§1. Shaving safety factors: roof joists and the X-33 [00:02]
I'll lecture today and then Dr. Belmar will do tomorrow. I want to talk first about shaving of safety factors, and then about the opposite — where people tend to bulk up safety factors, and why they do that.
On shaving safety factors: I've mentioned roof joists a couple of times. In the mid 80s, computer programs got to the point where they could calculate the stresses, and rather than having a uniform beam, designers could put doubler plates on these things and still meet the code of 1.67 safety factor — five-thirds times the expected stresses. The problem is the computer programs couldn't deal with asymmetries in erection. They also couldn't deal with the fact that some of the joist welds might not be any good. So you get a big heavy snowstorm that exceeds the expected snow load, a number of things come together, and the roof falls in — hopefully no one's around to get hurt other than property damage.
I had one case like this. It was in a battery plant in Pennsylvania, in a very heavy snowstorm — most of the plant was closed. When the thing caved in, there's lots of plastic in a battery plant, and I think it went through a natural gas line. It was a big plant, about the size of a football field. The fire trucks couldn't get in because of the snow — six feet of snow on the ground in Pennsylvania, which is not normal. They sat on the highway about half a mile away and watched it burn down. It's surrounded by snow, but all the fire did was melt the snow and get the ashes a little wet. Pretty big property loss, but no one got hurt.
The X-33 space plane I've mentioned a couple of times. They had a factor of two safety, but they had a manufacturing problem they knew about. So they did all these calculations and fracture mechanics and said, "Oh, we think we're okay, we have a 1.05 safety factor." Well, they didn't. Something else went wrong in the thermal stresses when they froze this liquid nitrogen tank, and the thing popped open. They ended up canceling a $1.3 billion project because of this failure. No one got hurt. The neat thing — they built this in the hangar where the F-117 original stealth fighter had been built, out at Lockheed Martin Skunk Works. So I got to go visit the hangar. If you want a two-story carbon fiber composite that cost $50 million, I know where you can probably buy the second one cheap from NASA. They didn't have a whole lot of use for it afterwards.
§2. Bulking up: the Liberty ships and the toughness creep [03:35]
The bulking up of safety factors is another matter. The classic example is the Liberty ships. [Tom puts up a slide of the SS Schenectady, fractured in port — rotated upside down on the screen.] There's the classic picture of the Schenectady. It was brand new, sitting in port. They used to build these things in less than two weeks from laying the keel to floating them out. In World War II — this is actually a T1 tanker rather than a true Liberty ship, but the T1 tankers and Liberty ships had basically the same construction, except some carried oil. It had a crack all the way through. There's another picture of the Esso where the same thing happened, except the Esso was sitting out in the middle of the ocean when it happened. It's a lot safer to have it happen in dry dock.
In 1946 the Navy did an investigation and found the reason was these things didn't have enough toughness. Back in the 1880s, people learned to do tensile tests — you could pull a piece of steel and measure how much strength it had, in terms of force of fracture. But what they didn't really realize until the Liberty ships was that you should also be interested in the energy of fracture. If something doesn't have enough toughness, which is a measure of the energy of fracture, then a notch can cause something to fracture quite rapidly and catastrophically. The example I always give of the effect of a notch: you can pull on a piece of paper with pounds of force, but if you put a notch in it, it takes ounces of force to rip it.
For the last 105 years, people have looked at Charpy tests for the effects of notches. We don't have any Charpy machines around here anymore — there actually was one when I was a student. It takes a lot of money to run Charpy tests, and it's not something you do at a university much anymore. It's just a calibrated hammer on a pendulum. You put a specimen down here — a little piece of steel, one centimeter on the side, 10 centimeters long, with a two-millimeter notch. You hit it with the hammer and you measure the rebound on the pendulum. If no energy is absorbed in the fracture, the hammer swings all the way up to the same height as the starting position. If energy is absorbed, it won't swing up as far. If the steel is really tough, you'll stop the hammer. If you do that, you should recalibrate your whole machine to see if your anvils have been deformed. That costs about $500 to $1,000 to get another set of calibration samples.
