In the post apocalyptic Mad Max world, men fight not for food, not for women, but for gasoline.
Gasoline is power.
The ones in charge are the motorcyclists and the truckers. Our lone hero drives a souped up car, has a pet dog and just wants to be left alone.
In our pre apocalyptic world, enter the truckers and the motorcyclists, wielding their power to overthrow our governments and rain holy hell upon us with dictatorships and fascism. The motorcycle is quick and agile, the truck is brute strength. The car just wants to take a nice trip to the countryside and forget all this stuff.
I thought mechanical hostility reigned only in the movies and that the good guy always wins.
But alas we enter the Mad Max era, and every protest is a violent engine, noise and gas fumes protest, and the good guys are losing.
Every night, drag races rule the streets. Every weekend trucks block our downtown core. Motorcycles blast through our towns. Every day I read about how many tickets (that will never be paid) are issued and how many licenses have been suspended and how many vehicles have been towed. The numbers go up and up and up and lawlessness is wearing us out to the point the Mad Max universe will rule.
Only the world won’t be in the hands of the truckers and motorcyclists. It’ll be in the hands of the ones who own the gasoline, and they won’t let anyone use it, except themselves. Protests and all that go with it, trucks, motorcycles, guns and weapons will be banned. The war on democracy will be over, and the 1% take over.
Our hero, his car and his dog don’t win. Nobody who was in the fight wins. Just the fat cats on the sidelines who incited all the turmoil.
At least it’ll be quiet.