. Small adjustments for long-term comfort.

There's also a slight rattling sound from somewhere in the rear cargo area when I go over bumps. I've tried to locate it—checked the spare tire, the cargo floor panels, the seats—but haven't found the source. It's annoying but not alarming. Probably just something not quite tightened to spec at the factory.

The electronic parking brake occasionally makes a grinding sound when engaging. The dealership assured me this is normal, a characteristic of the system, but it sounds wrong to my ears. In aviation, strange sounds always mean something. But apparently in cars, some strange sounds are just "features."

The Reality Check

I use the VF 3 primarily for driving around Jabodetabek and commuting to Soekarno-Hatta. It's perfect for this purpose—the odd-even rule doesn't apply to me anymore, and the running costs are minimal. Charging at home is cheap, and maintenance is straightforward. The first scheduled service at 1,000 km was mostly just a check-up—rotating tires, inspecting brakes, updating software. In and out in 45 minutes, no charge. Compare that to ICE car maintenance with oil changes, filter replacements, and all the associated costs.

I drove it once to Ciguguk, my village near Cimahi—about 150 km from Jakarta. Round trip required two charging stops at highway rest areas. It was doable, but range anxiety is real. The whole time, I was watching the battery percentage like a fuel gauge on a low-fuel flight. Not comfortable.

The trip highlighted the limitations. I left Jakarta with a full charge—100%, about 260 km of range. The highway driving was efficient thanks to the constant speed, but I still watched the range indicator drop faster than I'd like. By the time I reached Ciguguk, I had about 35% battery remaining—maybe 90 km of range. Enough to drive around the village, visit my parents, see some friends.

But then I needed to get home. I charged at a public station in Cimahi before heading back—waited 45 minutes for an 80% charge. On the return trip, I stopped again at a rest area near Cikarang to top up, adding another 30 minutes to my journey. Total trip time: about 5 hours for what should be a 3-hour drive in my Agya.

My father was fascinated by the VF 3, walking around it repeatedly, asking questions about how electric motors work. My mother was more practical: "Does it save you money?" When I explained the running costs, she nodded approvingly. Money saved is money earned—her philosophy hasn't changed since I was a child.

My brothers took turns driving it around the village. Teguh, studying computer science, was particularly interested in the infotainment system and kept trying to hack into its settings. Gagah wanted to know about acceleration and top speed. "Can it beat a motorcycle?" he asked. "In traffic, yes," I told him. "On an open road? Probably not."

For anything beyond Jakarta, I still use my Agya. The Agya's 35-liter tank gives me 500+ km of range, I can refuel in five minutes at any gas station, and I don't spend the entire trip watching the fuel gauge with anxiety. For longer trips, the peace of mind is worth the higher running costs.

Speaking of which, I haven't sold the Agya. I still need an ICE car for longer trips, and I haven't finished paying off its 5-year installment anyway. Two cars wasn't the plan, but here we are—thanks, government regulation. The Agya now mostly sits in my apartment's parking garage, used for weekend trips and visits to my parents. I start it once a week to keep the battery charged and the engine lubricated, which feels wasteful but necessary.

Having two cars also means double the insurance costs, double the parking fees, and twice the mental load of vehicle ownership. My apartment charges 300,000 rupiah per month for each parking spot, so that's 600,000 rupiah right there. Insurance for both cars is about 500,000 rupiah per month combined. Add in the VF 3's battery subscription and installment payments, plus the Agya's remaining installments, and I'm spending a chunk of my salary on vehicles.

But what choice did I have? The government implements a regulation that makes my existing car unusable half the week, and somehow I'm the one who has to adapt and pay for it. The whole situation still frustrates me when I think about it too much.

The Modifications

I couldn't resist some customization. I swapped the stock wheels for black HSR Zero wheels, which look fantastic against the yellow body. It gives the car a more aggressive, purposeful stance. The contrast between the bright yellow and matte black is striking—people notice it even more now.

