Just Around the Benz

Update, Nov. 6: Escape from Berkeley '09!

2008-11-06T18:21:00.000-08:00

Well it's been almost a month since our great adventure, and we've got the word that "Escape from Berkeley: By any non-petroleum means necessary" is a go for next year!

Since the last race, ideas are still popping into our heads on how to make a "Serious" contender. Jack McCornak's MAX and the Green Team Dodge really got us inspired.

So we've whittled down the options until finally we reached our last. . .

We've deduced, that the only way to win this rally is Victory by Sheer NUMBERS!

Yes that's right. If one Merc won't beat 'em, three will! Using the best ideas of all the previous contenders, we will have an alternative fuel smorgasbord! "The Merc" will stay as he is, running on waste vegetable oil. Another car will feature a gasifier-fueled engine. And finally, another car will sport a high performance steam engine!

For back-up, all the cars will feature bicycle pedals connected to the drive shaft, and tether points on each car if tieing them together is necessary.

Heh. Well of course I'm not serious about that, but we are figuring out ways to make the "Merc" a better contender. Heated fuel lines are at the top of the list.

I'll keep you updated on the going-ons here in the shop. I think the smell of veggie-oil will probably follow me to my grave.

P.S.

We still have some of the oil donated to us by fellow homeschool groups for the race (thanks again!), and we hadn't filtered some of it yet.

Well we found it that it was good that we waited until now to use it...

Fish scales and shrimp. Yummm....

Tuesday, Oct. 14: The Send-off.

2008-10-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

We got a call in the morning from Jake. He said they were all meeting at the Sahara lobby at 0900. Unfortunately, he called 15 minutes before 0900, so we didn't have time to get the Merc running and get him down there. Before we left, dad, out of interest, tried to start the Merc, but the engine barely turned once. Looks like the battery is pretty much dead. So we hopped into the chase vehicle and took off to the Sahara.

As usual, we got there late. The Green Team and many of the event staff had already taken off. But Jake and a few others still remained, along with Kristie's Flyer and MAX.

And, since we missed the awards ceremony the previous night, Jake presented us our awards!

Our awards were:

"Worst idea actually made to kind of work" - "An award for an engineering solution to a problem not wisely chosen, but made to somewhat work anyway. Bestow on the team who was not tempted by more simple, direct and elegant solutions, and in their stead pursued the more esoteric, vaguely evocative or just tragically heroic and difficult solutions to a problem much more simply solved by other means."

And:

"Exceptional Community Building" - "The Judges also awarded the HOMESCHOOL HEROS an award for EXCEPTIONAL COMMUNITY BUILDING in their approach to gathering fuel. They combined reliance on a broad social network and recycling of waste material, changing it into a resource."

Good work I'd say!

We spent the rest of the morning taking pictures and shooting the breeze.

Finding articles on the Escape in the New York Times.

Scott getting the angle again.

Then Jake joins in.

The trusty steamer.

Dad talking with Shannon.

Finally, we bid farewell to everybody, and made off to get the Merc ready to return home.

In the resort parking lot.

A great deal of thanks goes out to all the organizers and support crew for Escape from Berkeley. You guys put together an awesome adventure, and we're waiting for next year's race!

To our frustration, when the temperature was over the 70 F mark, Dad tried to start the engine. It worked flawlessly. Apparently the battery doesn't like the cold either...

So for photo verification, we drove back to the Sahara for a final "yeah-we-made-it" picture.

Also note that the external fuel line is still in place.

With everything running fine, the oil in the main gas tank loosened up with the help of diesel and additives, we made the trek home.

Thank you to all our supporters, our fellow racers, and the event staff for making this an enjoyable journey!

Monday, Oct. 13. Day 3: Part II

2008-10-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

"So we can only go ten miles at a time?"

"Maybe twelve on a flat."

"We're going through mountains?"

"To cut across to Nevada, yes."

"Our odometer is broken."

"We'll call out the miles by the radios from the chase vehicle."

"Oh joy."

Bishop was almost 45 miles down the road, but it is a sizable town and could have a store to pick up more fuel filters.

We readied the Newman Tank. It was going to be a long laborious drive to Las Vegas, but it was our only choice, we weren't giving up.