[Tom passes Charpy specimens around.] This is one that stopped the machine. This one looks like it stopped the machine because it didn't hit it quite square. Here's one that's very brittle, didn't absorb much energy. There's a tough one that stopped the machine. Here are some that are fairly brittle. This one is 300 joules of energy, this one's 22 joules.
So the Charpy test had been around for 50 years, but it wasn't a design criterion. After the Liberty ships, in the 1946 report, people started worrying. They went out and measured the plates where the cracks had started. Of 4,700 ships built during World War II, 970 — 22 percent — had major casualties involving fractures. 24 vessels sustained complete fracture of the strength deck, which is the top deck. If you have something like that, fatigue could take it the rest of the way. They found that all the ones with major failures had Charpy energy less than 10 foot-pounds.
So what do you do? Put a safety factor on it. From then on they wouldn't build Navy ships and most other structures unless they had 15 foot-pounds. By 1960 the Coast Guard decided that wasn't enough — they made it 20 foot-pounds. By the time I started working in the early 70s, it was not only 20 foot-pounds, but you had to take Charpy specimens at the weld metal, the fusion line, and three millimeters from the fusion line. So now you had to take four specimens where you used to take one. And now it was 20 foot-pounds — double what the Navy found for the Liberty ships was the threshold for critical fractures.
§3. Quincy Shipyard and the runoff-tab game [10:55]
However, down at Quincy Shipyard — which is no longer there, but they built ships during World War I and certainly were busy in World War II building Liberty ships — in the mid 70s when I worked for a steel company, they were building liquid natural gas tankers. They put in a mammoth crane to lift these big aluminum spheres, up to six to eight inches thick, made in South Carolina and brought up by barge. The crane would drop five of these into the hull. The skirt — basically a cylinder holding the sphere — had to be a low-temperature steel, minus 60 Fahrenheit fracture toughness. There wasn't a really good steel available, so I was working on developing a new steel for that skirt.
They were using grade A537 steel that they would normalize and temper — you stick it in the furnace and let it air cool to get a finer grain size, giving you better toughness and strength. To get their 20 foot-pounds, they found about half the plates had to be double tempered. They'd roll the plate, measure the toughness, it'd be less than 20 foot-pounds after normalizing and tempering. So they'd put it back in and renormalize and re-temper for an even finer grain size. After a double temper, most plates would pass. The average passing toughness after a double temper was 20.5 foot-pounds. A few did a triple temper — it wasn't economical to temper a fourth time. Every now and then they'd get a plate that had 30 foot-pounds as the basic toughness.
And what would they do? The shipyard would mark those plates and cut them up into the Charpy samples. This is how they could pass. Because the weld and the heat-affected zone would typically degrade the toughness, you'd fail at the fusion line or the one-millimeter position unless you started with something really good. If you started with 20.5 and lost very much, you'd flunk when you actually made the weld. So you weld the big plate on the ship, and you had what they called runoff tabs — little plates, probably six inches by twelve, where at the end of the weld they'd just continue the weld onto the tab. They'd cut this off and machine it for fracture toughness. The base plate might have 20.5, the tab might have 30, and the tab would pass — and the actual ship weld never really got tested. Isn't that a neat thing? That's the way the test was done, and that's how they made it meet the Coast Guard spec — which is maybe why the Coast Guard found people were playing games like this. So they went from 15 to 20, because people will find ways around things.
None of you are parents yet, but you will find children will learn ways around whatever discipline the parents use. Yes?