The wheel swap cost 6 million rupiah, which made me wince initially, but the visual impact was worth it. The stock wheels were fine functionally but looked cheap—silver steel rims with basic covers. The HSR wheels are lightweight alloy, slightly wider, and fill the wheel wells better. They transform the car's appearance from "affordable EV" to "customized enthusiast vehicle."

I considered adding a roof rack or modifying the front fascia—you know, really making it my own. Maybe some off-road-style bumper guards, LED light bars, that sort of thing. The VF 3's boxy design lends itself to adventure-vehicle aesthetics. It's also becoming popular in the car modding community. But the engineer in me vetoed those ideas. Extra weight and altered aerodynamics would affect range, and I'm already pushing the limits on longer trips. Function over form, as we say in aviation.

Every kilogram matters. A roof rack might weigh 10-15 kg, plus whatever I put on it. Bumper guards could add another 5-10 kg. That extra weight means more energy consumed per kilometer, which means less range. And aerodynamic modifications—spoilers, light bars, anything that disrupts airflow—would increase drag and kill efficiency.

I did add some small touches: custom yellow floor mats with black trim, a leather steering wheel cover (the stock one feels cheap), and tinted windows (essential in Jakarta's heat). These don't affect performance but make the interior more comfortable and personalized.

My photographer friends have suggested I do a proper photoshoot with the car, maybe somewhere scenic outside Jakarta. I'm tempted. The VF 3 is photogenic, especially with the custom wheels, and I could add some good content to my Instagram. Maybe during my next long weekend when I have time for a road trip.

The Bigger Picture

Here's something I didn't expect: owning the VF 3 has made me think differently about Vietnam.

I'll admit, I was low-key envious when I learned VinFast is Vietnamese. Here's a country that was war-torn just a few decades ago—bombed, divided, devastated. My parents' generation remembers Vietnam as a tragedy, a cautionary tale. And now? They're manufacturing cars. Not just manufacturing them, but exporting them internationally.

Meanwhile, Indonesia—with our vast population, natural resources, and economic potential—still doesn't have a homegrown car brand that can compete globally. We assemble cars for foreign brands. We have ambitious projects that never quite materialize. We talk about innovation but often don't follow through.

Sitting in my Vietnamese-made EV, charging it with Indonesian electricity, I can't help but feel we're falling behind. Vietnam's GDP per capita has been growing faster than ours. Their infrastructure development is impressive. They're becoming a serious player in global manufacturing. And we're... well, we're still figuring things out.

This isn't about nationalism or pride—it's about potential. Indonesia should be leading Southeast Asia in innovation and manufacturing. We have everything we need: people, resources, market size. But something isn't clicking. Corruption, bureaucracy, lack of long-term vision—pick your explanation.

I've talked about this with other pilots at TIA. Some agree, others think I'm being too harsh. "We're doing fine," one captain said. "Indonesia is growing, developing." Sure, but are we growing fast enough? Are we developing as quickly as we could be?

The VF 3 is a reminder of what's possible when a country gets serious about industrial development. Vietnam didn't have natural advantages—they built them. They focused on education, infrastructure, and attracting investment. They created conditions for companies like VinFast to exist.

Could Indonesia do the same? Absolutely. Will we? That's the question that keeps me up at night sometimes, between flights.

The Verdict

If I had to rate the VF 3, I'd give it an 8 out of 10.

Is it perfect? No. The build quality issues are real, and some of the materials feel cheap. But here's the thing: at this price point, with these running costs, and with that battery subscription removing my biggest worry, the shortcomings are acceptable.

It's fun to drive, practical for Jakarta's chaos, and distinctive enough to turn heads. The after-sales experience has been good—the dealership staff are helpful and responsive. The warranty provides peace of mind. The charging infrastructure is improving; VinFast stations are popping up across Jakarta, and more shopping malls are installing chargers.

Would I recommend it? With caveats, yes. If you need an affordable city EV and can live with its quirks, the VF 3 makes sense. If you want luxury or perfection, spend more money elsewhere. If you need a car for regular long-distance travel, look at options with longer range or stick with ICE.

For me, it's the right tool for the job—a practical response to an impractical regulation, and surprisingly enjoyable in its own right.

