It’s Sunday. Our vehicle is parked at Sault Transmission. I slipped its key through the after-hours flap inside an envelope with an accompanying piece of paper, on which I wrote that the transfer case is leaking transmission oil, the cabin smells hot, the vehicle is shifting gears irregularly and that we’re hoping to be back on the road on Monday.
Other than Canadian Tire, there were no garages open on Saturday, when we rolled into Sault Ste. Marie, which is colloquially known as The Soo.
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My wife and I drove to The Soo to visit friends. They are from Toronto. We are not. We decided to meet somewhere in between.
Our first night was spent in a tent on the shore of Lake Superior — site 17 at Rossport Campground, in Rainbow Falls Provincial Park. It was spectacular. The moon was full, a fact we hadn’t realized. We were rewarded by the revelation when, after having completed the process of setting up our campsite, we walked down to the lakeshore, where I met Jarron. He was perched on a rock sitting behind his tripod and camera, waiting for the full moon to crest over a small inlet.
Jarron and his family were camping in the spot beside ours. He teaches physics at a high school in Thunder Bay and he runs a photography business on the side. We chatted for a while that evening and then continued to nerd out over camera gear the next morning when he stopped by to see just how comically large one of the lenses I recently purchased was.
We packed up and hit the road. I was convinced that the problems of the previous day would stay there. Alas, they did not. At a fuel stop in Terrace Bay, I became set on talking to someone with expertise about the state of our vehicle.
The person at the first shop was stressed and flustered, and said I should call the Ford dealership a few miles down the road. I did. That person, also in a tizzy, said something like, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get anything done today.”
It looked grim. At the nearby Chevy dealership, Spadoni Motors, a gentleman came out, sat in our vehicle, opened the hood and chatted with me and said he saw no problem and we should forge ahead. He was friendly and chatty.
I’ve met a lot of people on this trip, and that alone has made it worthwhile.
I took something from each exchange. They were all enriching and they all played a role in informing my own outlook on the trip and the fate of our vehicle.
Farmers, we are silos out there. Or, at least, we run the risk of operating as silos. The traditional farm business model doesn’t require us to change. It doesn’t require us to entertain or implement new ideas, new growing practices, new ideologies.
People can be how they want to be, but I think farm businesses should be accountable to more than just the markets and I think the high praise we give to family-run operations shouldn’t be considered outside of that operation’s ability to change, evolve and hold itself to standards it isn’t setting itself. These businesses are, after all, feeding the world, as we farmers are so quick to say. So, important stuff.
Progressive attitudes, diverse thinking and accountability should be treated as necessary elements.
For a business to stay in a family for multiple generations is an achievement, but there are risks.
Sault Transmission opens at 8 a.m. tomorrow, at which time I will meet yet another character on this trip. Hopefully, good news awaits.
Toban Dyck farms in southern Manitoba and shares his thoughts through media platforms.
