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Megasquirt’n'Spark on a 1990 Volvo 740 B234F engine

Monday, March 30th, 2009

Tunable Engine Management System on a turboed B234F engine in a Volvo 740 Wagon

(I hope to post the pictures for this writeup soon.)

This project was performed as the project component of an Olin Self-Study course in engine management for gasoline internal combustion engines. The project involved learning about engine management systems and then researching the MegaSquirt fuel injection and spark control computer. Information relayed in this website includes my experiences while replacing the engine management system in my vehicle and summarize my activites and accomplishments. I have omitted a number of technical details that are MegaSquirt specific because the number of variables I have learned in conjunction with this project will confuse a reader more than they will help. Please contact me via e-mail if you have questions regarding specific system variables and values. This page will be updated as the project progresses and changes.

Current Project Outcomes

To date, I have managed to learn about the history and current state of engine management systems, including fuel injection methods, spark delivery and timing methods, and tuning. I have gained a great deal of knowledge regarding the theoretical and practical application of engine management systems the use volumetric efficiency to run an engine effectively. I have specifically learned many technical details about the MegaSquirt fuel system and the MegaSquirt'n'Spark firmware. I have successfully installed the system on my car, worked to obtain an acceptable idle, and have obtained reasonable driveability of the vehicle in low-load, slow-acceleration states. The following provides greater depth primarily to the project component of my OSS.

The Vehicle

A 1990 Volvo 740 station wagon with a B234F block (2.3 litre I-4 w/ 16 valve head) was chosen to receive the new fuel injection system. A turbocharger has been added to the car using Europe-only Volvo parts, resulting an engine that was never produced. Previously, the car was controlled using a set of stock Volvo Bosch LH 2.4 fuel and spark computers. The fuel computer was obtained from a turboed, 8 valve model of the engine (the B230FT) while the spark computer was sourced from a non-turboed B234F. These computers use an air-mass based fuel calcuation to determine the engine state, as well as knock sensing and a narrow-band exhaust gas sensor to assist with spark retard and fuel enrichment. This system is robust because it can handle the addition of a turbo to the engine with reasonable results. However, because the fuel computer is specifically tuned for an engine with an 8-valve head, it is tuned for a lower air mass entering the engine for a given engine state. The spark computer has no provisions for a boosted engine and therefore does not advance and retard the ignition appropriately for this application, particularly in boost. The computers can function together because Bosch included a provision for the fuel computer to communicate with spark computer, allowing the output of the two to be corrected. It was therefore decided that the fuel and spark computers should be replaced by a more tunable option that will fit the nature of the car.





The System

A Megasquirt V3.0 fuel and spark computer running the MSnS-e 029t firmware was chosen. The system is responsible for controlling the fuel injectors and spark timing utilitzing the car's stock injectors (Bosch 29 lb/hr "green tops" common in late 80s to early 90s turbocharged 4-cylinder engines), coil, and distributor. The computer uses an on-board circuit that is responsible for firing the ignition coil, which negates the need for an external ignition module as was previously used by the LH2.4 system. Every parameter in the system can be tuned using either Megatune, the original Windows-based tuning software, or Megatunix, an open-source Megasquirt tuning software that is available for Windows, Linux, and MacOS. The firmware chosen is called MegaSquirt'n'Spark-extra because it handles fuel, spark, and a number of other functions including boost control, electric fan activation, and even launch control. For non-standard applications, firmwares can be rewirtten to meet the needs of each user. Because the system is highly tunable, configurable, is the least-expensive aftermarket fuel/spark upgrade option, and has a large community of knowlegable users, it appears to be the ideal system to place in a project car that is constrained by a budget.



Installation

To implement this system in my vehicle, I chose to integrate the fuel computer into my car using a self-built "plug-and-play" harness, that allows me to use the stock wiring harness from the original fuel injection and spark computers. This design choice was made because I wanted to ensure that I had a working system to fall back on while I performed this project. I worried that my inexperience with this system and lack of a physically present mentor with specific Megasquirt experience might prevent me from producing a completely working system in the given timeframe. The wiring harness does require a few non-plug-and-play additions in order to function, including an air temperature sensor, coil control wire, and O2 sensor power wires that were not available in the stock wiring harness. In addition to the MegaSquirt computer, a wideband oxygen sensor, which provides very high resolution when examining the oxygen content of the exhaust gas, was installed in place of the original narrow-band sensor. A potentiometer-type throttle position sensor also replaced the "switch-type" TPS originally used on the car. To provide a manifold air pressure reading to the fuel computer, a T-fitting and hose were placed in line with a hose controlling the turbo pressure gauge in the dashboard. No other hardware changes to the vehicle were necessary.

Below: Bosch LH 2.4 to MegaSquirt adapter shown next to stock fuel injection computer (to the left of the passenger foorwell)



Below: Bosch EZK-117 to Megasquirt adapter harness shown connected to stock spark controller harness (under steering column)



Below: Innovate LC-1 Wideband O2 controller and sensor placement in exhaust downpipe



Below: Nissan Throttle Position sensor modified to fit Volvo throttle valve. This throttle position sensor does not have a large enough range and will be replaced by a different type.



Initial Testing/Startup

After installation, the system was tested for functionality by checking its startup behavior, including fuel pump and injector priming, as well as controller communications with a laptop PC. After these functions were verified, base fuel and spark maps with settings known to work in a 2.3 8-valve Volvo engine similar to mine were chosen. On the first startup attempt, the engine did start, ran very roughly, and was only run for about 15 seconds. During the second tuning session, the same settings were used. On startup, the car idled poorly and careful modulation of the gas pedal was needed to prevent stalling. It was discovered that the REQ_FUEL value, the value that states how much fuel is needed by the engine for one combustion event, was set to be approximated 33% above the suggested value, because the car that provided the base settings was non-turbo, and therefore had correspondingly smaller injectors. This value was enough to cause a serious rich condition that resulted in a large cloud of smoke and a poor idle. After this value was appropriately reduced, the car idled without issue. This also eliminated the rich condition. The idle of the car after this change improved significantly over the idle of the stock fuel management system; the car now smoothly idles at approximately 1000 RPM without a rich mixture, a noticable difference from the very rough and rich 750 RPM idle produced by the Bosch computers.