Student: [inaudible — asking about variability in toughness]
Higher and lower — well, this was in the days before low-sulfur steel was common. Nowadays we make low-sulfur steel all the time. In the mid 70s, when we made steel, it was what we called regular sulfur steel, which is 0.025 sulfur. Nowadays you can get 0.005 sulfur, five times less, at no extra cost. If you wanted to pay a 10 percent premium for your steel in 1975, they could lower the sulfur, but the U.S. steel companies wanted that 10 percent premium because they had to do extra processing. It was sort of a shock when the Japanese started selling garden-variety A36 plate on the West Coast that was low sulfur for no increase in price, in the mid 70s. In the United States we were getting a 10 percent premium and telling you it was ultra-high-quality steel, and the Japanese were selling the garden-variety steel. They had built brand new steel mills then and just incorporated low-sulfur processing into the whole thing. They didn't make anything but low sulfur. Nowadays everybody makes low sulfur.
So it was primarily the sulfur. You get a heat with low sulfur, you get another heat with just the right amount of residuals so you get the finest grain size. There's natural variability — toughness going from 15 to 30 foot-pounds, you can still have that range of variability. The thing is, what's your mean? When your mean was only half a foot-pound above your minimum, that's not good. If we were at 30 foot-pounds mean, we never would have had a problem. And they never had a problem on these things, because if you actually look at the fracture mechanics, 20 foot-pounds was a lot more than you really needed.
§4. The Alaska Pipeline and the gas-pipeline fracture problem [17:02]
The safety factors had been creeping up. Right as I was leaving, they had just finished building the Alaska Pipeline. There was still a big fury in the press about what if we have a fracture in the pipeline. I remember as a young assistant professor giving lectures and explaining to the students that the oil company has more interest in not having a big fracture in the pipeline than any of the environmentalists do. If you've got two million barrels a day coming down from Prudhoe Bay to Anchorage, and back then it might have been thirty dollars a barrel, that's $60 million a day. Today that would be twice a hundred, so it's going to be $200 million a day coming through that pipeline. If you have a fracture — the fracture in a pressurized pipeline might be 100 feet long when it pops open. Maybe less, maybe only 30 feet long. But you can't just go down to the hardware store and pick up another piece of pipe. If it's in the middle of nowhere in Alaska, you can't get the piece of pipe in storage in Anchorage to the site overnight. You don't FedEx a 40-foot length of pipe, and then you've got to get the welders from Tulsa up there and the heavy equipment.
If it were the military and national security, you'd be airlifting things on C-5As. The oil companies get to almost that — I've seen Learjets flying parts around the world because of some failure. The dollars per day you're losing easily runs in the tens of millions, sometimes hundreds of millions per day. You could lose billions. So the oil companies had done everything they could to prevent a brittle fracture. But they were starting to talk about building a gas pipeline, because we still have as much gas up on the North Slope today as all the oil we brought back from there over the last 40 years. The problem is you can't put gas in the oil pipeline — there's different fracture criteria. An oil pipeline is basically hydraulically loaded, it's a fluid, and the stored energy isn't very great. So you might get a 30-foot or 100-foot crack as the crack runs, and that's it.
In a gas pipeline, it turns out the decompression velocity of the gas is slower than the speed of brittle fracture. So the brittle fracture is always pressurized — it's running faster than the decompression velocity, so the tip of the crack is always seeing full pressure. They've had cracks in smaller pipelines, like a six-inch pipeline, run for 30 miles. You don't even store enough pipe for a 30-mile fracture, and how long would it take to replace 30 miles of pipeline?
So they were doing a number of things. You could put crack arrestors in — basically a piece of steel maybe 18 inches long, a ring twice as thick, made of super-tough steel. A710 was the one we used to talk about — a copper-bearing, highly alloyed steel, super tough, a couple hundred foot-pounds. If a running crack ran into that, even though it was a brittle fracture, it would slow down and hopefully stop. The other approach: why don't we just get the base plate to a high enough toughness? In the pipeline steels, with low sulfur from the Japanese and controlled rolling technology at the time, we could get pretty good toughness, in the 40 and 50 foot-pound range.