It was past sundown now, and we got news that everyone reached Las Vegas safely.

Placing on the scoreboard was long out of the question. All we really wanted was to finish anyways. And by the Almighty we were going to do just that.

We had to stop to refuel on the average of every ten minutes. My Uncle Lowe, in the chase car, would call out the eight through twelve mile marks via radio. At first, we were slow to refill, but the actual time we took to refuel started getting shorter and shorter as we got into a rhythm.

When we reached Bishop, we stopped by a Kragen's which thankfully, was still open. We picked up more oil filters and a 1.2 gallon gas can that we hoped to replace the Newman Tank with. Theoretically, it should increase the range to around 20 miles. Unfortunately, we didn't think to install the "Newman 2.0" until AFTER we went through the mountains into Nevada.

After Bishop, we headed south to Big Pine, where we hung a left onto Highway 168 East, which would cut through the mountains and into Nevada where it would connect with the 95 South to Vegas.

There were narrow one-laned roads again, but thankfully there were no cliffs involved this time. But there were some climbs that cut down our fuel mileage.

As we drove through the high-desert of the California/Nevada border, the temperature was higher than in the Sierras, but it wasn't high enough at night for our oil to loosen up.

The clear sky, full moon, and lack of any man-made lights gave a seemingly barren desert landscape a picturesque quality of its own.

We passed through one or two 100-person communities and dozens of miles of open range. There were no fences along the road, and we saw dozens of cattle sitting by the side of the road. The prospect of an angry bull "removing" us from his territory was something I didn't need at that very moment, considering I'm facing my back toward the open country as I help Dad fill up the pitiful grape juice bottle.

Another thing worthy of note, is that the local jackrabbit populace hasn't any form of entertainment except making all the wary travelers like us swerve our vehicles excessively...

Alas, we finally made it to the US-95 and headed south, which would eventually lead us to Vegas.

Just before we turned onto the 95, we got a call from Jake saying that although we missed the awards ceremony, we had won some awards and everyone was rooting for us.

At a small town called Beatty, we finally "upgraded" the Newman Tank to "Newman 2.0".

The new tank extends our mileage to 18-20 miles, makes for an easier ride, as stops are every 18-20 minutes now.

It wasn't until after 0140-ish that we saw the glow of Las Vegas over the hills. Then the beacon of the Luxor casino became noticeable. It was around 0200 when we pulled into the Las Vegas city limit. When I called Jake to let him know, it was clearly evident that we was already in bed and sleeping when I called. And sure thing, everyone had retired for the night already. Oh well, they're having a get-together at the Sahara Casino valet parking area tomorrow at 0900. At least we can see them then.

We all breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled into the Cancún resort parking lot. We had faced and beaten the elements and the odds. We drove 600 miles without using a drop of petrol. We had finished the race, hours behind everyone else, but we finished.

And there we were, covered in veggie-oil and dead-tired, but TRIUMPHANT.

Now if you'll excuse me...

Ahem...

WOOT!!!!

Monday, Oct. 13. Day 3

2008-10-16T15:44:00.000-07:00

Finally, a great night's rest. We woke up refreshed and rejuvenated to face the last day of the race.

We were pretty confident that we could make it to Vegas, and we were right, just not about the method and the time...

We started off by running through our usual cold-weather start-up procedure, although this time we had access to the shower in the motel room, so start-up went much quicker than the previous morning.

We bid Scott farewell, as he left with the Kristie's Flyer down south to Death Valley where the last two remaining competitors were.

Mom and Dad went down to Mammoth Lakes to pickup a new secondary fuel filter at Napa Auto Parts, as ours was pretty gunky. Thanks to Chris at Napa, they had one in stock.

After everything was set, we decided to utilize the Process of Elimination and test the car while running off the Newman Tank, to make sure nothing else was wrong besides the cold fuel in the main gas tank.

It started up perfectly again with the help of a jump-start. And it drove around town like nothing was wrong with it. It even powered up a steep logging road with no problems at all. So the problem was readily apparent, the problem was somewhere along the fuel line into the main gas tank and/or the oil itself.

We spent the next couple of hours checking our fuel filters along the fuel line.