After the initial startup, the fuel table was slightly modified and the car was driven to test its performance. The engine was kept in a state of vacuum because the tables were only tuned up to atmospheric pressure. This testing revalead a few areas in need of attention, including the throttle position sensor, which only works over half of the range of the throttle valve. This will be dealt with using a new, known-working throttle position sensor and adapter plate. The car ran fine, but any attempts at fast acceleration resulted in bucking. However, very gradual throttle increase led to smooth performance up to 3000 rpm with the engine lightly loaded. Additional explanation is provided on the tuning explanation page.

Fuel/Spark Table Tuning

Tuning that I have thus far performed first includes setting my idle and startup parameters and modifying portion of my base fuel map that relates to idle. As stated in many tuning resources, the car should be tuned to have the lowest manifold air pressure possible at my idle RPM. This is essentially the point when the air to fuel ratio is set so that the least amount of total fuel is required while still protecting the engine at idle. This is evidenced by the fact that the least air is entering the engine when, for a given engine speed and throttle position, the pressure between the intake and the cylinder is the lowest. The goal also includes tuning the AFR to fall between 14.0 and 13.2 to 1. This is still slightly richer than stoichiometric, but will lead to cooler, more controlled burn to prevent valve and piston damage.

While this method of tuning is perfect for most engines, I took a slightly different approach to my idle tuning. I chose to tune for the smoothest idle first, and then optimize to get the lowest manifold air pressure afterward. This choice was made on comfort and drivability concerns. Before the installation of the MegaSquirt system when the engine in my car idled at a low RPM, it had a tendency to shake and buck. This is mostly the result of a highly rich condition at idle caused by the Bosch LH system running in open loop (not using the oxygen sensor to determine the proper air-to-fuel ratio) and employing presets that were determined for an engine different from the one in my car. To begin tuning, I chose to first find a reliable idle, regardless of air pressure in the intake manifold. I started by using settings from a non-turboed Volvo B23F engine, which is an 8-valve 2.3 litre engine similar to mine. The initial fuel map in the area of idle seemed to work well, as did the spark settings, but the engine still idled rough and ran rich. To improve this, I decreased the fuel multplier (REQ_FUEL) that relates the injector size to the amount of fuel that is injected. By reducing the REQ_FUEL value to one more appropriate for my injectors, I obtained an idle that is significantly smoother than the previous fuel computer.

To assist in tuning efforts, a fuel map from a similarly built vehicle was obtained. Differences between the two vehicles include a different ignition system and differently sized injectors. To minimize difficulties, the fuel and spark tables, as well as air:fuel ratio targets and wideband oxygen sensor values were the only parameters used, because these tables are mostly independent of other system variables. Additionally, most of the currently chosen values appear to function well. It is true that the buildup of tolerance causes the tables to be somewhat vehicle specific, but the table in question is from a dynomometer-tuned vehicle, which means that the tables are likely to produce positive results even if the values are not perfect for my engine.

The initial use of these maps produced an even smoother idle of the car and smooth operation through the RPM band while the engine was unloaded. The system did produce a miss when it was revved quickly, but this is likely because the chosen throttle position sensor was not connected. Because the system bases its acceleration enrichment off of the TPS, this part must be properly installed before other causes of the fast-acceleration miss can be investigated.

Quantitatively, the leaner fuel mixture at idle has caused an approximate 200 RPM idle increase while still decreasing the manifold air pressure. The exact value of this decrease was not recorded before a bad serial communication corrupted the MegaSquirt computer, preventing the car from starting. Once the firmware has been reflashed and the system reinstalled, the exact MAP value will be determined.

Additionally, the car was shortly driven off boost to determine the state of a small portion of the VE and spark tables. It was found that throttle response with two separate and very different sets of fuel/spark maps was poor, indicating that another factor besides tables needed to be considered. Once the throttle position sensor is reinstalled on the car, this issue will be investigated further.

The new fuel injection system also increased the performance of the engine by decreasing the time required for the engine RPM to decrease after the gas is released. The previous response time for the unloaded engine to decrease from 3000 to 2000 RPM was approximately 3 seconds. After implementation of the MegaSquirt, this time has dropped to about 2 seconds, indicating that the settings have improved the response time of the engine.



As I continue with tuning, I will perform tests to ensure that most of the volumetric efficiency and spark timing tables are appropriately tuned and then tune the acceleration enrichment settings to improve fast throttle response.

Below: A photo of me modifying parameters with Megatune



Problems

As with most older cars, a number of unexpected features were encountered during these modifications. First, it was discovered that the expected pinout of the fuel computer connector was slightly different than expected. This is partially due to the semi-standardization of these fuel computers, and partially due to poor documentation. Second, the +5v power wire to the throttle position sensor was some how non-continuous at a firewall junction. This problem was remedied by bringing a supplemental wire through the firewall to bridge the gap.

More importantly, during the most recent tuning session, I attempted to flash a new set of values to the controller, which resulted in nonsense bits being written to the Megasquirt computer. This occurance prevents the car from starting and does not allow communications to occur properly. To fix this problem, the firmware will be reflashed and the values reloaded so that testing can resume.

Future

This project has been performed on a vehicle that is most appropriately known as a "project car," implying that it is not finished and will continue to be improved and modified. As such, the fuel injection and spark system, though it is installed and, for the most part, functional, this project is far from complete. Although tuning the engine is an important aspect, the system will be used to control other additions to the car, including the electric radiator fan, on-board diagnostics, and turbo boost control.

The fuel injection is the centerpiece of my ability to continue modifying the vehicle because the function of the engine is directly related to the performance of spark and fuel delivery. As the engine is changed, the fuel system can be tuned to best use these changes for a performance or efficiency gain. Immediately performable modifications include new, larger fuel injectors that will increase the maximum theoretical horsepower support of the fuel system. Additionally, the ignition system will be modified to use "coil on plug," a type of ignition that completely removes the mechanical components responsible for spark by placing an individual coil on sparkplugs. This will increase reliability and tunability of the engine.

 

Update: 2009-10-12 - To include miscellaneous settings that I am using. I will include fuel maps when they become better.

