The times are changing. Nothing is what it seems. Our economy is a soap bubble in a cactus garden, democracy is collapsing under its own succes. ‘Fossil’ has become the new four-letter-word.
A fossil, that’s how I feel sometimes, when a younger generation surpasses me. When I don’t want to understand the discontent of rising political movements. When I stubbornly keep doubting the alternatives for fossil energy. It forces us into a split from which together we have to find our way out. Permeated by the necessity, not convinced by the means available. Of our own part in it.
I do not believe in hybrid technology as solution to the emission problem of our cars. Not in electric propulsion as a sustainable solution for the future. Together we are in a period of global transition. A proces of change without a clear target. It leaves us insecure, impatient and unsatisfied. It makes us lean towards protectionism, hunger for the old, for times in which… Well wat actually? Were these times that much more secure? Those targets so much clearer defined?
We tend to hang on to periods in history of which we now know how they ended. What they meant to us, what they brought us. To a romantic image of times that were at least as insecure. In our specific world of classic cars we revert to the love for understandable mechanics. Recognisable smells of oil and petrol fumes. We do everything we possibly can to stay on the road in these unleaded times, where modern day additives clog our carburetors, where the asbestos free linings of our brake shoes painfully emphasise the inequality with the surrounding modern cars.
On the 10th of January 2016 our modern world was shook up by the unexpected decease of David Bowie. Entire generations were shocked. Not knowing how to handle the signals in his most recent recordings. Translating his self-determination into old fashioned suffering. Into things we do understand. Light years removed from the artist and his work. Just one day earlier, on January 9th, we lost Maria Teresa de Filippis on the blessed age of 89. Maria who? Mrs. De Filippis was the first female Formula 1 driver. She and her Maserati earned themselves a spot in the all male racing world of the nineteen fifties. An angel in between the half gods. A stranger in their midst.
Bowie, De Filippis, to me they embody a sense of positivity every period in history needs. The unseen power of an individual that against all odds demands the right to be. Showing how things can be done alternatively. Realising the outside world isn’t capable of understanding the impact. Not right away. It is what it is. Those are the heroes we all need to keep the dream alive. To keep our faith in a future where we all deserve our place. A future in which we look back with respect on the loners, the free thinkers, the ‘daredevils’ . A future to which we all contributed our own part.
2017 will bring us things we hadn’t expected, we cannot put our finger on. It will surprise us, raid us, run us over. It’s our destiny to live it. To make it worth living. To enjoy it with all our might. We could be heroes, just for one day!
Marc GF Zaan