Petrol cars are dying. Get over it.
The petrol car is dying. There. I’ve said it.
It doesn’t have to, but it’s going to. We have decided to save Wally the endangered Whale instead.
We? I couldn’t care less about Wally. Give me my V8 back.
I’m afraid it’s not that easy. You see, we live in a largely democratic world. A world where people’s votes count (mostly). And the majority of people (or so we’ve been led to believe) have voted in favour of Wally.
See, it isn’t just the petrol car that’s dying. The world is too, I’m afraid.
Can’t we stop it?
No. We can’t.
Death is inevitable.
Well, that’s a bit morbid.
That’s life, my friend.
Well, if the world’s doomed anyway, what’s the point of killing off the supercar?
Why not go wild and burn all the petrol we can?
We’re not killing off the supercar. We’re killing off the petrol-powered supercar.
And it’s not to stop the earth from dying. It’s to extend its life.
You can take my Golf, but keep your mitts off the supercar.
And how does that make you feel?
Cut the psychology BS, chump.
In all seriousness though, I see why you’re frustrated.
After all, sports-car sales make up a mere 1.6% of all new car sales(in Australia, at least). 1.6%! They’re hardly denting the atmosphere.
SUVs on the other hand…
Don’t get me started.
Triggered? I’ll save that conversation for another time.
Do you really think all petrol cars are destined for the guillotine?
99.9% of them are, at least.
And the 0.1%?
I suspect a few low-volume marques will make it out alive producing cars under the guise of ‘art’.
But even then it’s not guaranteed. Wally the Whale has some powerful allies.
I’m still gutted.
We all are. But there’s no use complaining about it any longer, it’s coming. Get over it.
Look around. We’re in the Christmas-era of cars. Never before has there been such an exotic array of machinery available to the buying public. The New Year is coming, but let’s worry about that later. There’s a feast to be had.
If you’re complaining about the imminent arrival of electric performance cars, either purchase the petrol-powered sports car you’ve been yearning for or shut up. And if you do, make sure to drive the bloody thing. Enjoy this time while it lasts. There’s no use wasting any more time moping about feeling sorry for yourself. Go out and drive the car you want while you can.
I’m off to paint some doughnuts outside of Parliament house.