G -1

by Kyle Thomas Bruhnke

  Then it’s just Jared and me again for the rest of the afternoon. It takes the better part of three hours to fit and accurately space all of the skirts on the ribs. When we finally get the last one clamped, the eighth space between ribs eight and one, are a couple of inches too wide. So we divide the overage by eight, and go back and adjust all of them.

  There isn’t much conversation. The elation we felt at noon has disappeared. But as we finish up and walk towards the door, Jared turns around to look at the saucer. I copy his movement, and I’m pleased with the sight.

  “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Jared says with satisfaction.

  “More like a saucer every day,” I agree.

  Cutting and Welding

  I’m not very excited when I finally show up at the hangar on Monday. Jared pops up from inside the cowling. “So what’d you do all weekend?” he asks when I’ve walked in far enough. “I thought you’d be hanging around here helping Willie and me?”

  “Dad kept me busy. I told Kylie when she called. Didn’t she tell you?” I ask flatly.

  “She said something about painting the nursery, but I still figured you’d find time.”

  “Well, I didn’t. How’d it go over here?” Truth is, I needed some time away from the saucer. Anxiety had been building up in me throughout the previous week. I’m still trying to understand it so that maybe I can conquer it. Jared just keeps on talking.

  “When’s she due?” I hear from somewhere.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re mom! When’s she due?”

  “In December sometime. Late December.”

  “A Christmas baby. Some present!”

  “I guess,” I reply with little enthusiasm.

  “Oh c’mon. You’ll like having a little sister.”

  “Yeah? Like you do? All you’ve done for most of the nine years I’ve known you is complain about Kylie.”

  “That’s all part of it, man. And when we were younger, she was a major pain in the butt. But now… it’s like she’s becoming more independent, and… I don’t know. She’s just more fun.”

  “You mean her friends are more fun, don’t you?”

  “Well, that’s a small side benefit, if they ever come over, which isn’t often. But she doesn’t nag me to help her with whatever she’s doing anymore. I kind of miss it.”

  “You taught her well.”

  “You think?” he asks, sounding surprised. “Yeah. Maybe I did. Anyway, I think you’ll like it.”

  “In eleven or twelve years you mean.”

  “You’ll be famous by then,” he adds, ignoring me. “With what we’re doing here, we’ll all be famous.”

  “Or dead from trying.”

  “What?” Jared stares down at me. “You get up here and see how solid this bird is and forget that thought. It’s as safe as anything NASA puts up there.” He gestures broadly towards the ceiling.

  I make my way under the ribs and up through the cowling. Jared is standing on some boards he and Willie put in place to sit on while welding the inside joints of the ribs. I can see Jared’s welds have improved but they’re still rough. Willie’s are smooth and even from a few years of experience. Jared acknowledges the difference, too.

  “Aren’t those beautiful?” he exclaims, pointing to Willie’s work. Then, sounding a little envious, “I hope I can do that someday.”

  “Me too,” I mumble, not really thinking.

  “Thanks man,” Jared responds, pretending to be offended. Then he punches my arm, confirming the play. “So, we’ll start today by removing some supports from under the ribs.”

  “Well, let’s get busy mister,” I suggest, trying to use the stale old joke to spark my interest. Jared shakes his head at my attempt and then climbs out to begin.

  Since the ribs are welded solid, removing the jack stands is easy. We do opposite sides to keep the balance even, though I don’t think it would make any difference; the thing is solid.

  “Willie checked our measurements for the skirts and said they were ready to weld,” Jared informs me as we get closer to having the jacks removed. “That’s what I’m going to do for the rest of the day.”

  “I guess I’ll cut the short ribs then,” I reply. I don’t like cutting much. It gets boring real quick, but it seems that’s my job in this venture.

  “I could teach you how to weld,” Jared suggests, seeming to sense my distaste.

  “Maybe later.”

  “Willie thinks we can attach the short ribs at the center of the spars.”

  “I kind of figured that.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Jared says with a smile.

  We finish carrying all of the jack materials to the back of the hangar to get them out of the way. With the area clear, the ribs hang like giant umbrella spokes without fabric on them. Even with just the clamps holding the skirt pieces properly spaced, they look pretty solid.

  As Jared rolls the welder into position to start working, I track down the measuring tape. The slots have already been cut for the spars, so I measure between two of the ribs and add two inches for the tabs. The height of the ribs is down to five inches at this point.

  I write the dimensions down, labeling the corresponding tabs to make sure I get the piece I’m cutting back in the right spot. Even though we’ve been careful with all of our previous measurements, I’m going to measure the length of each spar just to make sure.

  I hear a clank and look up to see Jared grinning. He’s finished both sides of the first rib/skirt weld and loosened the clamp which had fallen to the floor. He signals everything is okay, and I watch as he slides over to weld the skirt pieces together.

  “Hey! Wait a minute!” I yell, hopping over the spar I had ready to cut and hurrying over to him.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks, looking up at me.

