It’s almost taboo these days to say you enjoy driving your vehicle because the leather surrounding your month’s bread is bound by ever-frightening fuel pricing. A sad era has dawned on petrolheads; tanking up a four-wheeler seems set to become only a luxury for our next-of-salaried-kin.
There are still some of us who can’t resist opening up the throttle on an empty piece of bitumen, but we are an endangered species. Restraint will eventually dictate even the most stubborn never-change-up driver, lest the most hated gauge in personal transport today announce that famous empty threat…
We grew up when petrol was cheap, streets were empty, and exhaust fumes were dirty. And didn’t we love it! Screaming engines with only two strokes and blue smoke powered the majority of motorcycles on the road, while an Amby that gave you anything over seven kilometres to the litre was deemed acceptable.
This allowed spontaneous family excursions to ‘Selvam Bakery’ thirty kays away to buy their fresh bread, instead of hopping around the block to the neighbourhood market. Those were indeed the glory days of affordable fuel.
Now we perform ballerina impressions on the accelerator, our vehicles seem greener than trees, and kids order home delivery. It’s all depressing, really.
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