About 8 years ago, I was introduced to the extreme sport of potato shooting. I had seen and heard of a potato gun before, but had never got to shoot one myself. It's some of the most fun, and relatively inexpensive, redneck fun I've had. It's a simple, yet somewhat dangerous, toy that provides a lot of good old-fashioned masculine entertainment. They can be made in many different shapes and sizes and can shoot anything from russets to tennis balls. I have a lot of friends that have built potato guns and displayed their skill at engineering the perfect recipe for combustion, but none have put as much time and effort into it as my friend Chip.
About 5 years ago, Tricia and I met Chip and his wife, April, at church and we quickly hit it off. We both enjoyed the outdoors and had a lot of similar interests. The first invitation that Tricia and I got to Chip and April's house was a typical cookout and game night type event with another couple from church, Adam and Leslie. While Adam and I were hovering around the back porch tending to the grill, Chip came around the corner with a pretty wild combination of PVC reducers and couplings assembled with what appeared to be a barrel attached at one end. I quickly recognized that it was a potato gun, but not one like I'd ever seen.
Chip had experimented years before with different designs to get the most bang and therefore the most distance. What he came up with was a combustion chamber with 2 sets of opposing 4" x 2" reducer couplings to act as a 2-stage venturi (for the non-physics types, google it) to speed up the combustion pressure. It looked pretty wild and I anxiously awaited Chip loading a potato and seeing what this thing could do. He reached into a backpack that had his fuel (hairspray at the time) and didn't grab a potato....... but instead a golf ball. Now it didn't take long for me to realize that this was not only going to be awesome, but potentially hazardous. Chip loaded the golf ball, I sprayed in the fuel, he put the lid on, twisted the igniter (lantern lighter) and BOOM! That golf ball was out of sight in a split second. It was WAY more impressive than anything I'd seen before and took this extreme sport to a new level for me.
Over the years, Chip and I would get the potato gun out from time to time and launch a few golf balls over the lake behind Chip's house. Each time it was just as impressive as the first. Recently, we decided to get an 'accurate' distance measurement on just how far we could shoot a golf ball. Chip came up with an idea to measure the 'exact' distance. He knew that there were 1700 feet from one side of his property to the other and he'd shoot the golf balls across the property, which is an open field, and measure the distance. The only problem was finding the ball after the shot. It got out of sight so quick that it was nearly impossible to locate. So back to the drawing board.
A week later we came up with a high precision golf ball location system. Chip armed with the gun and a cell phone, I traveled down the field on his four-wheeler with my cell and got into position about 1700 feet from Chip. Knowing in the back of my mind that this could end badly, I gave the go-ahead for Chip to shoot and then would hide behind the four-wheeler waiting for the golf ball to land. It took about 10 shots before I finally saw a ball land in the field, and we estimated the shot at 1500 feet into a pretty stiff wind. We were all impressed, but no where near satisfied.
Two weeks ago, I found a few websites with loads of design tips and distance data for shooting potatos, golf balls, and tennis balls. I got side tracked on the quest for improving the golf ball distance and decided to build a tennis ball cannon. I use the word cannon, because it dwarfs the potato gun and is loud enough to leave your ears ringing after a single shot. While in the process of building the cannon, I shared my web findings with Chip and he took it from there with his potato gun.
Last Friday night, Chip and April came over to our house and Chip and I showed off our projects. I fired a few rounds from the tennis ball cannon and Chip was impressed. Based on the data we'd found on the web, we estimtate the tennis ball leaving the barrel at over 300 MPH. Roger Federer has nothing on me now!