  “Well, I was wondering if it would be a good idea to wait on joining the skirts together until after all of the spars are in place and we cut the short ribs, just to make sure the diameter for them is the same as the long ribs.”

  He looks at me quizzically. Then he eyes the distance from the skirt back to where the spar would be attached. “I guess that makes sense,” he concurs. “And it would probably help to be able to move the ribs to slide your spars into place, too.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Okay, good,” I respond. “I’ll have some spars ready by the time you’ve made the rest of the rib/skirt welds.”

  He waves me away and rolls over to the next weld. Back at my cutting area, I double-check my measurements before I begin. I don’t want to mess up and have to go back out to the graveyard to harvest more material.

  We work on opposite sides of the saucer. He is moving a little faster with the welds than I am with the spars now that the length of the welds is a third of the length it had been around the cowling. I take a look at one of the newest welds when I finally get around to where he had started. They are getting better, but still not as good as Willie’s.

  Jared has finished all but two welds, but I still have five pieces to cut when we break for lunch. With the mini-fridge here, and Jared bringing out a fresh gallon of water every morning, Kylie has no reason to brave the heat to visit us. Jared mentions that Jennifer had stopped by the Sunday before and had been amazed at our progress.

  “She wants to know how we’re planning to attach the containment field canisters to the cowling,” he says.

  “That’s a good question,” I reply.

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “There are a lot of things I don’t know about this project,” I say defensively, “but somehow everything has worked out okay so far.”

  “Well, this has been the easy part,” Jared points out. “When we start with the electronics and everything, it’s going to get a lot tougher. At least that’s what I think.”

  “And I think you’re right. And I think between the six of us, we’ll be able to figure it out and put it all together.”

  I try to sound confident as muc
h to encourage myself as to reassure him. The last thing I need is a bunch of up-tight coworkers. And it sure seems like work right now.

  “Six?” he wonders out loud, like he’s trying to figure it out. “Oh yeah. Gramps too.”

  “Yeah. Without him there would be no point in doing the rest of this.” I wave back over my shoulder to include the saucer in our talk. “He’s doing most of the circuitry design. I don’t think any of us would have been able to figure that stuff out. At least not in the time we want to do it.”

  Jared nods agreement. We finish lunch and get back to work cutting and welding.

  Most nights I get home, have dinner and head up to the loft to think about things like attaching the containment field tubes and how much wiring will have to be done. In that assessment Jared is right; it will be the harder endeavor.

  Sometimes Gramps will come up and help reason things through. At other times, he encourages me to discuss problems with everybody else, saying something like, ‘Everyone’s got their own unique thoughts and ways to solve problems.’ Then he smiles at me and says goodnight. I’m glad he’s on the team.

  Tuesday is much the same. Jared starts welding the spars I’ve been cutting. I ask him to weld the opposite side pieces first, and I interrupt him often for help measuring the short ribs. Turns out I was correct in thinking we should wait to weld the skirts together. In a couple of cases they have to be pushed out about an inch and a half so the diameter remains constant for the full ribs and the short ribs.

  As I’m cutting the short ribs, I think about that first day we were out scavenging in the junk yard. It seems like a long time ago, but I remember Willie saying, ‘We should take these shorties back too. We might need ‘em.’ I figure it was his experience fixing up cars that made him consider possibilities I couldn’t think of. For me it was a question of what was needed just to get the job started. For the engineer in him, it seemed to be a matter of being ready for the unexpected.

  Jared starts welding the short ribs after lunch. I help clamp them up, doing opposite sides again so we can measure the diameter one more time to make sure it’s correct. We also measure out from the cowling to ensure that distance is the same on both sides too.

  It takes him longer to finish a section now. Not only is he welding the ribs, but also the overlapping ends of the skirt pieces. I’m able to work a little more leisurely now that I don’t have to keep ahead of him supplying the next piece to weld. Sizing the short ribs has been the easiest of the cuts, usually needing only one end to be cut to get them to the proper length. I think Jared is getting annoyed though, since I’m constantly interrupting his welding for help with the measuring.

  When I finish cutting, I begin clamping the new pieces as the previous ones cool off. Jared is able to work a little more quickly, but it looks like he won’t be able to finish by the end of the afternoon.

  I’m glad to have the time in between assisting him. I wander around the saucer, looking at welds and tapping them firmly to test their strength. At one point I pull up on a section and he yells at me for moving the weld he is trying to make. Everything feels real solid which does ease my mind a bit.

  “Hey! Come here a minute!” he shouts as he finishes another section. As I come up to him he hangs the torch up and removes the gloves. “I’m not going to be able to finish this today. I thought maybe I could show you how to do this and you could finish tomorrow.” It almost sounds like a question.

  “Why? Where are you going to be?”

  “Jen and I are going to the Butte for the day.”

  “You’re taking the day off?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yeah man. I’ve been working on this thing for ten days straight. I need a day away from it and tomorrow is Jen’s day off so we’re going.” He has a defiant edge to his voice.

  I know how he feels. And I know how he is when he gets too wound up. “Okay. Sure,” I relent. He smiles. “Where do I start?”