While we were there, we helped a foreign visitor operate a gas pump, and even assisted another wary traveler by jump-starting his truck.

At around 1330, Dad came up with another plan. This time we needed more fuel hose.

So we hooked up the Newman Tank again, and headed on south to Mammoth Lakes, 10 miles at a time.

We were even checked on by a CHP officer.

Eventually, we made it to Mammoth Lakes and went back to the local Napa Auto Parts store.

Unfortunately, they didn't have long enough fuel hoses in stock. But they pointed us to where we could find one, at the "Do-It Center".

We pretty much spent the rest of the afternoon in the Do-It Center parking lot, pursuing different ideas to warm up our fuel enough to run in the engine.

Our first whacky idea was to run the fuel line out to the left side of the windshield, up along the roof and down into a 5 gallon tank in the rear-left passenger seat. We hoped the fuel would be warm enough on the inside and would keep warm when it got to the engine.

The plan had a chance, and it seemed as if it would work as fuel pumped through the clear hose. but alas, the fuel was getting cooled to quickly while outside the car and the fat was turning into lard in the filters.

What a major blow! We kept dismissing the Newman Tank, we weren't going to go almost 200 miles 10 miles at a time!

While biting into his tuna fish sandwich courtesy of Subway, dad got another idea.

"How about we coil the fuel line around the upper-radiator hose???"

Huzzah! Another plan that can't go wrong!

After running back into Do-It to get more hose, we put our plan together.

We then waited in bated breath as Dad turned the ignition key. The engine sputtered, revved, coughed, sputtered, then died.

GGGGAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

It was almost sundown, icicles were forming on every overhang on every roof, we were hundreds of miles away from the finish line, and the car wouldn't start. The temptation to just give in and buy diesel was SO strong. But could we bring ourselves to do it?

We had just braved the Sierras, below-freezing temperatures, and highways clearly built for the suicidal, now we're just gonna give up???

Our only other option became oh-so-painfully clear...

Sunday, Day 2, Part III

2008-10-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

So what's this crazy idea called a Newman Tank? We pulled back into the Shell station and popped the hood.

The grand idea was to place a small container inside the engine compartment next to the engine itself. We'd run the fuel hoses into the container, and fill the container with fry oil. This way, the heat inside the engine compartment would keep the fry oil inside the container warm.

"A fuel tank within the engine compartment with constant heat from the engine..."

At that point in time, the sun was setting, the wind chill was bringing the temperature lower and lower, we were almost shivering, any idea that could get us there faster was grand...

So immediately, Dad got right on it. Unfortunately, earlier in the race, we had recycled all the small containers that we subsequently emptied, but we luckily saved one... After rummaging around in the trunk, we found a container among the junk food and camping gear. It was a Kirkland Brand "Newman's Own" Grape Juice container, held about three quarts. It wasn't the best thing we could've used, but it was all we had.

So Dad then cut the fuel lines, plugged the ends leading back to the tank with pencils, and put the ends leading to the engine inside the grape juice container. We then tied everything down with zip-ties and filled up the container.

And voilá, the finished Newman Tank.

After a moment of silent prayers, we hooked up the jumper cables and started the Merc. It took a few tries, but by golly the engine started! And he ran like his old self too. The oil was getting warmed up, and the engine ran it just fine. Finally, with our morale boosted, we headed off to Lee Vining, a town nearby Mono Lake, as they might have auto parts.

Now, Lee Vining was over thirty miles away, and there were several hills to climb over to get there. And that accentuated the only major flaw the Newman Tank had, a 3 quart capacity. With three quarts, the Merc and his two-ton weight could only go about 12 miles on a flat grade before refilling. When going up a steep hill, it halved to about five or six miles.

In our first run, we made it five miles up the hill before the engine coughed and conked out. So we had to get out, pop the hood, stick a funnel into the container, pour in oil from one of our five gallon jugs; remove the funnel, oil rags, and anything else that shouldn't be there, shut the hood, put away the oil and any other miscellaneous items, get in the car, and go . . . Our first refueling stop took more than five minutes, not exactly Indy 500 pitstop material.

But we made it to the top of the hill. Luckily, with hills, there's usually another side to them, and that side is where you go downhill.