Now it's Chip's turn. The data we found indicated a chamber to barrel volume ratio of 0.7:1 to get the maximum distance (which is the goal on the golf ball gun). For Chip's gun, that meant a 15' x 1.5" barrel. Chip went to his car and got out the gun and assembled the new barrel for a test fire into a bucket of water (since my yard is only 180' wide). He decided to dry fire (no ammo) the gun from the deck first to display how quiet it is with the longer barrel. I was busy filling the bucket with water when I looked over to watch Chip and BANG...... a huge fireball came from the back of the chamber (this was a typical "Hey ya'll, watch this" moment). Chip bent over holding his hand in obvious pain and I realized this could be serious. I ran over to make sure he still had all his fingers and luckily he did. After a little investigating we noticed that the cap on the back of the gun wasn't secured and flew off when Chip iginited the fuel. Chip was about 2 feet from my workshop when it happened and the explosion slammed his hand into the wall. It only took a few seconds for the swelling to start and I thought he might have had a fracture or two, but fortunately there were no serious injuries.
A few minutes after regaining our composure after that near crisis, we went ahead and shot a golf ball right through a bucket of water. It was very quiet (unlike before with the shorter barrel), but WAY more powerful. We knew a new distance estimate was needed.
Sunday afternoon, Tricia and I headed back out to Chip's house to shoot the improved potato gun and were blown away by the result of the new barrel. The ball literally went out of sight as soon as Chip ignited the fuel. Using the SWAG method (because I wasn't going to be the target again), we estimated the new distance at nearly 1/2 mile. It's impossible to believe until you see it.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Interrogation
A week or so ago, I left work a few minutes early to get a start on some outdoor spring cleaning. I had borrowed a friends pressure washer to clean the brick on the house and decided to go ahead and wash the sidewalk and driveway in the afternoons after work. Typically, I wear some old stained shorts, an old white undershirt, and flip flops when doing yard work and this particular afternoon was no different. I had just gotten done pressure washing the patio around the front door and was completely covered in a mixture of algae and mud. The sun wasn't going to be up much longer so I pressed on covered in muck.
So I started down the front sidewalk and inadvertently disturbed some fire ants. There was little I could do before I had a dozen or so ants unleashing their fury on my legs and feet. I quickly pointed the pressure washer at my legs and knocked them off as quick as I could. The only problem there is a 2600 psi stream of water isn't pleasant at a range of 18 inches. So now I'm covered in muck from the waist up and have little red ant bites all over my legs and some additional red colored irritation from the close range self assault with the pressure washer.
Doing what any man would do in my situation, I decided it was time for a break. I went to my little office fridge I keep in the utility room and grabbed a cold one (because a Coke just wasn't going to cut it today). I walked back to the front and resumed washing the sidewalk.
A few minutes went by and out of the corner of my eye I caught some teenage kids walking up the cul-de-sac (2 boys, 2 girls) with a handbag full of literature. From their conservative dress, it appeared that I was about to have an encounter with some Jehovah's witnesses. I really didn't give it another thought and continued my washing. Once the group discovered that none of my neighbors were home they made a beeline straight to me. I've had lots of experience dealing with Jehovah's witnesses before and knew exactly what to expect. Much to my surprise, I quickly found out that I wasn't dealing with Jehovah's witnesses.
The first kid, probably 14 years old or so, introduced himself as a representative of a local independent baptist church and a Christian. I smiled and reciprocated that I too was a Christian. I could tell from his expression that he had his doubts. Despite being slightly offended by his actions, I was quiet and let him proceed. He went through a small piece of literature outlining the path to salvation while the other three kids stood in the cul-de-sac staring at me. After he finished his spill, I told him I appreciated his effort, but that I'm already a Christian and attend another church in town. At this point, all four kids are giving me this look... like they think I'm lying to get them to leave. I'm starting to feel like I'm on trial for something.
The lead interrorgator then started quizing me on my Christian faith, salvation, etc. At this point my displeasure with this band of crusaders had to be obvious, but I answered his questions and felt pretty good about it. They didn't seem as impressed with me as I was with myself but I guess they decided I was a lost cause and decided to head down the street to terrorize someone else.
I went back to finish washing the sidewalk and noticed most of the muck had started to dry on my skin, the ant bites where starting to swell, and my half empty brew is sitting in plain view. At that point the behavior of the crusaders made sense. They looked in my yard and the first thing that came to their young minds was "Hey, lets save this alcoholic leper!".
