Enjoy the ICE Age While It Lasts!!! Before the Silence Takes Over

Because one day, silence will replace the symphony.

Once upon a throttle twist, the roads echoed with the music of internal combustion. Pops, bangs, growls—our unofficial national anthem. Soon? It’s eerily quiet. Like a yoga retreat… on mute.

We’re living in the last glorious chapter of the ICE age—and no, not the one with mammoths and sloths (though some of us bikers could use the leather vests). We mean Internal Combustion Engines, the very heartbeat of biking culture. The fire-breathing, fuel-guzzling, heat-blasting machines that made us fall in love with two wheels in the first place.

But alas, the EV plague is upon us. Smooth, silent, torque-rich, and… dare we say it? gay. Not the pride kind. The meme kind. The kind where you accidentally step on something soft and someone whispers, “Oh no… I stepped on an EV.”

There’s no thump, no clack, no soulful misfire to romance. Just… hmmmmm. Like a blender with identity issues.

Let’s not pretend this isn’t emotional. For bikers, machines aren’t just transport. They’re rebellion, therapy, character, and chaos bottled up into a mechanical tantrum. Every gear shift has a memory, every roar a story.

But now, the streets are falling silent.

Biking used to be culture. A tribe. A lifestyle. Now it’s becoming… software.

And yes, maybe one day hydrogen will save us. Or alternate fuels will step up. Maybe some mad genius will keep the ICE heartbeat alive. But until then, let’s enjoy the ICE age while it lasts.

This blog isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a call. If you’re one of those riders who still tears up at the sound of a cold start, if you’re curious about researching hydrogen ICEs or alternate fuels, maybe you’re the reason the roar doesn’t die.

Because when the world turns down the volume, someone has to bring back the noise.

So here’s a far cry into the wind before it turns electric—

To the smell of burnt clutch, the scars from a slipped spanner, the late-night carb tunes, and the brotherhood forged over open hoods.

To the ICEs that roared louder than our worries ever could.
May we never forget what it felt like to ride, not just move.
And if there’s even a flicker of hope left in hydrogen, alternate fuels, or some mad mech wizard out there—

Let’s chase it. Wrench it. Rev it.
Because silence was never our soundtrack.

A Glimmer of Hope?
Maybe, just maybe, it’s not over.

eFuels—synthetic, cleaner, and compatible with our beloved ICEs—are inching toward reality. If they scale, we might just hold the line.

The machines won’t need to die. We won’t need to whisper.
Until then, we ride in hope… and in noise.