By the way, joules is 1.33 times the foot-pounds. So 20 joules is 15 foot-pounds; 60 foot-pounds is about 80 joules. They were looking for 80 foot-pounds in the plate to stop a running crack. Except if you're at 80 foot-pounds, you never get a brittle fracture anyway, so it never made sense to me why they needed that. But they were trying to develop plate with 80 foot-pounds, not the 10 the Navy originally found necessary. So over about 40 years we went from 10 foot-pounds to 15 to 20 — at multiple locations people learned to cheat on that — and then to where they were really concerned. It wasn't a question of cheating, this was a question of trying to make sure you didn't have a failure. Today I think we probably do have plates that are 80 foot-pounds, but 35 years ago that was still a challenge. There's the creep of increasing the safety factors.
§5. Helicopters and the V-22 Osprey [22:58]
There are some other safety factors that creep up on us. Helicopters. The first helicopter, Igor Sikorsky, in the 1930s — 1932 or 1936 — flew a helicopter. It went up to about 30 feet in the air for 60 seconds and came back down at a reasonable speed. When you're developing new aircraft, you're often just barely able to move the person. If you look at man-powered flight over in the AeroAstro department, they get a lightweight bicyclist and put him in as the man-powered flight, and that's sort of it.
The original helicopters in the Korean War: two men in the cockpit and a stretcher on the tail boom to bring back an injured soldier. You could lift three people. Nowadays we have helicopters that can lift pretty heavy vehicles — the Army's got heavy-lift helicopters that can lift maybe not an M1 tank, but pretty heavy vehicles. How many people have ever flown a helicopter? One? Two more. It's interesting when you get in a helicopter — if you start touching the doors, it's flimsy. It's composite material, really light. I wouldn't try to put my fist through it — it's probably strong enough that you might hurt your hand. But it's not very heavy and not very stiff.
First time I ever got in a helicopter I thought, I don't know if I like this. But I've worked on a lot of helicopter engine and rotor things, and when I've done the stress analysis I find those parts actually have about a factor of 10 safety. They're really much bulkier than they need to be. The helicopter is sort of an anomaly: the shell where the people go is lightweight and probably doesn't have a safety factor much more than 1.5, but the moving components that keep you up in the air have tremendous safety factors. Because lots of things can go wrong in a helicopter, and it's not very forgiving.
In a regular plane you can glide. If you lose your engine, you can get the right slope and the wings still develop lift, and you can find a landing spot. A helicopter has something similar called auto-rotation. If you have enough forward momentum, you can tilt the helicopter a little and let the rotors free-wheel — the wind coming up through the rotors slows you down and brings you to the ground. You see this on little kids' toys with rotors that float down. The problem is, if you're in a hover, you have no forward momentum to push air through the rotor disc, and you just fall like a rock. With a structure that has no real crashworthiness, it's not a good day.
The most expensive helicopter you can think of — we've mentioned it before — the V-22 Osprey. [Tom struggles with a slide that has gone off-screen.] This is interesting, I've never had this happen. The V-22 Osprey is a tilt-rotor, dual-rotor aircraft. It's both a helicopter and an airplane.
The Defense Department got interested in a different type of helicopter after the Iranians took over the American Embassy in 1979. They tried to rescue the hostages and the helicopters weren't successful. Helicopters tend to announce their arrival — they're noisy, inherent with the blade whipping around. If you're moving forward, the tip of the advancing blade approaches the speed of sound and gets very noisy; the receding tip is not. If you tilt the rotor and turn it into a rotor for an airplane, the tip speed never gets close to the speed of sound, and they can be much quieter.
The XV-15 was a prototype NASA was developing with Bell. A tilt-rotor, two-blade, two-disc design — you could rotate the rotors down and fly in airplane mode. The advantage: instead of being limited to 180 mile-an-hour airspeed, you could go 300 miles an hour, and quietly. What was the famous military action in the past two years where they used an Osprey? The assassination of bin Laden. They had other helicopters — they said Blackhawks, but Blackhawks like you've never seen, stealth Blackhawks, classified that we even have them. But the one that brought the SEAL team in was basically an Osprey.