Settings

Trigger Settings

Wheel Decoder Base teeth: 60

Missing Teeth: -1

Trigger pos A: 5
Trigger pos A return: 13
Trigger pos B: 35
Trigger pos B return: 43
all others: 0

Req Fuel: 12.6

 

Cranking/Priming Table

Pulse Widths (need tuning but it starts every time after a few cranks)

0 F = 8
20 F = 7
40 F = 6
60 F = 6
80 F = 4.6
100 F = 3.3
130 F = 3.0
160 F = 3.0

 

CLT Temp settings (stock B234F CLT, for EasyTherm, these values aren't perfect but are at least functional)

-25*C = 20000 ohms
50*C = 800 ohms
120*C = 110 ohms

IAT Temp settings (GM IAT)

-18*C = 12000
18*C = 2315
94*C = 250

 

Spark Settings

Trigger angle = 63
Trigger angle addition = 0

 

Other Materials

A thread about ignition settings on T-Bricks - http://forums.turbobricks.com/showthread.php?t=183560&highlight=trigger


The Basics of Fuel Injection, Spark Control, and Tuning - A short description of how fuel injection, spark control, and engine tuning work for gasoline internal combustion engines

LH2.4 Partial Plug-and-Play harness pinout - WARNING - The notes in this file were meant for my eyes. A revised version with more specific comments will be posted when I am sure that my wiring harness is complete for this portion of the project.

Current MSQ File - Contains currently required settings (for MSnS-e 029t firmware) to run my Volvo B234F+t engine, currently on stock internals, stock intake manifold, B204FT exhaust manifold, (unknown type) turbo, Volvo 850 throttle position sensor, Innovate Wideband O2 Sensor, Bosch "Green-top" 29 lb/hr fuel injectors, stock Volvo ignition coil and distributor, stock in-tank and in-line fuel pumps, and a 2.5 bar fuel pressure regulator.

Helpful Online Resources and References:

Wikipedia - Fuel Injection: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuel_injection

Wikipedia - Ignition Systems: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ignition_system

DIYAutoTune - Street Tuning your Megasquirt EMS - http://www.diyautotune.com/tech_articles/street_tuning_your_megasquirt_ems.htm

Megasquirt homepage - http://www.megasquirt.info

Megasquirt forums - http:;//www.msefi.com

Turbobricks Aftermarket Engine Management Forums - http://forums.turbobricks.com/forumdisplay.php?f=21

Posted in 1990 Volvo 740 16 valve Turbo | Comments Off

Stupid O’Clock, Part I

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

I don’t remember how it started, but to some extent it doesn’t matter. These kinds of adventures are born of the frustration of inaction, the frustration that comes after you’ve spent too much time staring at problem sets, too much time spent staring at a computer screen, too much time spent thinking without doing.

 

I remember that I was in the robotics lab throwing darts when my personal tipping point arrived, exactly in between the second and third dart. My first two darts hit the first circle of the board outside the bullseye; the third embedded itself in the wall. I paused, thought fast, and brought out my cell phone.

 

“Mike. I’m declaring 8 PM to be Stupid O’ Clock. Meet me in the robotics lab.”

 

“Joe, grab Katie and meet me in the robotics lab at 8. It’s Stupid O’ Clock.”

 

“Jon, take a break from coding and meet me in the robotics lab at 8. Trust me.”

 

“Kevin. Stupid O’ Clock. 8 PM in the robotics lab. Be there.”

 

Satisfied and calmed, I headed off to the dining hall for a quick dinner.

 

The team assembled, expectant looks on their faces. Mike, the wiry, heavily bearded electrical engineer with a gleam in his eye. Kevin, the lanky, stubbly electrical engineer who somehow resembled a turtle. Joe, the short, burly mechanical engineer whose mother never bothered to instill the idea of “inside voices.” Katie, the flighty gamer/mechanical engineer who wanted to pitch in however she could. Jon, the tall, quiet Asian electrical engineer poised to snark at the drop of a hat. Most, I knew, were frustrated in their own right, whether by school or their personal lives. Some were just along for the ride, and out to have fun. I decided to start us off on the right foot.

 

“I have no idea what I want to do, I just know it has to be stupid and it has to start right now. My only rule is that we only think one step at a time. None of this detailed planning bullshit.”

 

I like being the guy who stands at the top of a hill and rolls a snowball down the side. My friends abided, and the conversation immediately took on a life of its own.

 

“Sweet. Let’s build something.”

 

“I’m in. What are we going to build?”

 

“I dunno, but it better shoot something before the night is over.”

 

“Done. Can it move, too?”

 

“Definitely. Making something move around is hard, though. Do we have anything that already moves that we can modify?”

 

“We have… Mart Carts.”

 

The last voice was Mikes, and we all turned in the direction he was staring in. There, pushed up against the wall of the robotics lab, were the results of a previous adventure, just waiting for their time to shine.

 

Earlier in the fall, Mike invited me to SwapFest, MIT’s seasonal electromechanical flea market. Want an abacus? Ten bucks. A 3-horsepower electric motor that runs on 480 volts AC? Fifteen, but you can haggle it down. A 5-1/4” floppy disk drive? It’s yours, just take it off my hands!

 

We wandered upwards in a slow helix through a converted parking garage, filled with stalls spanning two parking spaces each. The stalls ranged from the elaborate, with glossy printed signs, logos and elaborate trussed aluminum support structures, to the barebones – old ratty vans with their trunks open, white plastic lawn chairs on either side for the salesmen.

 

Mike stopped for every off-the-wall electronic trinket he could find, eyes glazing over as his imagination tried to design projects around what he held in his hand. If he snapped back to reality successful, he bought the trinket. If he came back without a good idea, he reluctantly placed the gadget back where it came from, as if to say “Not this time.”

 

I was initially excited by the prospect of searching through piles of junk, up until I realized that my leanings would make it much harder for me to adapt any discoveries into projects of my own. Mike’s projects involve wiring clumps of discoveries together; voltages and currents must match, but by and large part A can be finagled into working with part B most of the time. My projects require part A to doubly support part B with matched ball bearings within .005” of part B’s diameter, so that part C can spin part B via parts D and E which must have matching geometries or else the whole project will fail. After looking through a few bins of old, worn mechanical components that wouldn’t fit together, I found one cool enough to pass as an elaborate paperweight.

 

We reached the top of the parking deck spiral and took a stairwell to the bottom. We met the rest of our group and decided to leave together, wandering through an adjoining parking lot on the way back to the cars. More vendors crowded the spaces in the lot, hawking their grungy old wares in the open air.

