Colm O'Regan: 'You have not seen a happier man than a man perched on top of a 1966 Massey'

The remake in the mid-2000s was the first series I binge watched in the post-TV world. It was pre-streaming so most of the episodes were watched across a variety of dodgy free TV sites where you had to know which window to click on or else your computer was injected with ivermectin.

There are 100 episodes across six seasons and it’s an epic but it all boils down to one basic warning: Don’t connect everything to the network or the evil robots will destroy
humanity.

The Battlestar Galactica itself is a giant space-ship. It’s the only one that survives the killler robots attack because it is so old, it isn’t connected to any kind of computer network. It’s offline.

And naturally I thought of Battlestar Galactica while at sundry mid-Cork St Patrick’s Day parades. To be clear, it wasn’t the first thing I thought of. The first was yet another pang of realisation about time passing. 

There I was enjoying the lovely floats from Ballincollig Tidy Towns and other positive happy people who get involved in stuff when it hit me right between the eyes. Like when they include ‘Maniac 2000’ on a golden oldies playlist. Or watching a football match and realising the familiar surname of a player is actually the son of a player you remember from 2004.

In Ballincollig, the pang was seeing a Cinquecento roll by in among the Ballincollig vintage cars.

For those who don’t know, the Fiat Cinquecento along with the Fiat Punto and the Ford Ka are cars that only came out a few years ago. They definitely shouldn’t be getting any preferential treatment in the NCT.

Earlier that day it was more comforting. The Dripsey vintage tractors were joyful little Masseys and Ford 3000s and David Browns. So at least they were old when I was young.

The Ballincollig and Dripsey events had something in common. There were a load of men absolutely delighted with their machines. There are so many ways in which modern masculinity is portrayed as joyless and taking photos of abs in the mirror. 

But you have not seen a happier man than one perched on top of a 1966 Massey. Now, he’s absolutely frozen on top of a tractor with no cab but he’s so pleased at fixing it up himself.

But back to Battlestar Galactica, it struck me that these old cars and tractors and their owners seem so independent. 

In a hyper-connected world where the supply of so many things is at the whim of a billionaire and his mad king and their buddy the dictator, you could imagine these tractors and cars still working once there is a drop of fuel in a barrel somewhere. 

There isn’t a silicon chip in sight. There is no dependence on satellites. No Trump decision can turn off the navigation system and leave a David Brown prone to a Russian drone strike. It doesn’t turn up on any radar.

If they break there’s an army of enthusiasts who can fix them.

I’m not saying the Americans and Russians will team up to divide Ireland down the middle with an uneasy line through Athlone. It’s unlikely, although technically it’s never been more likely.

But I just have this feeling that one day we might be very glad of the tinkerers who keep the old gear going.

If the moment ever comes, Battletractor Galactica is ready to answer the call.