A World With Less Oil: Are you prepared?

Sometimes, if I’m paying attention, I get to see small glimpses of our future. They are always fleeting and soon gone, but I see them, sometimes at the outer edge of my vision. And maybe that’s how the future arrives: in bits and pieces, a little at a time, starting out around the edges.

I open the garage door and walk outside on a Sunday morning around sun-up. No traffic on Lake Avenue. No planes in the sky. Not a single unnatural noise. It is, for just a very short time before the world of man wakes up, a silent world without oil. Very nice.

The pump nozzles are bagged - the universal sign of “No Gas”. There are a dozen different reasons why that may be, but there it is: A gasless gas station, and maybe for a day or so, a glimpse of our future. Contrary to popular belief, I do not smile at this.

I stop to watch a group of cyclists pass me headed south to the park. They are not bike racers, just everyday people on everyday bikes, out for a ride. I like that. I expect to see more of that in the future. I do see more people riding with shopping bags these days, both empty and full, doing their errands a la velo. I like that a lot.

There in the grocery store - that fellow with bands around his pant cuffs, wearing fingerless cycling gloves and a bike helmet, with a backpack for the groceries. Oh, wait - that’s me. Well, it’s still a glimpse of the future for all of us, if we’re lucky.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised that my little oil book, Peak of the Devil, hasn’t caught more flack than it has for being an overly-optimistic (and overly simplistic) look at what must surely be our very bleak future. I tried to make it as ungrim as I could, considering how very grim it may turn out to be. And I do like the idea of us maybe being able to get by on much less than we have now - and maybe our lives will be better for it. But we need to start now.

We each need to understand what it is that we do that we won’t be doing later. That conspicuous consumption brought on by presumptive entitlement (didn’t know I knew the big words, did ya?) is going to hang like a rotting albatross around the necks of people too stubborn to adapt. You need to know this: It’s going to change. Be a good scout. Be prepared. Be prepared before you have to be prepared.

This past weekend, I hosted a Tweed Ride for my 60th Birthday. We rode our vintage English three-speeds out to the Safety Harbor Spa for tea and crumpets. Pinkies out. I had knickers made for the occasion. I wore a bow tie and a jaunty cap. And if this humble little ride is a glimpse of what is to come, of a world with less oil, then our future might not be quite so unpleasant as many, myself included, would have you believe. Next week we'll do it again in St. Pete.

Keep your bike tires pumped.