cargo

“...in the back of the ute., on a blanket with the tailgate down; a coupla cans and a Vegemite sandwich, and we'll go rootin in the back of the ute. ”

"Twenty-four kids, 9 adults and 15 dogs
All squeezed in the front seat with the wireless turned full on"

-  Kevin Bloody Wilson Rootin' in the back of the Ute and Living Next Door to Alan

There are more twin cab diesel utes getting about Apia than there are BMW's and Porsches in the suburbs between Ponsonby & Parnell combined. They're the preferred choice of locals and expats who can afford them- and of development agencies and government departments who need both transportation and to exhaust their budgets in time for replenishment. 

(In one recent case- several newer ministry utes were sidelined several months into an agricultural project- because they'd used so much of their allowance on purchasing the new fleet of vehicles, that the fuel budget was insufficient to run them all...)

On an island less than 80km long, with extensive sealed roading it can only make sense when you're sitting in the back of one. 

Sure you can fit 6 people you know, 3 you don't, a crate of beers, a dog or two and 4 more bodies in the front of a twin cab ute (do I mean 5 people in the cab? not in Samoa)...and yes, utes outperform a minibus in both accommodation and sex appeal...but the attraction they hold is greater still than that...and you have to be sitting in the back to feel it.

Sitting on the back of a ute holds a pleasure which we have forgotten in all but the most rural areas of Australia & New Zealand. It's something we lost- sacrificed to the gods of road safety statistics and funlessness (what? that might be a word...). 

It is the comfort, the sheer enjoyment, the release- of being cargo.

 

Wind in your face, sun on your back, stinging rain in your eyes, or wet dog in your lap- it doesn't matter...what matters is the relinquishing of control to a force greater than you- namely a driver to whom you cannot comment, on a route over which you hold no control and a completely rearward view prohibitive of any expectation or warning. The back of a ute, no matter the weather, no matter the destination and no matter the company is in fact a bloody relaxing place to be. Time doesn't so much stop- as look the other way for a bit, and when it looks back, you've moved on. There is a powerlessness in being cargo...completely devoid of responsibility or presumption...just along for the ride- just ask Shappelle Corby's body board bag. 

There few pleasures, truly simple pleasures, like bouncing about in the back of a ute on a sunny day, waving at the occasional stranger, getting both sun and wind burnt and wondering whether the rattling tailgate you're sitting on is secure. I'm beginning to think that they may work as some sort of low budget adventure tour...

My advice to you- if you're at home, and you have a ute...is leave now- pick someone up who looks like they need a lift...then give them the keys, jump in the back and enjoy the ride...