One day, those who fetishise the internal combustion engine will be perceived the same way as steam engine enthusiasts are today.
At least, that’s what somebody on the internet told me the other week in fewer than 141 characters. I think he meant it as an insult.
Which, I thought, was a bit dismissive of those who appreciate a machine that, over the past 120 years, has liberated the world, brought freedom to billions of people and relief to the needy, built communities, shortened wars (other views on its role in them are available) and made intercontinental travel possible.
But internet matey was right. The path is set. Even McLaren, maker of specialist high-performance cars, knows the internal combustion (IC) game is over. Sure, beyond our highly developed world of high-tech, high-density living, I’ll be staggered if the IC engine doesn’t have another century of life in it but, still, its time will come.
When solid-state batteries become ‘a thing’ – and Dyson reckons they will by the time it introduces a car in 2020 – the IC engine’s number, which is already up, will look even shorter. “Please tell me this doesn’t run on gas,” they’ll one day say, like Dr Calvin in I, Robot did upon encountering an MV Agusta motorbike. “Gas explodes, you know?” Yes. We know. Goody.
And so, eventually, these machines will become the preserve of the likes of... who? Us? Bearded, jauntily hatted old men (plus some women; but mostly not), messing around in sheds, keeping things going, keeping skills alive, getting grubby hands, in the name of history.