 

The group stopped in unison.

 

A man stood with one leg up on a trailer, one arm draped over the seat of a beautiful machine. He was wearing shorts that came down to mid-calf, held to his body by suspenders that traced wavy black lines over his mild beer belly. He turned to us and smiled, regarding us with clip-on sunshades over his round glasses.

 

“Are those… are those Mart Carts?” one of us asked.

 

“Yes, indeed,” he replied, smile growing wider.

 

Each of us took turns reminiscing about similar early memories of department and grocery stores. Each of us had been enticed by those silent chariots, the Mart Carts, recharging along the walls of the stores from our childhood. We had all wanted to leap upon the seat, twist the handle as far as it would go, and race off into the sunset perched atop our own elegant three-wheeled steed.

 

We decided, again in unison, to buy the carts. It didn’t matter that they had spent the past few years rusting over in a junkyard, it didn’t matter that their drive belts had long snapped, it didn’t matter that their body paneling was cracked and faded. We were buying memories and unfulfilled dreams. We paid our dues, and the Mart Carts were delivered to the college doorstep with great fanfare.

 

The fantasy faded after the first few days, once the realities of our situation set in. Each needed its own, unique overhaul. Two of them simply no longer worked, while the third was laughably slow even after a day’s charge. Classes started taking their toll, our drive to get them working chipped away by increasing responsibilities. Eventually we threw our hands up in resignation, stopping work on them and storing them against a wall in the robotics lab as inconspicuously as possible.

 

Now, the group of Stupid O’ Clockers looked at them with a renewed gleam in our eyes.

 

“Mart Cart tanks with pneumatic cannon turrets.”

 

“Done.”

 

“Thirded.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“To Home Depot!”

 

We split ourselves up into two cars, each car tasked with scheming up ways of accomplishing our task. How would we design the shell of the vehicle? Foam? Easily machineable, though it doesn’t look particularly badass. Translucent plastic sheeting? It would definitely look badass, but was probably out of our price range. Lumber? Lumber. Hmm. Oh yes, yes indeed.

 

We arrived at Home Depot with vague ideas and no specific plans. We split into two teams, one to find parts for the cannon and the other to gather enough lumber for two wood-armored battle tanks.

 

Joe and I were debating whether we should design with 1x3s or 2x4s when Mike ran up, breathless; “What are we shooting?”

 

“Marshmallows?”

 

“Lame.”

 

“Potatoes?”

 

“Too hard to reload quickly.”

 

We looked at each other, looked at the shelves around us and dug through our pockets. Mike yelped in victory with his hands in his pants, pulling potential ammunition from his back pocket. He presented his find to us between two fingers.

 

“Bouncy balls?”

 

Joe and I nodded in unison, no words necessary. Mike scampered away to size the barrel appropriately, and Joe and I turned back to deciding between raw materials.

 

The party converged on the cashier stations merrily, each of us barely containing our excitement. Everyone grinned from ear to ear. Mike vibrated slightly, Joe and I contented ourselves with outbursts of giggles every thirty seconds or so. We split the check evenly amongst all of us, and proceeded triumphantly out the door.

 

We all saw the problem at exactly the same time.

 

“Ok, so whose brilliant idea was it to drive two sedans over?”

 

The situation was dire. The lumber was sold in 10-foot lengths, lengths which rivaled the lengths of the cars meant to carry them. My friend Jon had driven his Prius over, the trunk of which barely contained his backpack. The only option was my Spectra.

 

“It’ll be fine. Trust me,” I offered uncertainly.

 

The rest of the team went to work stuffing Jon’s Prius with as much as it could carry. The air tank rested across the laps of the people in back, the valving and connectors in bag on the lap of the person in shotgun. Meanwhile, I worked furiously.

 

Passenger’s seat down, headrest removed and stowed underneath the glove compartment. Both back seats folded as far as they can go. Trunk cover removed and stowed behind the two front seats, underneath the folded rear seats. Hatchback open as far as it will go, passenger door closed. The first 2x4 sliding slowly… slowly… slowly… watch out for the side mirror… slowly… perfect.

 

I stood triumphantly beside the car, arms akimbo, head cocked to the side. An imaginary cape fluttered in the breeze behind me, emblazoned with the imaginary logo of TetrisMan. A round of golf clapping came from Jon’s car.

 

The 2x4 started in the back left corner of the car, stretched across the lowered rear seats and passenger’s seat, rested on the window sill of the passenger’s side door and poked out the front window over the side mirror by a foot. Success.

 

Joe clambered out of Jon’s car and helped me load the rest of the beams into my Spectra, lovingly named Jazz’n. Fifteen 10-foot boards later, we closed the trunk securely and high-fived. We drove back to Olin, and the adventure continued.

 

Jon and Mike immediately set to work on the bouncy ball cannon, having the most applicable experience in this particular field. White PVC shavings covered the wood shop by the time they were done, tribute to their manic intensity.

 

The rest of the team went to work on the Mart Carts. Multimeters were produced to test battery voltage and control lever functionality. Covers were removed, belts and bearings inspected. Rusted bolts were noted, cracked welds called out.

 

Enthusiasm for the Mart Carts once again hit the brick wall of Reality. Both batteries were damaged beyond repair, and on top of that were slowly leaking acid. One motor gearbox was rusted solid. One frame was cracked, another was bent. No brakes worked.

 

We stripped them down dutifully of all nonfunctional parts, categorizing in piles of “Functional,” “Repairable,” and “Beyond Repair.” The functional pile remained empty throughout the night, the repairable pile scant and the “Beyond Repair” pile came to hold most of each Mart Cart. Eventually we came to strip each cart down to its wheels and frame, and we contented ourselves by riding them through the halls like scooters.

 

The night dragged on, and the now-tired group reconnoitered at 2 in the morning.

 

“We tried pretty hard, but it doesn’t look like the Mart Carts are gonna work out.”

 

“Eh, it’s ok. It was a stupid idea, and that was the point.”

 

“On the other hand, the cannon’s working out pretty well. Kevin’s been working on wiring the final switch for the past half-hour. We should be able to test it now.”

 

All eyes turn to Kevin, who looked back at us as a frog would look back at a flashlight before the net fell. “I think it’s ready.”

