Death by Convenience

12 08 2012

You’re driving down a local highway in your Dodge Ram, and it’s raining.  We could argue about your choice in vehicles, but that’s not really important.  It just happens that a Dodge Ram is parked in a bad and annoying place right now, and I had the time and audacity to go outside and take its measurements, for want of a more amusing pastime.  Did you know that the side door is two and a half feet high, and four feet long?  You don’t care.  Of course you don’t care, because you’re too busy trying to steer through the rain.  It doesn’t help that your tires lost traction, and you barreled down an embankment right in front of a bridge, landing you in the river.  Naturally, your first inclination is to open the door and escape your rapidly sinking vehicle.  What’s that you say?  You can’t open the door?  Oh, yes, well, that brings us back to the dimensions of your door.  Did you know that water weighs about 62.4 pounds per cubic foot?  Please don’t yell at me; I’m only trying to help.

Well, fortunately for those of us who never found use for calculus beyond our college years, your door is roughly rectangular.  Otherwise, we’d have to go back and re-learn all that…stuff.  This should help in making the calculations simple.  With the waterline sitting just below the level of the side window, the average depth of the submerged part of the door is about a foot and a quarter.  Because water weighs 62.4 pounds per cubic foot, a depth of one and a quarter feet gives an average pressure of about 78 pounds per square foot (62.4 lbs/ft3 × 1.25 ft).  Because your door is four feet long and two and a half feet tall, giving you an area of 10 square feet, that pressure comes out to 780 pounds.  Fortunately, your hinge takes half of that weight, so you only need to push with the force of 390 pounds.  You can do that, can’t you?  You shouldn’t say those things!  Children could be listening!

If your truck were turned on its side, and you had four and one-third 180-pound men standing on the door, the effect would be the same.  At least, the effect of trying to open the door would be the same, not including the problems associated with hanging sideways.  Never mind the psychological effect of having that third of a man sitting on the door.  I think, now that I imagine it, if I had four men and a third of a man standing on the door of my overturned vehicle, I might consider staying inside and taking my chances with the water, but I digress.  Most people don’t have enough strength in their left arm and left leg to open a door at 390 pounds of force.  That’s about 860 kilograms, for the few of you out there who actually use the metric system…all 6.7 billion of you.  Well, your real problem is that your door opens outward, against the water.  If your door opened straight up, like a Lamborghini, then it wouldn’t be a problem, except for the electrical short-circuit preventing your door from opening at all.

Then, there’s the problem with your second avenue of escape, the side window.  Did you get the option with the motorized window?  You did?  Sorry to hear that.  Well, it was certainly nice while it lasted.  You push the up button, and the window goes up.  You push the down button, and the window goes down.  It’s so much more convenient than having to turn a crank.  Besides, people look at you funny when they get in your car and see that medieval thing hanging off your door.  Next thing they know, you’ll be going outside to start the car with a crank on the front of the grill.  Granted, it doesn’t do you much good, now.  The water shorted the circuit, and the window won’t go down.  It wouldn’t be so bad if your window happened to already be “rolled” down, but people usually do most of their sliding off of roads during storms and freezing weather, which is the least likely time for them to be driving with their windows rolled down.  Although, there was a guy whose door latch froze solid in cold weather, and the door wouldn’t stay closed unless he held it closed, so he drove around with his arm out the window, hanging on to the outside of the door to keep it from taking out a motorcyclist during a curve to the right.  That must have been fun for him, but you’re not him.  You had no problem getting the thing shut.  Now, you just have to get it open, and soon.

Blame the auto manufacturers.  All of their cleverness produced the unsafe situation.  In fact, ironic that it is, they would have needed to be less smart to do the smarter thing, which is to make you crank your own blasted window down.  Then, they would probably sell fewer cars, because the number of customers lost to competition would be less than the number of customers lost to the Susquehanna River (and others), if they had used the electric version.  I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I bet it isn’t “Man, I’m glad I have electric windows.  They were so worth it!”  What’s that you say?  No, I can’t write that in my blog.  I’m trying to keep this PG-rated.

Well, we’ve killed so many of our own babies for the sake of convenience, that I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that we’d occasionally even kill ourselves for it.  Look behind you at the rear window.  Oops, I guess this model doesn’t come with a little rear window for you to attempt to squeeze your fat torso through.  If it had, then you’d still be stuck, because, for the sake of convenience, you may have dined at a few too many fast-food joints.  Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  You’re big-boned.  Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway, because I just looked outside and checked for myself.  You don’t have a little rear window.  What you really needed was a sunroof to escape through.  What’s that?  It would have been an electric sunroof?  Yes, I suppose it would have been, and if it had been a convertible, you wouldn’t have to get out and manually fold it back, either.  That would have been too much trouble.

I’m looking out my living room, now, and I’d say you’ve still got a few seconds to go.  I suppose I’ll call for emergency assistance.  I’d go out there and try to play the hero for you, but…it’s just so much more convenient to make a phone call and let someone else take care of it.

The moral of this story is this: if you’re going to drive a vehicle with electrically operated windows, then, for pity’s sake, do yourself a favor and take the trouble to buy a window breaker, and keep it with you and accessible (and hope a police officer doesn’t charge you with having a weapon within reach while driving).  Window breakers are razor-sharp diamond-edged double-bladed chisels, essentially.  You need them in most places on this continent, except, perhaps, southern California, where a “river” is typically nothing but a dry concrete channel.  However, if you happen to live in the city/ seasonal lake called Carson, then the storm drains are so solidly plugged by the convenience store trash of people who couldn’t bear the inconvenience of taking their own garbage home and putting it in the can, that every time it rains, you find yourself up to your neck in water, even if you stay on the road, then you might consider taking along not only a window breaker, but also a self-inflating life raft capable of holding you and whatever homeless indigent floats your way.  If you give me a ride, I’ll buy you a coffee as soon as it’s convenient.

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Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”

31 08 2008

Five days and twenty-three hours.

That’s how long it took those avian special agents to find my new car. With my old car, I could go for months without so much as a drop of their uric acid wonder touching my car, but, then. they probably sensed that I didn’t care about that car. That car had a nice protective coat of dirt, with just enough cleared away for me to see my way down the road. That car was a Jeep disguised as a Ford Focus. At least, that’s how I treated it. Every now and then, I’d nearly get us stuck way out in the middle of nowhere on a rugged truck trail with no help in sight. Once, we came upon a small creek crossing the road, where deer looked up at us as if to say, “What the heck are you doing here?” I saw the telltale signs of a high-clearance vehicle getting stuck, complete with the broken planks that had been shoved under the tires and the frayed rope tied to a stick that people used to pull it out. Never mind that the ruts it had carved were deeper than my wheels were tall. Yes, folks, I still attempted to pass. But that was the old car. Something inside me wanted to make this new relationship work where all the past ones had failed. Sure, when the newness wears off I’ll probably stop treating her like a lady, but, for crying out loud…

My car is not a toilet!

Fortunately, a wet rag was all it took to thwart the efforts of those cloacas with wings.

I mean, seriously, how would they like it if I tried to sneak up on them and do my thing on them? Yeah, not so funny anymore, is it?.