Let me set the scene: It’s 2:37 in the night at a remote campsite in Germany. I’m in the back of my Tesla Model Y, sprawled out on a flimsy air mattress fitted to the car that I optimistically labeled as “good enough”. Spoiler alert: It was not. One moment, I was floating on what used to be an inflated air mattress, the next, I was nose-to-nose with the unyielding reality of Tesla’s cargo space. The air mattress had given up, and as the air slowly leaked out, my hip found itself in an intimate, bone-crushing embrace with the car’s folded seat hinges. I was officially camping on the car, not in it.
“I’m fine,” I muttered to myself. I wasn’t.
That night, I made a promise: I was going to solve the Tesla camping sleep struggle once and for all. After all, I convinved myself when I initially bought the that “it’s basically a hotel on wheels”.
Fast forward to my second attempt: a memory foam mattress, custom-built for the Tesla. I had successfully eliminated the slow betrayal of deflating air, but I was about to face a far greater adversary—gravity.
See, when you weigh in at around 100 kg / 220 pounds, “memory foam” starts to feel less like a supportive sleep surface and more like a very slow sinkhole. I woke up feeling like I had lost a bar fight… against myself.
By the time I reached my third attempt at mastering Tesla camping, I felt like a sleep-deprived mad scientist. I had tried the classic air mattress—big mistake. Then, I moved on to a memory foam pad—better, but gravity had other plans. My quest for a good night’s sleep in the back of my Model Y was starting to feel like a reality show challenge: “Can You Sleep Here?” Spoiler: So far, I was losing.
I was reaching a point, where I would have to accept my faith as in the fairy tale about The princess and the Pea. Until one late evening doom scrolling through social media, something caught my attention, The Snuuzu Tesla Mattress, a Kickstarter project promising the comfort of a hotel mattress, vacuum-packed into a duffel bag the size of my weekend laundry load? WOW!
A whopping 729 euros… including two pillows? Also WOWOW! (but in a slightly different pitch).
After pacing around the house doing financial gymnastics and pretending I was being “financially responsible,” I caved. Kickstarters are a gamble—I’ve backed projects before that ended in disappointment and broken dreams. But then again… a week in a half-decent hotel adds up fast, and it doesn’t fit in the trunk of my Tesla.
I clicked “pledge,” crossed my fingers, and hoped I hadn’t just bought the world’s most expensive floor cushion.
To their credit, the Snuuzu team absolutely crushed it on the communication front. Regular manufacturing and shipping updates, behind-the-scenes looks, even peaks from their participcation in various Tesla Owner Camping events. It actually started to feel real.
Trading sanity for a Tesla mattress adventure
Cue dramatic music — an zoom in on a rather important email notification: Your mattress is ready.
Most people would’ve waited patiently for shipping.
I am not most people.
Somewhere between excitement and mild mania, I got the crazy idea to road trip 8 hours from Denmark to Haarlem to pick it up myself. Why? Part adventure, part impatience, part Tesla logic: “Well, I’ll be sleeping on it, might as well start bonding early.”
I pulled into Haarlem like Frodo reaching Mordor – except instead of destroying a cursed ring, I was there to collect the one mattress to rule them all. The Snuuzu team welcomed me like an old friend—or maybe just a particularly enthusiastic Kickstarter backer.
We ended up chatting for hours, shared a few laughs and even managed to squeeze in time to play padel (kudos guys!), and by the end of it, I drove away with the mattress packed neatly in my trunk—muttering “my Snuuzu… my precious…” as I drive out of Haarlem.
Now, for context—I weigh about 100 kg and usually sleep on my side or stomach, which basically makes me a mattress’s worst nightmare. Most camping setups I’ve tried treat that combo like a personal insult. I either sink into a black hole of back pain or wake up feeling like I’ve been gently tenderized overnight.
But with the Snuuzu? Not a problem.
No weird pressure points, no spine begging for mercy, no waking up halfway through the night to do the awkward “shift-your-body-without-hitting-the-roof” shuffle. Just solid, supportive comfort that held up like a champ—even with me flopped over in full “dead seal” sleeping position. Color me impressed.
Final verdict: 4.5/5
After one wild road trip, a solid sleep, and countless past mattress disappointments—I can confidently say the Snuuzu delivers. It’s the first time I’ve woken up in the back of my Model Y without feeling like I lost a bar fight with the seat hinges. For side and stomach sleepers (especially those of us tipping the scale around 100 kg), it holds up like a pro. Is it perfect? Almost. But it’s definitely the best I’ve tried—and I’ve tried more sleeping surfaces than I care to admit.
Would I recommend it? 100%.
Would I drive 8 hours again? Absolutely. But this time, I’d bring the mattress with me—because now I know I’ll actually enjoy the stopover sleep on the way.
But here’s the breakdown:
Pros | Cons |
---|---|
Incredibly comfortable—even for side/stomach sleepers around 100 kg | High price point (but well worth it) |
Very easy and intuitive setup (even when half-asleep) | Fits the trunk easily, will just fit the frunk |
Clever packaging – bag integrated with the mattress | Short charging cable — buy an angled USB-C cable to charge from the rear center console (approx 4 USD) |
Feels better than many hotel mattresses | May require flowers and a heartfelt “I swear it’s worth it” to your spouse |
Easily inflate/deflate, no air leakage, no “slow deflation betrayal” | People may judge you for whispering “my precious” to your mattress |
Pros | Cons |
---|---|
Ridiculously comfortable—even for heavier side/stomach sleepers | The price is spicy (€729 isn’t exactly budget camping) |
Easy setup, even when functioning on 12% brain | Barely squeezes into the frunk—trunk is no problem though |
Packs down small, looks deceptively innocent in its duffel | Charging cable is short—get an angled USB-C to USB-C and thank me later |
No air leaks, no back pain, no mattress betrayal | May require flowers and a heartfelt “I swear it’s worth it” to your spouse |
Legit feels better than some hotel beds | You’ll never be able to go back to “good enough” again |
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