We went almost twenty miles on one tankful because we set the car in neutral and let the force of momentum carry our two-ton weight down the hill at 65 mph(we probably could've gotten up to 80 mph, but we didn't need a speeding ticket in our present situation).

Finally, after a few more refueling stops, we made it to Lee Vining. By then, it was after dark.

Unfortunately, the garage at the nearby Shell station was closed, and the nearest auto parts stores were further along in Mammoth Lakes, another 30 miles away, or 60 miles back in the direction of Bridgeport. We then ultimately decided that we wouldn't make it to the campsite at Lone Pine anytime soon, and that we should spend the night here. Thankfully Scott, the photo journalist, was a good sport about it and accepted it as it was.

So we went from motel to motel, looking for lodging for five people. To our luck, the Gateway Motel had a family suite open. After freezing our butts off in the mountains the previous night, anything with a roof and a bed would have sufficed.

Scott, the pack-mule.

Deciding our next course of action.

Ultimately, our decided next course of action was to get a warm plate of food. And what better place than Nicely's Diner across the street.

After our stomachs were full, we returned to the motel room. We got a call from Jake saying that Shannon and the Kristie's Flyer were staying at a campsite just down the street! This was good for Scott, as he now had a reliable transport to catch up with the remaining competitors.

So with our plans made, we turned in for a blessed nights sleep on a soft bed.

Sunday, Day 2, Part II

2008-10-16T02:47:00.000-07:00

Our first course of action after we sped out of the pristine campsite was to refuel the Merc, as we weren't allowed to fuel the car while "off the clock".

So we pulled to the side of the road, Dad donned his protective oil-resistant suit, and unloaded ten gallons of veggie-oil into the tank.

Scott's always getting the killer angles.

After we were done, we sped off down the road to brave the Ebbets and Monitor Passes in the mountains, a route that would soon turn fatal...

While zooming through the beautiful mountain-scape, we couldn't help but notice some quite noticeable engine fluctuations. The engine would constantly switch from full power to less than half, considerably slowing down the car.

It went away after a few minutes, we figured the oil was coagulating in the fuel pumps, but it got warm and usable. The next several hours was smooth sailing.

It doesn't help that the engine exhaust smells like bbq...

One of many quaint little towns along the mountainous route.

We stopped in the town of Arnold to grab a bite to eat and refuel our tank, little did we know that this would be the start of the series of unfortunate events...

Scott getting the same angle as last time.

The next one-hundred and fifty miles would be a menagerie of feelings from awe to despair. The surrounding mountains, trees, lakes, and snow, were things of beauty. But under the hood, things didn't look too well. As we went higher and higher in altitude, it got cooler and cooler to below freezing at some points. The oil started coagulating into lard and polymers in the oil filters, and barely any liquid fuel got to the engine. The engine was fluctuating even more, and wasn't letting up. We toughed through it at less-than half power, but our inability to even sustain 35mph. on a flat made us constantly pull over to let passing traffic by.

It turned out to be fine when we got to Ebbets Pass, where no one in the right mind would go more than 25mph. The road was a narrow single-lane, with NO guard rails, and ALWAYS a near-vertical cliff on one side. It was barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other. I gingerly steered the car through narrow switchbacks and any other variation of a windy road you can think of. After several hours of high pucker factor driving, we finally made it to the CA/395.

The fuel coagulation really started becoming a problem as we could barely sustain safe freeway speeds in a 65mph zone.

After another painstaking hour, Dad took over driving and we made our way to Bridgeport, where we stopped at the local Shell station to look at what was wrong.

The problem was what we expected, and more. The fuel, although heavily filtered, had a high concentration of fats. And in the cold, the fats would coagulate and plug up the fuel filters. The filter looks like it's filled with lard. As we warily trundled off to reach Mono Lake in hopes of an open auto parts store, Dad got an idea.

We drove back to the Bridgeport Shell station, where dad worked out his plan, the plan that would soon be known as, "The Newman Tank".

Sunday, October 12: Day 2

2008-10-15T19:50:00.000-07:00

Brrr...

I did NOT get a good nights rest. I had the wrong class sleeping bag, my head was exposed, I woke up every thirty minutes, miserable.

Things were miserable for the car too, the oil in the system was cold, the jugs of oil in the back seat were cold, and the battery wouldn't work.