The Osprey can still auto-rotate even if it loses one engine, because it has a drive shaft between the two rotors. If one engine goes out, the torque from the working engine drives across the shaft to the other transmission, and you can maintain flight on both rotors. Well, on Ship 4 — I think it was Ship 4 — it was coming in to Patuxent River Naval Air Station after going through six months of environmental tests at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida. They have a huge chamber at Eglin where the Air Force can put whole planes in and cause snow, rain, hurricane-force winds — an environmental test chamber large enough for a full-size aircraft.
Ship 4 had basically seen its full useful life in those six months. It was coming in, and a number of generals and others were there to welcome it back to Patuxent River. It was taking a victory lap around the field. It had come in airplane mode and was moving the cells up to helicopter mode to land. One of the engines caught fire — actually the engine didn't catch fire, there was a hydraulic leak that caught fire and got into the engine, blew up. They crashed and eight men died, in front of all the spectators engaged to welcome them home.
The reason they had a problem — you should have been able to lose one engine, but they had to make this thing super light. This was the first aircraft built essentially out of all composite, because, just like Sikorsky's first helicopter, there wasn't a whole lot of payload left over if you made it out of conventional aluminum. Some people would say this thing never would have flown if it weren't for composites. You touch the side wall and you say, this is flimsy. It's all carbon fiber composite. And the drive shaft between the two rotors was also carbon fiber composite. In the engine fire, the drive shaft burned up within seconds — it did try to transfer torque, but it tore itself in two. Afterwards they redesigned it and switched the drive shafts to titanium, increasing the safety factor against fire. It's not that they hadn't thought about fire — they just didn't particularly think of the engine becoming a fire-breathing dragon, which is essentially what happened.
§6. The Boeing 747-400 catalytic converter and the stupid spec [34:50]
There's another reason for bulking up safety factors. Around 1990, I'd taken a trip to Japan, and I got back in my office and had a note to call Engelhard — which makes platinum. They needed me to come down because they were making titanium housings for catalytic converters going on the new Boeing 747-400. The 747-400 was a lighter-weight 747, redesigned to take thousands of pounds off so they could put thousands of pounds more fuel and fly direct flights to further distances. The first time I ever went to Japan, we always had to stop and refuel in Anchorage, Alaska — you couldn't make it all the way to Tokyo from the West Coast, or even the East Coast. Now you can get direct flights on the new 787 from New York to Tokyo, which we never could before. As planes get lighter with more fuel and more fuel-efficient engines, you can go almost halfway around the globe — which is as far as you need to go, unless you're the U.S. Air Force.
I actually asked, when I was on a committee, why does the Air Force need to go all the way around the globe? They said, because we assume we're not going to have any air bases anywhere except the United States. We're going to be kicked out of the rest of the world, so if we take off from the United States, we have to land in the United States.
Where's the catalytic converter on a Boeing jet? It's in the air you breathe. At 40,000 feet, a significant fraction of the air is ozone. If you breathe ozone for very long, you get a tremendous headache and it's not healthy. So they have catalytic converters for the air you breathe. On a big aircraft like this commercial 747, they have redundant systems — two systems, two catalytic converters. They're a pretty good size, eight or ten inches across and about this big. Just like the catalytic converter on a car, it passes air through to get rid of the ozone.
Engelhard was making it with a titanium tube coming in, then the catalytic converter space, which had to be larger diameter to hold the converter. So you had to make a weld here and a weld here. [Tom sketches the weld locations.] And it's on titanium, about 40 thousandths of an inch thick. Not very heavy. No real pressure — one atmosphere is the maximum it would ever see, probably less. The tube was about four inches, and the converter section was eight or ten inches. Boeing had an x-ray spec: you could have no flaw larger than 10 thousandths of an inch.