 

Mike carefully muzzle-loads a bouncy ball into the barrel. I do a quick pressure test, then pressurize the air tank to 120 psi with the air compressor. Jon activates the power supply, channeling the appropriate 18 volts to the switch. “Kevin, count us off.”

 

“3. 2. 1.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off

Stupid O’Clock, Part II

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

Suddenly, nothing happens. Kevin panics slightly.

 

“Uh… 3. 2. 1.”

 

Abruptly, nothing happens. Again.

 

The group stares at Kevin, who looks back with night-drunk eyes and smiles his patented dorky, lopsided “My bad!” smile.

 

“But… you’ve been soldering for half an hour! It’s a single switch!”

 

Kevin starts giggling.

 

“Dude, you had one job!”

 

He giggles so hard he starts hiccupping.

 

“You’re an electrical engineer, for crying out loud!”

 

Kevin flops onto his back and starts rolling from side to side, embroiled in hiccup-punctuated hysterics. Mike jumps in with the soldering iron, fixing the circuit in under a minute. Kevin continues rolling.

 

Enthusiasm picks up again, as Mike flourishes the fixed switch with a grin.

 

“Alright, let’s do this. 3. 2. 1.”

 

A motor whines and turns the valve. Compressed air expands with a bang. A bouncy ball rockets forward, too fast for our eyes to track. We all think the exact same thought, at the exact same instant in time.

 

We probably should’ve gone outside.

 

We’re on the second floor of the Academic Center, which assumes a gentle curve along its length. The manicured, cream-colored hallway curves to the left, with little cul-de-sacs branching off to the right every twenty feet. A glass-and-steel handrail captures the left side of the hallway, occasionally interrupted by common areas.

 

Each of us flinch as the bouncy ball ricochets around the second floor for the better part of a minute, each of us hoping and praying that it doesn’t find its way to one of the framed artworks lining the corridor. We open our eyes and resume breathing as the ‘bonk’ sounds die down, none of which have given way to glass shattering.

 

“So. Uh. Call it a night?”

 

“Yeah.”

“It’s totally bedtime.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

We all high-five for a night well spent, and then disperse to our beds.

 

Mike and I wake up early the next morning. We stare at each other across the breakfast table.

 

“You know… I have like, shit-tons of bouncy balls.”

 

“I’ll bet that cannon can fire a bunch of them at once.”

 

“It probably can, you’re right.”

 

“We should give it a try.”

 

We split up. Mike runs off to his room to track down a bucket full of bouncy balls. I run to the robotics lab to retrieve the cannon, taking care to pressurize it beforehand. We run into each other in the center of the campus oval, both bouncing up and down in excitement.

 

“How many should I load in?”

 

“Fuck man, I don’t know. How many does it hold?”

 

“It holds 12.”

 

“Let’s fire 12 then. Jesus, this isn’t that hard.”

 

Mike loads them in, I attach two nine-volt batteries to the firing circuit.

 

“Oh man, I’m so excited. Do it do it do it do it.”

 

“Oh man, let’s do it! Fire in the hole!”

 

I hit the button.

 

A motor whines and turns the valve. Compressed air expands with a painful bang. Twelve bouncy balls rocket into the morning sky. Mike and I cry out in unison;

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The yell dies down quickly. Mike and I stare at each other. Our eyes drift to the cannon, pointed vertically. Mike and I stare at each other. Our eyes drift to the sky, suddenly realizing our predicament.

 

“We’re… retarded.”

 

“Well, fuck.”

 

An elderly, graying woman is out for a stroll with her Chihuahua on a lovely Sunday morning. She rounds the corner of the new engineering campus, built just a few years ago. A loud bang sounds from the center of campus, startling her and making her lovely puppy yip in fear. A second or two passes without further noise, and she harrumphs confusedly and continues walking through the center of the Oval. Two boys cower in fetal positions on the ground a little ways down the path, lying next to some strange-looking sewer pipe. “Are you boys alright? Do you need help?”

 

A design professor finishes up his weekend work, packs his laptop and heads out of his office in the Academic Center. Two familiar figures are gallivanting around in the Oval, and he stops and smiles. The smile fades a bit as he recognizes the dangerous contraption they’re carrying, and he rolls his eyes in the way a pacifist would if he saw children playing Cowboys and Indians. He notices the boys are loading the cannon and takes a hold of the handrail in front of him. Wait, what? Where would they fire that thing? He spots movement to their left, and watches an elderly woman walk her dog towards them. He looks back, and they’re fiddling with the firing switch while the cannon points towards the sky. No. No. They’re not idiots. They wouldn’t do such a… The cannon retort hits the windows, rattling them slightly. The professor drops his bags and finds his hands clutching his head. Oh my God. They’re idiots, both of them. Why on Earth would they do that? How could they possibly think that’s a good idea? Oh my God. Oh my God.

 

We look in horror at the woman walking towards us. Unable to speak, we managed to convey confused grunts and manic hand-waving from our fetal positions. She furrows her brow, asks if we need help again, and then decides that we must be too far gone for her to be able to help.

 

The first of the balls hit the ground.

 

The ‘bonk’ from the night before is replaced with a lung rattling ‘THOCK’ as the first ball touches down on pavement nearby.  The Chihuahua jumps and looks around. The woman doesn’t notice.

 

A ‘SHLOOK’ sound comes from our right as a bouncy ball lands heavily in some wet mud.

 

Warning shots fired, a cacophony ensues.

 

A few more ‘THOCK’s as balls hit pavement and marble guardrails. Every now and then a ‘DOOOOONG’ as a ball touches down on a roof or other metal surface. Worrisome ‘DINK’s as balls hit glass. Every now and then a ‘SHLOOK’ as a ball safely comes to rest in more mud. The sounds die down after two minutes.

 

We emerge from fetal position and look around. The woman and dog continue walking peacefully, oblivious and unharmed. A bouncy ball rolls sedately in front of them and she pauses, inspects it, and places it in her purse for her grandson.

 

Our design professor Ben bursts forth from the Academic Center, yelling “What is WRONG with you two?”

 

We collapse into hysterics.

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Olha Onda!

Thursday, March 26th, 2009
Brazil was a terrifying place when I stepped off the plane for my first vacation there.