The thing about tools is they don't have to be perfect; they just have to work well enough for the task at hand. My camera equipment isn't the absolute best available, but it's good enough for my amateur photography. My apartment isn't a luxury penthouse, but it's comfortable and conveniently located. The VF 3 follows the same logic: good enough, and in some ways better than expected.

At 165 million rupiah total with accessories and five-year financing, it's affordable. The monthly payment of 2.6 million plus 253,000 for the battery subscription is manageable. The running costs—electricity, minimal maintenance—are substantially lower than my Agya's fuel and service costs. Over five years, the VF 3 will likely cost me less in total ownership than a comparable ICE car would.

And there's something satisfying about driving electric. The quiet operation, the smooth acceleration, the knowledge that I'm not burning fossil fuels (at least not directly—Indonesia's grid is still mostly coal-powered, but that's a different conversation). It feels modern, forward-thinking, like I'm participating in the future of transportation even if that future is still imperfect.

Final Thoughts

Looking back, it's funny how regulations force adaptation. I grew up watching planes from my rooftop in Ciguguk, dreaming of flying. I overcame financial hardship and gender bias to become a commercial pilot. And now here I am, forced to buy an electric vehicle by a government policy, and actually enjoying the experience.

The VF 3 isn't the car I dreamed of as a kid—that would be something far more exotic. But it's honest, practical, and surprisingly characterful. Kind of like me, I suppose. A working-class girl from a rice-farming family, now flying jets and navigating Jakarta in a quirky yellow EV.

Sometimes I think about my childhood, watching planes from our tin roof, imagining myself in the cockpit. My parents thought it was an impossible dream. Too expensive, too difficult, too male-dominated. But I did it anyway, through scholarships, part-time jobs, determination, and a fair bit of luck.

The VF 3 reminds me that adaptation is constant. Just when you think you've figured things out—become a pilot, bought a car, established a routine—something changes. A regulation, a pandemic, a new technology. And you have to adapt again.

The odd-even rule still feels like a conspiracy to sell more cars. But at least my conspiracy car is fun to drive and easy on the wallet. And every time someone asks me about it in a parking lot, I get to share my experience—the good, the bad, and the pragmatic.

That's worth something.

Would I buy it again? Yeah, probably. At least until something better comes along at this price point, or until the government comes up with another creative way to make our lives more complicated.

My mother called last week to check in. "How's the electric car?" she asked. I told her it was working out well, that I was saving money on fuel, that people were curious about it. She was quiet for a moment, then said, "You were always good at making the best of difficult situations."

Maybe that's the real skill—not finding perfect solutions, but making imperfect ones work. The VF 3 isn't perfect, Jakarta's regulations aren't perfect, and my career path certainly wasn't perfect. But here I am, making it all work, one day at a time.

Until then, my little yellow VF 3 and I will keep navigating Jakarta's chaos together—one electric kilometer at a time, saving money, avoiding the odd-even rule, and occasionally making envious comparisons to Vietnam's industrial progress.

Life is strange sometimes. You think you have everything figured out, and then the government announces a new regulation. You curse, you adapt, you end up with a Vietnamese electric car that you actually kind of love. And somehow, it all works out.

Eight out of ten. Not perfect, but good enough. Story of my life, really.

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I realized that my fursona Berlian's previous two cars—the 2025 Longwang L90 (https://archive.ph/LvpM7) and 2024 Suzuki Landy (https://archive.ph/epc2b)—were a bit unrealistic. After calculating her salary, I found that the situation didn't add up. So, I've decided to change her vehicles. She now drives a 2023 Toyota Agya GR Sport and a 2025 VinFast VF 3, both of which are subcompact cars. It dawned on me that the world could use more small cars. They're better for drivers, other road users, and the environment. I spotted the VinFast VF 3 at an expo, and my immediate reaction was, "This car looks like something out of Zootopia." It was love at first sight! While I could afford to buy one in real life, I have my reasons for not doing so, but at least my fursona gets to drive one!

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Story and character: Berlian the Indonesian dhole ©  JudyJudith

Art by:  tony07734123/KangWolf