Anything greater than 10 thousandths of an inch on x-ray would reject the weld, and you could only repair it once — so you got two shots. They were making these gas tungsten arc welds, not a big deal to make, but 10 thousandths is a very small flaw. They were taking x-rays and failing half the welds. If you have to make four welds, and you only get one repair weld, what's the probability of getting one of these out? Pretty low — two of them are going to fail, and one of those two is going to fail again, and you can't repair it after that. They'd been working for weeks, and it was holding up the whole flight of the new 747-400, because they didn't have the catalytic converters. They were way behind schedule because of this Boeing spec.
Wait a second, folks. This is only carrying air. If it leaks air — first of all, it's pressurized air, so the leak is mostly out, not in. And even if a little air leaked in, how much ozone would be in that if it got past the catalytic converter? I asked, where did you get the spec? They said it was a Boeing spec. I said, it makes no sense. The only way it made sense is, that is the smallest flaw you can reliably find. If you magnify your x-rays by a factor of five, you can find about a 50-thousandths flaw — actually, you can reliably detect a 50-thousandths flaw at about a 50 percent level. Whoever wrote this specification for Boeing had just picked out the most stringent requirement they could think of. It had nothing to do with the actual application of this part.
It was just a stupid spec. I said, why don't you go back to Boeing and tell them this is stupid. Well, in the Boeing bureaucracy that would take a year and a half, and you probably wouldn't even win, because there'll be someone unwilling to give up CYA — to say it's okay, all you're doing is leaking a little air into an airstream. It wasn't going to blow up, there wasn't enough stress on it, no way it was going to be harmful. But that's what the spec was, and no one was willing to tell Boeing the spec was stupid.
§7. MAP gas cylinders and the plumber with the cigar [42:12]
Another reason for bulking up safety factors: MAP gas cylinders. [Tom holds up a MAP gas cylinder.] These are one pound — they have about one pound of gas. It's okay to store them indoors. It's not okay to store a 20-pound cylinder, like on your gas grill, indoors. Does anybody know why you can store these indoors and you can't store the 20-pound propane indoors? If this leaks in a room 10 by 10, a thousand cubic feet, I could throw this across the room — burst it open — and you might burn up that corner of the room. Anyone standing there would be burned fairly badly, but I wouldn't be burned 10 feet away. You might blow the windows out from overpressure, but there's not enough gas in this to blow up the whole room. With a 20-pound cylinder you could have an explosion that would blow up the whole building.
That's why plumbers can have these torches. This has to hold at the temperatures you'd expect — 150 degrees Fahrenheit, you don't expect them hotter — and no more than 130 psi. They have to test them at 300 psi or so, a pretty good safety factor. If you want to blow one of these up under gas pressure, it'll take closer to 900 psi. Why? Because it's only about 30 thousandths inch thick steel. You can't make it any thinner — you'd dent it with your fingernail. Just the inherent strength of the material gives you plenty of pressure strength. Much bigger safety factor than you'd ever need.
Sometimes these things fail. Why? This particular one — [Tom shows a bent cylinder] — we tried to torque it off and it took 80 foot-pounds, which is two people pulling on a reasonably long bar, and we bent it doing that. These things do get bent. In one case it was bent by a plumber who was lying on his stomach on the grass by the curb, working on a water pipe. He was going to solder the water pipe. Cigar in his mouth, torch in his left hand, cell phone in his right hand, talking on the cell phone, trying to solder this pipe. The elbow started slipping off, so he started using the cylinder as a hammer to knock the thing back on. We're not sure that's actually one event, but out of the hole — there was a woman walking her granddaughter on the sidewalk about a block away in a residential neighborhood, and she sees an eight-foot blast of flame shooting up in his face as he's looking in there with his lit cigar and his cell phone. Is that the cylinder's fault? Probably not. But he collected a fair amount, because his injuries were bad — not from a jury but from settlement.