So I started down the front sidewalk and inadvertently disturbed some fire ants. There was little I could do before I had a dozen or so ants unleashing their fury on my legs and feet. I quickly pointed the pressure washer at my legs and knocked them off as quick as I could. The only problem there is a 2600 psi stream of water isn't pleasant at a range of 18 inches. So now I'm covered in muck from the waist up and have little red ant bites all over my legs and some additional red colored irritation from the close range self assault with the pressure washer.
Doing what any man would do in my situation, I decided it was time for a break. I went to my little office fridge I keep in the utility room and grabbed a cold one (because a Coke just wasn't going to cut it today). I walked back to the front and resumed washing the sidewalk.
A few minutes went by and out of the corner of my eye I caught some teenage kids walking up the cul-de-sac (2 boys, 2 girls) with a handbag full of literature. From their conservative dress, it appeared that I was about to have an encounter with some Jehovah's witnesses. I really didn't give it another thought and continued my washing. Once the group discovered that none of my neighbors were home they made a beeline straight to me. I've had lots of experience dealing with Jehovah's witnesses before and knew exactly what to expect. Much to my surprise, I quickly found out that I wasn't dealing with Jehovah's witnesses.
The first kid, probably 14 years old or so, introduced himself as a representative of a local independent baptist church and a Christian. I smiled and reciprocated that I too was a Christian. I could tell from his expression that he had his doubts. Despite being slightly offended by his actions, I was quiet and let him proceed. He went through a small piece of literature outlining the path to salvation while the other three kids stood in the cul-de-sac staring at me. After he finished his spill, I told him I appreciated his effort, but that I'm already a Christian and attend another church in town. At this point, all four kids are giving me this look... like they think I'm lying to get them to leave. I'm starting to feel like I'm on trial for something.
The lead interrorgator then started quizing me on my Christian faith, salvation, etc. At this point my displeasure with this band of crusaders had to be obvious, but I answered his questions and felt pretty good about it. They didn't seem as impressed with me as I was with myself but I guess they decided I was a lost cause and decided to head down the street to terrorize someone else.
I went back to finish washing the sidewalk and noticed most of the muck had started to dry on my skin, the ant bites where starting to swell, and my half empty brew is sitting in plain view. At that point the behavior of the crusaders made sense. They looked in my yard and the first thing that came to their young minds was "Hey, lets save this alcoholic leper!".
So what's the fuss?
American International Group, Inc. (AIG) is poised to give out $165 million in bonuses to executives. 73 company employees will receive $1 million or more. It's common practice for large corporations give big bonuses. Most of these bonuses in particular are retention bonuses, meaning that AIG is contractually obligated to pay them. So what's the fuss?
Wait a minute... Is this the same AIG that the Fed took over and dumped in over $170 billion of taxpayer money? So in reality it's the taxpayer paying out the $165 million in bonuses to executives that have run their company in to the ground and posted a $61 billion loss last quarter? WOW! Now that's a job I'd like to have. But the taxpayer footing the bill on that $165 million is tough to swallow. In fact, it's an outrage. However, I rest easy knowing that Washington will have a solution.
Senate Banking Committee Chairman Chris Dodd (D-Conn.) has assured the American public that he'll do whatever is necessary to recoup that $165 million spent on bonuses. It is somewhat ironic that Dodd would get so upset. It was his idea, known as the 'Dodd Amendment', that provides an “exception for contractually obligated bonuses agreed on before Feb. 11, 2009” which exempts the very AIG bonuses Dodd and others are now desperately trying to recoup. Senator Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) took a slightly different approach in suggesting that AIG executives should take a Japanese approach toward accepting responsibility for their role in the collapse by resigning or killing themselves. This guy may be onto something.
After doing a little more digging, I fell into some more "interesting" AIG payouts. Now it's important that you keep in mind that Washington (me and you) now owns AIG. It turns out that AIG is using taxpayer money to payoff obligations it made insuring bad debt from a lot of US banks (many who have received TARP bailout money as well).