Not only was there a huge language barrier with the entire population (my mom had tried, unsuccessfully, to get me bilingually fluent in English and Portuguese) but there were drivers ready and willing to squish unwitting pedestrians flat, streets and alleys that I was absolutely never to go down alone, marauding grandmothers with cheek-seeking fingers, and any number of other hazards waiting to do in careless 8-year-olds. For all intents and purposes, I was glued to my mother’s side for the first few days.

One morning, she announced that we were going to the beach. It took me a little while to fully understand the concept, being raised in landlocked Tennessee up until this point. To the best of my understanding, we were going swimming in a gigantic pool. I was generally a fan of swimming, so I shrugged and consented easily enough.

We walked through four or five city blocks, passing street food cart after grimy, smoky street food cart. The sidewalks and roads alternated between asphalt and lovingly broken cobblestones that seemed to exist in a happy state of disrepair, fractured enough just to add flavor to the landscape yet sound enough to not beg for repairs. Skyscrapers blocked the entire view around us; Brazilians have a tendency to build up instead of out, and so twin 80-story apartment complexes with interleaved clotheslines and communal soccer fields intermingled with office buildings throughout the city. Small green spots along the sidewalks sported palm trees and tropical plants.

Suddenly, the city stopped cold.

My mom accidentally dragged me out of the city, as I had stopped walking to concentrate on gaping. Behind us, Recife rose like so many concrete stalagmites. In front, palm trees waved us onto an expanse of pure yellow, bordered by a roiling green ocean that gave way smoothly to crystal-clear blue skies.

I must’ve left ruts in the sand from my mom dragging me by the hand, because I don’t remember walking to the shore. A wave of beautiful bronze bodies milled around in as little clothing as possible; some lay on blankets, others walked hand in hand across the beach, and yet others sat under wide umbrellas with beers in hand. A monkey of a man clambered up a palm tree, machete in hand, and chopped off three green coconuts to bring down to his shack made of reeds. A rotund man in a revealing Speedo and a harness that attached a Styrofoam cooler to his belly called “Gelado! Gelado aqui! Gelado!” as he walked past, hawking ice cream to the beach-going masses. A short, wiry man in a more comfortable-looking Speedo approached from the other direction, attempting to out-scream ice-cream man by announcing “Vem ver os pasarinhos, vem ver! Vem ver os pasarinhos, vem ver!” He held his right arm akimbo, four neon blue birds of paradise perched contentedly on his bicep. The two men glared at each other in between their screams as they passed each other, apparently locked in a strange parakeet-vs.-popsicle battle for disposable income.

All of this I only remembered after the fact, and only by virtue of filing the visuals away in my head. At the time, the only thing I really saw was the beach.

Golden sand enveloped, tickled and warmed my feet. Not fifty feet from shore, a short barrier reef rose three more feet from the three-foot-deep water, holding back the violent ocean and preserving a waveless tide pool close to shore. Transparent, slightly green water waited for me to walk in, revealing hundreds of inch-long silver fish schooling back and forth between the shore and the reef.

At some point my mom had let go of my hand, because I found myself waist-deep in water the temperature of a once-hot bath after soaking for a half-hour. I closed my eyes and felt the slight rocking of the tide pool, gently mimicking the fury of the ocean held at bay. My feet sank slowly but steadily into the fine, wet sand beneath me, gently reminding me that I should keep moving lest I become part of the scenery. I opened my eyes, and took in the reef.

The reefs resembled jet-black stone sponges, spotted with life. The pores of the reef were big enough for two 8-year-old fingers each, and each teemed with its own variety of life. This one was stuffed with algae, this one sheltered a small crab, this other held a small pool of water with two saltwater minnows swimming in small circles. After spending what seemed like hours investigating as many different miniature environments as I could near the tide pool, I decided to climb up onto the top of the reef and continue my discoveries.

The top of the reef felt dangerous. The edges of the pores of the stone sponge were sharp and jagged, and occasionally coated in slick algae. It didn’t matter, though; I was soon on all fours staring into every pore, crevice and pool I could find. I found a colony of small hermit crabs, minnows flopping from tiny pool to tiny pool to survive, snails contentedly munching on the readily available algae, and shrimp hiding in the middle of the largest pools.

Eventually I became vaguely aware that my cousin had joined me. My mom hadn’t invited our family to come with us to the beach, but Brazilians living in Recife spent several hours each day on the beach and it was only a matter of time before they found us and joined us.

He started trying to talk to me, in the awkward, stilted manner one might use to address a 2-year-old just learning to speak individual words. Without looking up from my exploration, I tried answering him in the awkward, stilted manner one might use to carry on an entire conversation if one only knew twenty words or so.

Suddenly, my cousin’s voice grew urgent.

“Guilherme! Olha onda, Guilherme! Olha onda! Porra Guilherme, olha onda!”

And with that, he promptly ran from me and jumped into the tide pool.

I was confused.

Ok, you can do this. Olha means… what does olha mean. I think it means… eyes. No, wait, look. Look at? Yeah, that’s right. Onda… I’ve heard this one before. Onda means… what does it mean… wave. Yeah, wave. Porra means… I have no idea what porra means. Olha onda means look at wave. Wait, what does that mean?

I heard the roar too late.

I had time to turn my head and see the ten-foot wave bearing down on the reef. I then had enough time to be scared.

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes underwater, staring up at the sky through two feet of beautiful warm water. For some reason, tendrils of red water started floating past my vision.

Suddenly, the entire surface of my skin burned.

My mom would later claim she heard my yell from shore, even though it started underwater. I suppose I must’ve breached the surface at some point, mouth still open in agony. I ran towards shore in a terrifying real-life rendition of a nightmare, where you’re running as fast as you can but you still can’t move quickly. Each movement swished more saltwater around my wounds, increasing the pitch of my scream slowly but surely.

I finally broke through the tide pool and ran up the shore, the saltwater flowing off my body giving way to trickles of blood and tears. The scream continued unabated. For some reason I decided to look down and nearly threw up, nauseated by the foot-long gashes cut across the entire front of my body by the sharp reef. Blood welled up in each gash, tracing thick dark lines down my body by the time I reached my mother.

She looked up from her book startled, and gasped. My scream degenerated into sobbing, with occasional bursts of “It hurts!” My mother scrambled to her feet, took me by the shoulders and exclaimed:

“Stand right there, I’m going to go get the camera!”