People throw these too. A guy will be doing his plumbing, he's got it lit on the table, he reaches over and misses, grabs too high, and throws it to the ground. With about a 45-mile-an-hour throw — not a real fastball, but a good get-it-out-of-my-hand throw — you can hit the ground and bend this thing over. [Tom shows another bent cylinder.] This one's bent but it doesn't have a crack. It has a little crack but it doesn't go all the way through. You need about a 25- or 30-degree bend to actually split it. So as far as overpressure, it's got a safety valve. But they can be abused, as tools go.
§8. Sprinkler heads and corrugated stainless steel gas tubing [47:01]
Another tool that gets abused fairly often — [Tom holds up a fire sprinkler head.] — a fire sprinkler. In some hotel rooms they have these sitting out sideways, or in the ceiling, and they have signs around them saying don't hang your clothes from this. People love to take a coat hanger and hang it up — they figure this is a handy hook. It turns out this is a precision piece of equipment. It cannot be stored above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, because some of them use Wood's metal as the melting sensor at 160 degrees. If it stays above 100 degrees for longer than a certain time, it'll creep, and these things can fail at less than their rated temperature. The National Fire Protection Association code says I shall not use or store these above 100 degrees. They have to ship them in refrigerated trucks in many cases, because it can get hot in a truck in Texas, where this one was made.
They come in an egg-crate type of packaging, so they're not just thrown around like typical plumbing components. However, some plumbers don't realize that, and they throw these around and damage the mechanism. You can jam it so it doesn't go off when you want it to.
Another safety-factor bulking-up — I mentioned this the very first day of class. [Tom holds up corrugated stainless steel tubing, then a sample with a hole from a lightning strike.] People never even thought about lightning strikes on these things. They gave you the Ben Franklin lightning protection system. They used to use black iron pipe. If lightning arcs to a black iron pipe, you might melt 10 or 20 or 30 thousandths deep, a little divot, but you won't penetrate, because it's a tenth of an inch thick. The lightning protection code says anything 3/16 of an inch thick is considered self-protecting. Officially this corrugated stainless tubing isn't that thick, but no one had ever seen one perforated by lightning before — well, we get two or three hundred a year that are perforated by lightning.
People never looked at the code. When they developed these in the 1990s, they didn't worry about the problem until about 1998, when they started hearing rumors of failures. By 2001 they knew it was lightning for sure, and they started developing an improved product. [Tom holds up the second-generation product.] It's the same corrugated stainless steel, 10 thousandths of an inch thick. It's got carbon-filled plastic instead of yellow plastic. They had to get permission to make it black, because the international fuel-gas color is yellow. Fuel gas tends to be yellow — propane sometimes red or blue — but in general yellow. If you see yellow piping in a room, don't start sticking nails through it.
First, they filled it with carbon so it was slightly conductive, and they went from a tenth of a coulomb to about five coulombs. A coulomb is the measure of energy in a lightning strike. A typical lightning strike is three to five coulombs. The original stuff was good for one-fiftieth of that. The new black stuff was good for basically the average strike. [Tom holds up the third-generation product.] This one, which has perforated aluminum sheet, is supposedly good for 80 coulombs. There aren't a lot of lightning strikes more than 80 coulombs, so this is probably a safe product. But it took them about 10 years to come up with something that won't burn down your house. In the meantime there's a billion feet of this out there, and they get two or three hundred fires a year from it.
So bulking up safety standards in this case, because they didn't have a good enough standard, and they went through several iterations and finally ended up with something that probably is safe. For a long time they were selling the original product eight percent less than the second-generation product, which was a dumb thing to do. If you actually told people you had something 50 times safer and you were selling it for eight percent less — you can buy something where you're dead in a lightning storm, or for eight percent more buy something you might be safe with — which would you buy? It wasn't until September a year ago they took this junk off the market in North America. You can still buy it anywhere else you want. But anyway — Simone will be here tomorrow.