The other day my boss and longtime friend Tem were driving along Houston Street to a job site on East 10th Street. The Californian had moved here in the early 80s and I had come to the East Village in the 70s. We spoke about the changes to the neighborhood, pointing out what was still where it was and what wasn’t. Most of it was gone and turning onto Lafayette the architectural metal worker said, “There used to be a car wash here.”

“With a gas station.”

All the gas stations are vanishing from New York.”

“The ones on the Bowery have been gone for years.” I used to walk under the shelter of the 4th Street gas station in the rain.

“Like the one where I bought my old Soviet bike.” It had been a bright orange.

“Or the one on the FDR.”

“That’s still there, but most will become skinny luxury condos.”

“Like the rest of Manhattan.” The borough had been undergoing a radical economic cleansing during Mayor Bloomberg’s three terms.

“Soon motorists will have to get gas in Brooklyn.”

“Unless there are no cars in the city.” My dream for a carless society was not so farfetched without gas in a city.

“There’ll always be cars.” Tem came from California and the Golden State was the birthplace of America’s love with the car.

“There are no cars in STAR TREK.”

“And there’s no STAR TREK on TV now.”

“No, there isn’t.” For the first time in decades the Enterprise wasn’t exploring the cosmos.

Tem dropped me on 10th Street to bondo the cracked metal door frames and I thought about a gas station on 10th Avenue which sold for a fortune. The developer planned a 12-story, 15-unit condo. Each one had to cost $5 million for him to break even.

Maybe more.

And the rich don’t care about gas.

They can drive electric cars.

Or not drive at all, since they’ll all have helicopters to take them to their mansions.

Ah, to be rich in these modern times.