There is nothing closer to welding without a face shield, than driving into the Southern Alberta sunrise at mid morning. At the end of the burning road, not a magic Irish dwarf on a pot a gold, but a conservative shopping netherworld, where the trees are held down with cable, and the Wild Rosers chase the freaks through the grain and barbwire, the lovely and potent Lethbridge, Alberta. What's that early morning pong? Is that meat rendering, is Leatherface boiling tourists in the piggy barn? It's smells like... Lethbridge.