  “Well, let’s start on some scrap. Why don’t you go grab some leftovers from your cutting area?”

  I trot over to get the practice pieces. I feel a little excitement about learning to weld even though it’s something I’ve been trying to avoid. I look at the aluminum I’m carrying back to practice on. I have always heard aluminum is really hard to weld.

  He hands me the gloves. “Put these on first.” They are hot and sweaty from protecting his hands all day. The rough leather feels harsh. “Do you want the vest?”

  “Not right now, thanks,” I say hesitantly.

  “Well, make sure you bring a long sleeved cotton shirt tomorrow.”

  “What for?”

  “Because the UV coming off the arc is strong enough to give you a good burn,” he explains. “This thing will burn you quicker than the sun.”

  “Is that the reason for the helmet?”

  “That and eye damage.” He looks down at my shoes. “You should probably wear some leather boots, too.”

  “Is that what Willie told you?”

  “Heck no! My dad taught me some of this stuff a long time ago. I was fourteen I think. Willie’s lesson was really more of a refresher course for me.” He grabs the second helmet, then points to a gauge. “See this?” he asks. You should never need more than eight PSI. And make sure you turn it off when your done.”

  “This setup looks pretty old.”

  “Yeah. Twenty-eight years I think Willie said. That’s one reason his dad’s letting us use it.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  “I guess they’ve been using a laser welder for a couple of years now. This one’s kept around for backup mostly.” He walks over to the other box. “There’s a big transformer in here to convert AC current to DC. This dial here, regulates the maximum current going to the welder. You should never have to touch this.”

  “Good,” I reply.

  He picks up the torch. Pointing to the tip, “This is tungsten; the T in TIG. It’s surrounded by a ceramic cone through which the gas flows. This creates an oxygen free environment for the weld to take place.” He points at a foot pedal. When you depress the pedal, the gas begins to flow and the electricity is ready to strike an arc. The more you press the pedal, the more you get.”

  “How do I know how much to press?”

  “You’ll see it when you weld and the more you weld, the better feel you’ll have for it.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  “I know. That’s just how it works,” he says with a knowing look. He picks up the grounding cable and attaches it to the practice pieces I have brought over. “Okay. Go at it,” he says, like I’m supposed to know what to do now.

  I pull the shield down over my eyes. “Hey! How do I know where to start?” My voice sounds muffled.

  “Line up the torch for the weld as you pull the shield down. When the arc starts, you’ll have plenty of light.” It almost sounds like he is humored by my inexperience. I just pass it off as him being Jared and me being new to welding.

  I raise the shield. First I put the pedal where it is easy to control with my foot. Then I line up the torch, lower the shield and give the pedal a nudge. The arc jumps out just like Jared said it would. I watch as it cuts through my test pieces, pools of molten aluminum dripping to the floor. I pull back on the pedal to stop the process and flip my shield up for a look.

  I see a gaping hole between the two pieces. I look at Jared. “What went wrong?”

  I notice now he seems to be grinning at me, like some joke has just been told. “What didn’t you do?”

  “How should I know,” I say becoming annoyed. “I did as you instructed me.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve been watching me for almost a week and a half. What do I always to right before I start?”

  To be honest, I hadn’t really paid much attention because I didn’t think I’d ever do any of the welding. Then I spot the brush. “Clean the metal?”

  “Yep, and here’s why. Aluminum oxidizes, which creates a thin protective film over the m
etal. That film melts at over 3700 degrees while aluminum melts at around 1200. What happened just now is the aluminum reached its melting point before the oxide and dripped away.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before I started?”

  “Because this way you’re more likely to remember.”

  “Is that what Willie says?”

  “No. That’s what my dad says and it’s how he taught me and I never forgot it since.”

  I guess it makes sense in a stupid sort of way. Shoot yourself in the foot once, and you’ll never do it again. Hopefully. Jared is handing me the brush.

  “It’s stainless steel,” he says as I take it. “Don’t ever let it get dirty with anything else or it will introduce contaminants to the weld area.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I take the brush and clean the next couple of inches on my test piece. “Here we go again.” I get my foot in place, line up the weld, close the shield and strike an arc.

  This time it goes much better. I become keenly aware of the crackle I have heard so many times when Jared has been welding. It’s interesting to hear the noise and watch the arc do its work. When I complete a three inch weld, I stop to take a look.

  “Pretty good,” Jared compliments as we look at the weld, “but a little thin, I think.” Then he holds out a filler rod to me. “This is the final step.”

  I clean another section of my test pieces to prepare for another weld. I am starting to feel good about this, like it is more of an art than a shop thing. I can understand how Willie, or Jared too, maybe, would think this is really fun.

  “Just feed a little filler in as you go along this time,” Jared instructs. “Hold it just off the seam of the two pieces.”

  I flip my shield down and start the weld. I can see the filler joining with the aluminum from both pieces, but for the first time I became aware that the only change in color around the weld is a slight silvery sheen, no glowing red indication that the metal is hot like I’ve seen with steel.