Thursday, April 19, 2007
Location: Piikani Reservation, Alberta

I’m back into film production, on the days the weather cooperates with me, this after a few months of learning to listen. It’s been raining here for the past few days, and it seems if it’s not raining it’s snowing. Although the moisture isn’t great for production, it’s excellent for what I now affectionately call ‘my girls’. The 160 cows I help care for. Well, it’s not exactly great for the cows, but it’s great for the grass, it’ll bring lots of green, and lots of green means healthy and happy cows and horses across the reservation, which in turn means higher cattle prices, more money, better grass-finished beef on the table. Again all interconnected.

I’m taking advantage of the rain and using the time to clean my camera gear. I also just changed my van’s alternator, and she’s currently jacked up outside while I wait for a delivery of new brakes and rotors tomorrow morning. I’ve never really been into working on vehicles, but here on the reserve, some attitudes have changed. I’ve started looking at the ability to work on vehicles as a form of traditional knowledge.

My van is a '93 GMC Diesel and is fairly difficult to work on in terms of space under the hood. But I CAN work on her if I take the time. Being a '93 and diesel, things are built in a fairly straightforward and low-tech fashion. This is the same for most of the Peigan ranch trucks I’ve had the privilege of riding in, and crawling under. The thing that I’m beginning to love about the concept of the old farm truck is that you can fix them. Almost anyone, with very limited knowledge, can fix a farm truck, all it takes is time and a scrapyard.

With most vehicles on the road today, we’re up the proverbial creek. This because cars of today are built to include high-tech electronics and on-board computer systems, all jam-packed under the hood using factory robotics, leaving little room for human hands to work & play. Contemporary cars and trucks just aren’t designed like they used to be… simple.

This is just one of these things in the world that erks me. It bothers me that vehicles nowadays are designed to be complex, to render us incapable, to tie us into a larger auto maintenance economic system of new parts, high-tech gadgetry and skilled labour. Simply put, building complex fancy cars and trucks is great for the economy, but bad for someone short on $ who just wants to crawl under the hood and do it themselves.

I think we should design a car that is free of all the bells and whistles, runs reliably, consumes little fuel, and can be fixed with a bent coat hanger. That’s what I’d like to see, spare me your new Lexus, I’ll take the old brown farm truck I can fix with a pair of pantyhose.

The other day Morris and I met a guy who had broken down on the outskirts of Brocket on his way to Lethbridge. We opened up his hood and were faced with exactly the complexity I’m talking about. Looking at each other we both shook our heads, “Sorry, we can’t really help you, except to call you a tow truck.” Half-hour later we watched as he was towed down the highway past the ranch. I’m guessing a tow from Brocket to Lethbridge costs around $300.

peace,
d