The start-up process we had to perform would usually be more suitable to the likes of a sick child than a car. I guess the Merc had a cold.

We started off the morning by boiling water and making coffee, besides making coffee and oatmeal, the hot water would be used to heat up the fuel injection systems.

We had to use our chase vehicle to jump the car, as the battery wouldn't work on it's own.

This is Scott, the event photographer and Photo Journalist. He'll be hitching a ride with us for today's run.

When the water was boiling, Dad poured the water over the engine by spoon.

Yes. It's that exciting. You don't want to miss it.

We also heated up a pot of veggie-oil to aid in the start-up. (I guess it's that much more exciting, they brought a video camera.)

Which we spoon-fed into the gas tank.

Next-door...er, next campsite. Jack was getting his car prepped as well.

An hour and a organizer-held powwow later, we finally got the Merc running, albeit a little whiny.

By 1040, the last remaining competitors were arranged in a neat line.

Kristie's Flyer, although not competing, was there with us the whole way.

When the various propulsion devices were activated, the wave of Judge Michael Michael's hand started the second stage.

ZOOM!!!

Saturday, Day 1, Part II: Checkpoint 1.

2008-10-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

The race is on...

The only thought running through my head as we rambled down Ashby Avenue, was if we could make it to our first fuel pickup before running out of gas...er, oil.

The car could easily make 24mpg, but things change in urban driving. It takes allot of gas to get this two-tonned beast to move and to stop. And to top it all off, with only one gallon of oil sloshing around in the tank, there's a greater chance of air getting into the engine, which would stall it.

With all that about to happen, I gingerly navigated the Merc through the streets of Berkeley to our first pickup point, the Berkeley Seventh-Day Adventist Church, located 1.9 from the Labs.

Lucian the church's youth pastor, came out to meet us. They had a few gallons of Veggy Oil stashed away for us.

Many thanks to the church!

We then poured the fuel into the tank and made off to the first checkpoint, in Port Costa.

We started the race at 1055. At 1215 hours, we arrived at the first checkpoint.

When we pulled into the dirt lot in Port Costa, we found that none of the other competitors, and even some of the support crew, hadn't showed up yet.

And again, media and the public swarmed us since we were the only car there...

HsH stands idly and silent, waiting to get back on the road.

More picture taking.

HsH is finally FREE!!!

As we were leaving the first checkpoint, the Prisoners of Petroleum pulled up!

We left the first checkpoint, and headed to San Ramón for our next pickup.

Yes I know, we're not really "scavenging" per sé, we did call ahead to my fellow homeschoolers and family members for oil. Although it sounds easy, just going and picking up the oil, it's NOT.

All our pickup points, with exception of the Berkeley Church, were miles and miles off the race route. This would contribute to our missing the second checkpoint and arriving at the first campsite late.

We showed up at the San Ramón SDA church just in time to catch the end of the service.

The Chan family, my relatives, had organized the local Pathfinders club and home-schoolers to collect used oil. They collected over 20 gallons. Many thanks to them!

Promptly adding more gallons to the tank.

Our trunk is getting stuffed.

After saying our goodbyes, we left to go even farther off the route to hit Sunnyvale, where more of my relatives and school-mates had gathered oil.

We got there as they were preparing to go to a Pathfinder function.

That's allot of oil!!!

After filling up, we were hours behind schedule. We still had several hours to drive, and it was 1700 by then. Our second checkpoint was in Moccasin, Ca.

At 1800, I gave a call to Jess to see if we should go to the checkpoint or go directly to the campsite.

An hour and a half later, we got a call from Jake. He told me that the checkpoint had been closed down for the night and that we should proceed to the campsite.

Because we knew it would be hard to start the car in the morning due to the cold, we ran the car to an almost empty gas tank.

Putting in a splash of fuel to make it to the campsite.

We made it to camp to find the Green Team, Prisoners of Petroleum, and the Kristie Flyer lagered in the parking lot. Out of the thirteen registered competitors, only seven made it out the gate, and only four remained at the first campsite.

Starting up the stove.

We then set up camp, cursed the cold, tried to keep warm, and had a miserable night's sleep.