Dumbfounded, I stopped sobbing and watched her run off to her bag. Seconds later, the pain overcame my sheer disbelief, and I started crying again; my vision went blurry with the tears. A minute later, I heard the mechanical shutter on her camera engage three times. I felt her hand take mine, and she said “Time to go home and get band-aids.” We ran back to the apartment complex as fast as we could in search of medical supplies.

I went back to that beach every day for the next three months.

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1900 miles

Monday, March 23rd, 2009
Initial jubilation and merriment quickly giving way to calm lethargy.

The kind of dance that can only happen when two people are reintroduced after months apart.

Emotional charge crackling through the air in the form of straightened backs, careful words, metered gazes and small, calculated smiles.

Hilarity as GPS units lead you through Madison Square Garden as the "fastest route."

Cultures clashing as neuroscientists sit down to dinner with exotic dancers.

Blues dancing to buskers at midnight on the streets of Philadelphia.

Building relationships without models over long walks and good beer.

Remaking acquaintances through storytelling between fries and bites of burger.

The knot of fear that socks you in the stomach as you realize your car is no longer at the meter where you left it.

The complete, unadulterated relief accompanying finding your car unharmed after a courtesy tow.

Eking out scant spare hours for the convergence of old friends and old stories with new partners and new stories.

Parting ways with a smile and a kiss, assured that paths will cross soon, somehow.

Memories rushing back as quickly as the car rushes forward through a city full of landmarks and history.

Seeing your past selves through the lens of others you knew earlier in life.

Quickly developing relationships from scratch.

Slowly developing relationships carefully built over the course of a decade.

Surprising your mother to the point of tears and uncontrollable, jumping-in-the-air jubilation.

Allowing the land to surprise you with the overwhelming beauty you always manage to forget.

Being allowed to share the lives of two near-strangers simply by virtue of the dance connections between you.

Ethiopian food. 'Nuff said.

Surprising your father by informing him of your tattoo in front of all of his students.

Being asked to share a painful topic in front of complete strangers you'll never see again, and feeling completely willing.

Exploring the limits of dance connection, and how it ties to what is usually referred to as "real life."

Falling asleep at midday in the middle of nowhere, basking in the sunlight with the car seat down.

Driving aimlessly around a city for hours only to unintentionally return to exactly where you began, as life gives you a big old metaphorical slap in the face.

Hearing deep, penetrating laughter for the first in ages, which triggers a flood of pleasant seven-year-old memories.

Eating the best pancakes of your life, and not being afraid to order more.

Feeling like you've entered a chapel for the first time in your life as you walk humbly and silently through a cavern millenias in the making.

Experiencing the fluidity of time vividly as hours of driving feel the same as a single minute spent barefoot in the mostly-frozen Lake Erie.

Being completely and utterly tricked for the first time in a very long time.

Finding a 13-year-old demo tape for a local Boston musician in a thrift store fifteen minutes from Buffalo.

Experiencing the sheer panic that comes with a cell phone dying in the middle of nowhere, right when you need it most.

Clambering onto a dormant fountain as if it were an adult-sized jungle gym without a care in the world, while following someone elses lead.

Rejoicing at an entirely improbable reunion in an entirely improbable location.

Easy, seamless introductions.

Dancers, musicians and audiences playing off of each other for a blissful night of Blues.

Not being allowed to sit out through a song by either musicians or members of the audience, all complete strangers.

Keeping up with a band on a sixty year old bass, half a beer and trembling knees.

Regaling stories, working through details and coming home over a long car ride.

Arriving back in Boston after a six-day, 1900 mile roadtrip with 10 minutes to spare before the weekly Blues lesson.

Sleeping on your own bed.

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Women in Technology

Sunday, March 22nd, 2009
March 24th is an Internet declared holiday of Ada Lovelace Day. It is meant to gain awareness that there is gender inequality still present in technology and draw attention to women excelling despite it.

Normally I'd pass these things over. The Internet doesn't really declare a holiday, but this one resonated too strongly. The mention of the need for female role models, the hidden discrimination, and more all are things I've seen. It hit me too deep in the gut to let this go.

But I'm not here to dwell on the past. I try and let that experience go and hope that things get better.

There are a few women I do admire in technology. Many of them are FIRST Judges. They are the movers and shakers in technology that I have had the opportunity to talk to on a level that without FIRST I would not have had the chance. Some of them have been told nice girls don't do science. Most of them are now high ranking engineers. All of them are amazing people. Helen, Deborah, Sherra, Joann, Cindy, Leann, Sue, Peko, Alex, Elaine, and more I know I'm forgetting. Every one of them is amazing in their own right. Chief Engineers, Program Managers, Professors, Deans, World Conquerers, Robot Builders, Entrepreneurs, Scientists. They are out there as the role models I missed out on.

There are astronauts too. Sunita, Sally, Shannon, Eileen. One day I may be crazy enough to join them. You are the superstars that helped drag me into engineering, the others have just kept me here.

There is finally Amy. I've never met someone with as much drive and resilience. She has shown me that anything is possible and gender does not matter. She's also been the kick when I'm stuck and need a hand. Thank you.

I really cannot say enough about the women in technology I look up to. They come from all over the country, and every industry. But each one of them is proof that it is possible to be a successful female engineer despite everything that tells you no.

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Anticipation

Tuesday, March 17th, 2009
So, after painfully deciding to stay in MD for the summer, everything seems to be falling into place. I'll be home and able to go sailing every afternoon, living in my parent's new house on the water in Pasadena. Actually, depending on the construction schedule, I may be living on their boat. I'll go to roller derby games, take belly-dancing lessons, and volunteer at the Velocipede Bike Project.

Right now I am sitting in the library at SEA and there is a creepy bug with a bajillion legs crawling across the floor.

Anyways, I'm excited about it. I think working at the power plant will be cool. I'll get to work with a really wide spectrum of people - from craftpeople to contractors. I'll get to do some machining and welding. My parent's neighbors also have a welder so I may be able to get lots of welding practice in this summer. I'll get to design my own project to work on and see a lot of what goes on behind the scenes in a vaguely rotational program. This job also sets it up so that I have a high likelihood of employment in the Baltimore area after graduation - which would be fantastic. I love Baltimore. Plus I will get a hardhat. That is cool.