Call me crazy, but it seems like the 'fuss' is pointed in the wrong direction. I agree that paying bonuses to executives that failed sucks, but paying them to failed European banks really chaps my... well, you know. It might just be me, but it sure seems that 'the fuss' being made by Washington over the bonuses is just a distraction from the real fuss.
Wait a minute... Is this the same AIG that the Fed took over and dumped in over $170 billion of taxpayer money? So in reality it's the taxpayer paying out the $165 million in bonuses to executives that have run their company in to the ground and posted a $61 billion loss last quarter? WOW! Now that's a job I'd like to have. But the taxpayer footing the bill on that $165 million is tough to swallow. In fact, it's an outrage. However, I rest easy knowing that Washington will have a solution.
Senate Banking Committee Chairman Chris Dodd (D-Conn.) has assured the American public that he'll do whatever is necessary to recoup that $165 million spent on bonuses. It is somewhat ironic that Dodd would get so upset. It was his idea, known as the 'Dodd Amendment', that provides an “exception for contractually obligated bonuses agreed on before Feb. 11, 2009” which exempts the very AIG bonuses Dodd and others are now desperately trying to recoup. Senator Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) took a slightly different approach in suggesting that AIG executives should take a Japanese approach toward accepting responsibility for their role in the collapse by resigning or killing themselves. This guy may be onto something.
After doing a little more digging, I fell into some more "interesting" AIG payouts. Now it's important that you keep in mind that Washington (me and you) now owns AIG. It turns out that AIG is using taxpayer money to payoff obligations it made insuring bad debt from a lot of US banks (many who have received TARP bailout money as well).
- Goldman Sachs - $12.9 billion
- Merrill Lynch - $6.8 billion
- Bank of America - $5.2 billion
- Citigroup - $2.3 billion
- Wachovia - $1.5 billion
- Societe Generale - $11.9 billion
- Deutsche Bank - $11.8 billion
- Barclays - $8.5 billion
Call me crazy, but it seems like the 'fuss' is pointed in the wrong direction. I agree that paying bonuses to executives that failed sucks, but paying them to failed European banks really chaps my... well, you know. It might just be me, but it sure seems that 'the fuss' being made by Washington over the bonuses is just a distraction from the real fuss.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Here we go...
Inspired by a colleague and a friend, I've decided to give this a try. After all, one more opinion can't hurt right? So instead of risking offense and embarrassment to everyone within earshot, I'll try to keep it limited to those that dare frequent this blog. I tend to be very free with my thoughts on subjects dear to me, but I've caught myself being more guarded in recent years for a variety of reasons. However, now that I have my own little world, the gloves are off!
What to expect? To be honest, I haven't given it a great deal of thought. With that said, it's probably a safe assumption that I'll stick to what I know and hopefully that will be enough to keep to content fresh. If that doesn't pan out, I'll just have to resort to plan B (plan B?).
What not to expect? Political correctness. I'm not even completely sure what that means, but I've been told that I have none. Writing skills....... mine are pathetic. I'm an engineer, not Ernest Hemingway. I tend to have very strong opinions so don't expect me to handle any topic with kid gloves.
Comments are welcome, but let's keep it PG. If your comments/opinions are good, I will likely write them off as my own later. If your comments suck, well...... we'll cross that bridge when the time comes.
What to expect? To be honest, I haven't given it a great deal of thought. With that said, it's probably a safe assumption that I'll stick to what I know and hopefully that will be enough to keep to content fresh. If that doesn't pan out, I'll just have to resort to plan B (plan B?).
What not to expect? Political correctness. I'm not even completely sure what that means, but I've been told that I have none. Writing skills....... mine are pathetic. I'm an engineer, not Ernest Hemingway. I tend to have very strong opinions so don't expect me to handle any topic with kid gloves.
Comments are welcome, but let's keep it PG. If your comments/opinions are good, I will likely write them off as my own later. If your comments suck, well...... we'll cross that bridge when the time comes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)