I imagine a scene in the not too distant future…
A bike meet outside a cafe, a Starbucks or Costa (seeing as all independent establishments will have died).
There’s a crowd of immaculately clean, wealthy, middle class, mainly male (and some who prefer not to say), they’re all dressed in very safe, very bright, electrically operated active safety gear.
They’re with their bikes, all electrically powered, semi autonomous, totally silent and odour free. They’re all very expensive machines and their owners are taking it in turns to plugs them in to the charge points.
They’re discussing the latest downloads and apps for their machines with great interest and bold claims and the odd lively debate and bit of banter.
Then they all stop and stare in bewilderment, a noise, a smell, a sight… like folks today watching a steam locomotive pass by.
It parks up. It’s still making noises as in tinks and creaks as it cools. It’s still making smells as the hot oil and fuel vapours linger. Heck, it’s even leaking a drop or two of oil on the floor.
They stare in amazement at such quaint antique features as carberators, spark plugs, exhaust pipes, plus mysterious levers and pedals connected by cables all operated by the RIDER !?!
Our hero on the fossil burning relic doesn’t quite get lynched, at least not today, not by this crowd, but he, and his clothing, and his oily hands, are certainly looked at with mystery and interest, and perhaps a little pitty…