Saturday, Oct 11. DAY 1

2008-10-15T15:16:00.000-07:00

Rise and shine, there's a race to catch.

We all get up to a nice Saturday morning in Danville, where we're staying at Uncle Ray's and Auntie Lynda's house. Spend the morning eating breakfast and preparing to leave. Dad and Mom run off to Kragen's to pick up a fuel line so we can siphon our fuel tank empty for the start of the race.

We ended up leaving the house late, and arrived at the Shipyard Labs late because our nearly-empty fuel tank was letting air into the engine, causing us to drive carefully.

We arrived at the Labs a few minutes after 1000, and found out that they were waiting for us, whoops.

We managed to back the Merc into position before the public mobbed the car.

We spent the next half-hour answering questions and taking pictures.

Moi.

Hey Mister DJ!

Me and Jack, head of the Prisoners of Petroleum.

Competition!

Finally, the organizers grabbed all the racers from the hands of the media and had a meeting, where the waivers were signed and the info packets handed out.

Jake, Jess, and Rachel explaining the meaning of life for the next three days.

After the meeting, everyone went off to prepare or fuel their vehicles with the allotted gallon.

A gallon of fishy fish oil.

When everyone was ready, the National Anthem was sung by Paul J. Travitzky, a member of the green team.

Finally the racers made their final preparations, and by the call of the emcee, "start your whatever-the-hell-they-are"!

Shannon and the crew.

The Kristie's Flyer powering up.

MAX, looking hot.

At this point the Home-School Hero made his appearance.

And finally, one-by-one, the racers jetted out of the gate.

Photo Courtesy of Jim Wilson/New York Times

And off we go!

Photo by Samuel Coniglio

Photo by Samuel Coniglio

Photo by Samuel Coniglio

Photo by Samuel Coniglio

Friday, Oct. 10 2008

2008-10-10T23:16:00.000-07:00

Today was interesting, frustrating, easy going, and whacky fun.

After pulling in late to Uncle Mike's and Auntie Princess' house in San José on Thursday, we were hard pressed to get to "inspection" at the Shipyard Labs. Our car needed a jump to get started in the morning, which was alarming, and it contributed to us starting out late. Well, we got there at nigh-near 1200, really late we thought, but it turned out to be alright. The staff was very easy going, and even looked at our battery problem.

We then set out to look for a new battery. After hours of searching unsuccessfully, we returned to the Labs to attend the dinner party.

Again, we thought we arrived late, as we arrived only 10 minutes before 1730, when we thought the party would start. The party didn't start until 1900-ish, again we were saved!

Me and "The Merc".

MAX, Team Prisoners of Petroleum.

The Green Team

Judges and Steamer Crew.

Shipyard Ferry.

Giant Fire-Breathing Snail of Doom.

We even got interviewed by "The Daily Californian".

The night was filled with, fun fireblowing contraptions, meet & greets, technical explaining, great food, cameras, high levels of curiosity, and the great will to learn something new.

I think it was a great night to get to know the other competitors, and to come to realize that no matter what happens, we're here to have fun.

Gotta hit the sack, it's getting stuffy in this helmet.

'Till next time,

HsH

:First photo by Scott Beale / Laughing Squid :

Thanks to Our Supporters!

2008-10-08T14:06:00.000-07:00

Home-Schooled Heroes would like to thank all our sponsors for our escape from Berkeley!

LLL Variegated Enterprises - Redlands, Ca.
Stanley and Lomina Chan
Rudy and Lily Llaguno
Kerwin Reiswig
Members of the San Ramon SDA Church (Headed by Lynda Chan)
Members of the Bellflower SDA Church
Members of the Berkeley SDA Church
Michael G. Leong Pediatric Dentistry - Sunnyvale, Ca.
Members of the Sunnyvale SDA Church (Headed by Princess Leong)
Combat Quarters Collectibles - Loma Linda, Ca.
Kusina Restaurant - Loma Linda, Ca.
Gordon Chan
Carlos Garbutt
Sylvia, Jeff, Alicia, and Julia Chin
Terry, David, Aleka, and Lars Quinonez
Kopitiam Restaurant - Lafayette, Ca.
Pleasant Asian Cuisine - Pleasanton, Ca.