How Mr Elon Musk’s new people’s car, the Model 3, performs on a test track built the frozen sea in Finland.

To say that Tesla has a lot riding on the success of the Model 3 is something of an understatement. This isn’t just the most important car that Tesla has ever made; it’s one of the most important cars ever made, period. As the Californian company’s first shot at a reasonably priced, mass-market electric car, it represents a crucial step in Mr Elon Musk’s “secret master plan” to rid our roads of fossil-fuel guzzlers and expedite the world’s transition to sustainable energy.

It’s hard not to be seduced by Mr Musk’s utopian vision of the future, a world of zero-emissions, self-driving vehicles powered by electricity generated by solar panels and stored in battery walls built into our homes. Getting it all up and running, though, is proving trickier than expected. The Model 3’s production process has been fraught with difficulties; a prodigious wad of cash has been burned along the way. But if Tesla can deliver – and the most recent sales figures from North America suggest that maybe, just maybe, it can – then it may well go down in history as the car that dealt the killer blow to the internal combustion engine.

But enough of that. What’s it actually like to drive? This is Tesla, after all, a company whose Model S P100D luxury saloon has a reputation for out-racing muscle cars over short distances. Even the Model 3, long touted as the “affordable” Tesla, can claim a 0-60mph time of just over three seconds with its top-of-the-range offering. And so, when I received an email from Tesla’s Europe team inviting me to a test track in northern Finland to put their new car through its paces, well... I couldn’t exactly say no, could I?

And so to Kemi, a coastal town on the Gulf of Bothnia and home to the world’s only on-sea ice track. Winter days dawn late and slow here, the sun never quite making it into the higher reaches of the sky. The effects of this are twofold: first, to cast everything in a gorgeous, oblique light; and second, to ensure that it is very, very cold indeed. The 15in touchscreen of the Model 3 – the central hub through which everything in the car, including access to the passenger glove box, is controlled – displays an outdoor temperature of -20ºC. This is a reassuring sight when you’re about to drive close to two tons of low-buoyancy metal onto a sheet of ice.

The freshly groomed track stretches out before me. In the distance, a cluster of wind turbines – such a ubiquitous sight in green energy-loving Scandinavia – cast shadows that seem to stretch for miles. I pause for a moment to recall the peculiar wording on the invitation sent by Tesla. “Experience the exciting and safe handling capabilities of the new Model 3.” “Enjoy the safe performance.” “A fun and safe drive on the ice track.” Why did they feel the need to say safe three times? Did something bad happen the last time they organised one of these?

Sitting in the passenger seat next to me, the 23-year-old Finnish rally driver Mr Taisko “Tade” Lario senses my nerves. “At this time of year, the ice is 60cm thick,” he tells me. “You can drive safely on 20cm.” I wonder how he knows this. Trial and error? I’ll have to take his word for it – I’m far too proud to back out now. Steeling myself, I lift my foot off the brake, lightly depress the accelerator and am carried smoothly and silently out to sea.

For those who haven’t sat at the wheel of an electric car before, one of the hallmarks of the experience when compared to the average gas-guzzler is that instantaneous “oomph” you get when you hit the pedal. It’s a bit like the difference between striking a match and flicking on a light switch. The power, the torque: it’s there, all of it, right away. What this means in practice is that flooring it in an electric car – especially a quick one – feels like being punched in the back by a gorilla.

And the Model 3 is most definitely a quick one. Not as nippy as the supercar-besting Model S – which, timely reminder, costs twice to three times as much – but not far off, either. And whereas the Model S often gets criticised for going very fast indeed in a straight line but not doing a great deal else, the much lighter Model 3 feels responsive. Agile, even. Slaloming between cones and skidding around icy bends, I feel surprisingly in control. And when Tade takes the wheel and activates Track Mode, which might as well be called “make it go sideways” mode, I get to see what the car is really capable of in experienced hands.

Unsurprisingly, this is wild, rollocking fun. I feel like a child on a fairground ride, even if I do find myself questioning the point of taking a car designed for speed-limited roads and throwing it around on an ice track for a few hours. But… that’s not the point, is it? For all of Tesla’s revolutionary ambition, it’s wise enough to know that it’s not going to revolutionise anything with a boring car.

Because of its cult-like following, Tesla is often described as the Apple of the car industry. And as I hit the apex on the final bend, push the throttle down and feel myself sucked back into my seat, I think that I’m beginning to understand why the company inspires such ardent fanboyism. It’s this kind of experience that makes evangelists out of people. The car barrels over the finish line and I turn to my co-driver with an idiotic grin across my face: “Can I do one more lap?”