Four years from now, when you peek through the bars of your prison cell in the Federal Detention Center for Dissidents and Critical Thinkers, at the smoking wreckage of a formerly-great republic, at least you’ll be able to recall a perfectly mild and dry autumn evening in the Pacific Northwest when you were once free to peacefully assemble with about a dozen unarmed men and use non-fossil fuel burning transportation to congregate at a city park around a cheery bonfire brought to life by igniting scavenged wine boxes from the parking lot of a well-stocked grocery store which still permitted the sale of organically-grown produce and alcoholic spirits, and you’ll reflect again how utterly amazing it was to have experienced such times, not just once but on several score of occasions in the preceding years, and note how it never failed to result in laughter, hijinks, and fond fellowship without even a single train passing by.
You’ll remember how at that time, before the Internal-Combustion Engine Mandates were ruled constitutional by the Supreme Court and the President-for-Life’s Storm Troops hadn’t yet started rounding up anyone who had ever read a book or contributed to Planned Parenthood, there were still many places one was allowed to ride bikes to and recall that sure, you could have taken the short and easy way to the pretty little lake that hadn’t yet been drained for the now ubiquitous municipal gas fracking rigs, but much better to hold out for that most paradigmatic of Thursday night destinations where fireplace logs and construction leftovers could join with balsa wood packaging and failed spawn to warm even the most despairing of souls just days after that final federal election in our lifetimes.
The AI-powered Tesla prison guards will, of course, soon come by to strap you back into the Behavior Modification Module for further reprogramming, but even though they’ll keep taking away your freedom, they’ll never make off with those memories of such authentic two-wheeled liberation.