Gas and Pollution- The True Solution

by G. E. Shuman

My grandfather Shuman was an inventor. He retired from his local Maine telephone company in the early nineteen-sixties, and spent the next thirty years or so casually puttering away in the big barn attached to his home. I still recall, vividly, the messy, mixed-up workshop out there, with baby food jars filled with screws and nuts, and nails pounded into walls and beams just to hold many old, odd metal parts, saved for the express purpose of conjuring up many useful things that most people will never even know about.

Gramp Shuman invented no new scientific wonders. Not one. The things he made were for convenience and enjoyment, HIS convenience and enjoyment. As I remember it, Gramp could make almost anything out of almost nothing. His projects were sort of simple home improvements for the retired, thinking, sedentary man. I recall that he once put two wheels on the back of his outdoor chaise lounger, before anyone else seemed to have thought of doing that, so that he could more easily drag the thing to the sunniest spot on his lawn, or to the best sniper-position from which to shoot squirrels with his BB gun. And then there was the old hair brush that he screwed onto the end of his wooden tool box, so that his cat could scratch itself when Gramp didn't have the itch to do it. (I recall once talking to Gramp about some project I thought he would like to be involved in. His answer: “That sounds too much like work.” Enough said? Gramp was retired, and he took that commitment very seriously.) Another thing I remember that he made was a long, fiber tube of six size-D flashlight batteries, with a wooden plug at the bottom, and a scavenged nine volt battery clip on the top. Gramp could, likely, run his small transistor radio for a year or more on that battery, without ever bothering to turn it off. And then there was my favorite thing, the little ‘washer-woman’ windmill that remained mounted on the peak of that old house for many years. I remember, as a child, sitting on his lawn and watching that small painted lady doing her laundry in the wash tub made from an old tuna can. Today she resides on a shelf, on a wall in my family room. (If you were to offer me a thousand dollars cash for her, you would leave with your money.) I think that one of Gramp's most ingenious inventions was in the way he unlocked the big, sliding door of the barn. He's gone, so I guess I can tell you now. You see, there was a small hole in one of the planks of that door, that looked just like a knot hole. Gramp, and the few family members (like Dad and me,) who knew the secret, would just stick a finger through that hole, and push a hidden wooden button in exactly the right way, to unlock the door.

To me, the true success of Gramp’s little inventions was in their simple utility, but also in their cost, which was generally nothing more than making use of stuff he had around the barn. He was probably one of Maine's first, real, conservation specialists. Nothing was wasted; few things were ever thrown out.

So far, I have not shared the true solution to gas and pollution, and I will do that now. Well, first I want to relate a short conversation between Gramp and his brother-in-law, my Great Uncle Charlie. The conversation took place one summer, long ago. We were all at a huge family picnic, and Charlie drove up in his big old Ford, sputtering and spewing a billowing plume of burned oil behind it. After Charlie parked, Gramp just went over to him and said: “You know, you can get that motor fixed for two hundred dollars.” (In those days you could.) I will always remember Uncle's response of: “Well, you can buy a lot of oil for two hundred dollars.” (Again, in those days, you could.)

To me, therein lies the problem. Uncle Charlie was only showing an attitude of conservation of another kind; monetary conservation. Money was tight in those days, (as it is now) and, although Charlie was not out to harm the environment, his wallet simply came first, just as did Gramps, when he was making his inventions.

Some things have changed little since Charlie's time, and that of his oil-burning car. New solutions to old problems always seem to cost more than putting up with the problems themselves. Now, pay attention. This fact, more than anything else, is what needs to be overcome. It is as if we are all supposed to relish the idea that personal pain is a good and noble thing. Perhaps it is. Still, as much as I wouldn't mind driving a hybrid or electric car, or one that runs on cow flatulence for that matter, (It has been suggested.) I simply can't afford to pay an extra ten or twenty thousand dollars for the privilege. Even in these days, as Charlie would sympathize if he were here, “You can buy a lot of gas for ten thousand dollars.”

Gramp Shuman's solutions to problems were born in his old garage, and came about by using what he had, to make something useful, for free, or, at least, inexpensively. In the same spirit, Henry Ford mass-produced the model T, for the very reason of making it less expensive to buy. If he had not done so, it would never have sold, and buggy whips might still be very popular.

So, I challenge all of you 'garage-inventors' out there. Tackle the problem of getting a car to run without burning fossil fuels and creating pollution, but also without costing one cent more to own than one that does. Only then will America willingly jump on the bandwagon, (or in the car.) We are not uncaring folks, we just have to balance the checkbook. The one of you who first accomplishes this task will become rich enough to hire Bill Gates to clean your pool, I promise. (When that happens, PLEASE remember where you got the idea.)