I was driving home the other day, from a fishing recce of course, when I tuned into a Radio Four feature on the future of the car and a debate between environmentalists and drivers, like you and me.

You can imagine the well-rehearsed sermons for yourself, but one well-argued point stood out for me, namely that cars will be phased out of our lives over the next generation or so. It might well be that electric vehicles are the last hurrah in this world of private transport that we have enjoyed for nigh on a century and the middle future might very probably look different indeed. There are good reasons for thinking this might come to pass.

We drivers can’t deny the damage cars do to the planet. Building them is excruciatingly harmful and then the running and eventual disposal of them only adds to the harm done. Cost, too. Let’s be honest with ourselves. The spiral in expense we are witnessing right now will not go away. In all likelihood we are entering that phase in motoring where running a car is no longer a dent in the budget we can cope with easily. It won’t be long before many a motorist will be doing some painful sums and head scratching.

Thirdly, we are seeing the rise of Metropolis Man and Woman too, of course. My stepson Krish lives in Norwich, is closing on 30 and has no intention or need to pass a driving test. He cycles, walks or buses it to work and all his social life is urban-orientated. It’s exactly the same with his twin brother Ashan who lives a similar existence in Barcelona. They both enjoy football and they can watch on their tablets, kick a ball around in a park or even go to Carrow Road or Camp Nou if the mood takes them. But, as we know, angling is not containable like this and demands a high level of mobility and personal freedom of transport choice.

If we go back to the late 60s, every fishing-mad youth I knew in Norfolk was panting to reach 17. Without wheels, how would a city angler get to Blickling for example? Catch the first bus to Aylsham? Walk with a ton of gear down the Saxthorpe road to the bottom of the lake? Those tench would have stopped feeding a good two hours before our friend cast out a float. There’d be just time to eat some desiccated sandwiches before the reverse journey would loom large.

That was my pre-driving licence life. Wet nets on trains, trails of maggots on buses and a rod bag stuck in the spokes of a bicycle that landed me in A&E for the night. My first beloved Fiat 600 saw me access Saham Toney mere for the first of my angling adventures on my own wheels. I could hurtle south from Blakeney when the birds were still sleepy on the lanes and punt myself out onto the mist-cloaked lake with a quant the size of half an oak tree. I caught wild carp to pull my arm off and the crucians were so prolific you could literally catch them by scooping a landing net. Since then, I’ve enjoyed over 30 vehicles that have transported me over one million miles to at least five thousand such mornings. What a life!

So? The future might not bother me unduly and cars. I guess. will just about see me out, but it is interesting to speculate on our sport’s future. It might well be that we revert to something like the 1920s and 30s when cars were for the rich exclusively, taking our well-healed farmers on annual salmon fishing holidays to Scotland. If that is to be the case, then the rest of us will fish like our immediate forbears did.

Might not angling clubs of the old style spring up again and wouldn’t coaches once more weave their way on Sunday mornings to distant venues where matches could be held? Local venues would feature once more, just like the canals did in my northern infancy when the mill workers lined the tow paths every summer evening. Commercials as we know them might bite the dust too? The cost of fish food and of carp to stock them will continue to rocket and tickets might become just too expensive to contemplate in a future of food and fuel famine. Nor might many of us have money to burn on expensive boilies or pellets as we peer into a cash-strapped future.

Mind you, none of this might not be a bad thing. The planet might become cleaner and quieter and life might become less frenetic. Above all, if every angler in Norwich is financially forced to fish the Wensum in the city centre, this might force us to demand the authorities do something positive to make our sport there safe and fruitful both. Who knows what light there might be at the end of this frightening and twisting tunnel?