I leave for Hawaii in 5 days. I am so excited. I get on the boat in 8 days. I'll be camping in Ahupua'a O Kahana State Park with one of my new friends for 2 days and then bumming around in Honolulu for a night. I already have plans to have dinner with Brian Bingham and he's going to come check out the boat with me. We learned about diesel engines in Nautical Science class today - which was a nice refresher on thermodynamics (suck, squeeze, bang, blow). I think ship operations are so fascinating - I really like how all of the systems (potable water, wastewater, power generation) are so close together and tangible. It reminds me of what I liked about working at the Shoals Marine Lab. I am excited to help the Ship's Engineer with everything. There's even a reverse osmosis machine onboard - I am impressed. I already signed up to work as a deckhand during the extra week that I will be in Tahiti.

Just a few more things left to do, the worst part is going to be packing for the flight home. I drove here and did not pack very efficiently.

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Starting to fix the free 1995 Volvo 850

Monday, March 16th, 2009

Unfortunately for a friend of mine, he was in a car accident. He decided he didn't want the car anyone, so he gave it to me.

The Car, before

 

































Not so bad, right? we maybe not.

 Picture of the Damage

 

Anyway, I managed to replace the hood, though I am disappointed that the paints are slightly different colors. Oh well.

 The new hood going on

 Color not quite right

Today, I cut into the front end. I got everything torn apart with the exception of the fluid lines. Less work than I thought it would be.

 Fornt end torn apart

And that's where I stand. Tomorrow, I plan to straighten the cross member and install the radiator and AC condensor.

 

 

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Drift would

Sunday, March 15th, 2009
Top 10 list of Things that are really great right now:

10. Air drying my clothes. No more excuses. I'm in the middle of the desert, there's no rain, it's not too cold outside, there's plenty of space, finally for the first time in my life I'm boycotting the clothes drier. Yeah, I know, it doesn't really make a dent in the fact that I'm living in Abu Dhabi, which I'm sure has the largest carbon footprint per capita in the world, but I'll take small victories where I can find them. And enjoy simple pleasures like the massive

9. Time shift. I'm constantly eight hours ahead of everyone else in Boston and since the work week starts on Sunday, I get an extra jumpstart on the week, and the weekend starts earlier on Friday. I never thought a time shift would make work flow better, but it sure does. It definitely gives the appealing illusion that I have extra time that other people don't, and that I should work a little harder to stay ahead because I have this advantage. Weird, huh? Also,

8. Music is great. I'd forgotten how AWESOME music is. I just read papers and listen to music all day, it's quite fantastic. I dance all the time in my office chair and grin as I comb through reports. And even more super because

7. Songbird version 1.1 is now out. Songbird is like the Mozilla Firefox of music players, which makes me happy because I just don't like using iTunes...it feels slimy. Speaking of spiffy computer apps, another program that is totally sweet is 

6. Zotero. YESSSS!!! I love Zotero. It helps me keep organize all the papers I read, takes all the work out of creating citations, and keeps track of all the random tangents and themes and ideas I'm finding. If you are doing any sort of research at all, definitely definitely check out the powers of Zotero, because it's amazing and free. And you know what else is amazing and free?

5. Google. YEEEESSSSSS!!! I am a Google slave. My Gmail account is tricked out with 13 different Google labs features, I can keep track of email from 5 different accounts and a gazillion different email lists (spam free!), as well as appointments and task items on the same simple page. And organization effort for email is so minimal because labels and filters are great, and it's so frickin easy to find anything I need with a Gmail search. Not to mention my copious use of Google Docs, Google Scholar, Google Books, and, of course, plain old Google searching. Yes, it's pathetic and I love it. All of these tools, in fact items 9 through 5 plus the tabbed lightning speed internet browsing wonders of Mozilla Firefox have made my 

4. Workflow AWESOME. I've never been this productive before. I'm so excited to arrive for work every morning, it's bizarre. I've had summer research jobs before, and this work is kind of like that - lots of self-pacing, which can be tough (and was much more tough before), but thanks to free software and the power of music and time shifts, it's incredibly enjoyable. I'm sailing through papers, learning faster than ever before. The only problem is that I spend a ton of time sitting and staring at my laptop, so it's great that I can
3. Work out. Never really had the time to do it regularly before. Weight training is a lot of fun. Better muscles, stronger bones, I think my body is going to be pretty happy here because I'm also

2. Eating great. Definitely the healthiest I've ever eaten in my life. I'm a full fledged vegan now (it's been about a year) and I'm eating tons of veggies and lentils (there's like 14 different kinds here!) and hummus and it's all fantastically scrumptious. I love buying tons of produce at the super market, my favorites of the moment are pomegranates and tomatoes. But really, the number one thing that is going really really great is

1. Years of brainwashing are going down the drain. I'm one of five non-Muslim Masdar students here now, all the other students are Muslim. I really really don't like admitting it, but when I lived in the US, the first word that came to mind when I heard "Muslim" was "terrorist." I knew better, but I found it devilishly difficult to erase that gut reaction when the media screamed it back into place every second. It is FANTASTIC to be here, finding so many other better words to associate, to learn first hand about so many different shades and hues of Islam. I feel like I'm healing a huge scar on my brain. I'm pretty sad that scar has been there so long, so it feels great to stitch it back to health, one piece at a time. And if you want to cry at what a horrible place America was under the Bush Administration, just listen to Habeas Schmabeas episode of This American Life. (It's really well done, won a Peabody award.) Guantanamo Bay is basically another form of the Japanese Internment camps from WWII. The USA gets scared and we torture very innocent people. Nothing has ever made me feel so ashamed to be American than Guantanamo Bay. And I think a large reason why the public put up with it is the utter complete brainwashing that Abu Dhabi is now SAND BLASTING out of my brain. It's a wonderful wonderful wonderful feeling.

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Life Plan

Wednesday, March 11th, 2009
So, I'm starting to think that maybe I shouldn't cross grad school off the list so quickly, options I am currently researching:

Energy & Resources @ Berkeley
interdisciplinary program - combination of technology, science, public policy, and economics
opportunities to integrate social science research with my interest in energy infrastructure and sustainability
San Francisco

Precourt Energy Efficiency Center: Systems Research @ Stanford
More technical, focused research

There's also lots of international programs. *sigh* figuring this out is going to take a while.

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