The Woulda Coulda Shoulda Guide to Canadian Inventions

by Red Green

  Credit 59

  Born on April 16, 1907, in Valcourt, Quebec, Joseph-Armand Bombardier invented the snowmobile. It was born out of the tragedy of his son not being able to receive crucial medical attention during a blizzard.

  Not wanting anybody else to have to suffer that kind of loss, Bombardier designed a vehicle that could move through heavy snow. It had a caterpillar-track system that used a rubber-toothed wheel and a rubber-and-cotton track that wrapped around the back wheels.

  It had pretty much the same design they still use today. A lot of us owe plenty to Monsieur Bombardier.

  As we say at the Lodge, “Those who can ski, do. Those who can’t, SkiDoo.”

  I think this is a great invention because it saves lives and helps people deal with their environment, but mainly because I’m a man. And when you’re a man, you believe anything that can be done, can be done better with an internal combustion engine.

  We like the power, we like the noise, we like the smoke, we even like the smell. Even sex would be better if we could somehow strap on a two-cycle reciprocating engine. I’m not exactly sure how it would work, but the thought of it puts a smile on my face.

  For hundreds of years men rode horses and paddled canoes and walked. We’re done with that. What’s the point of going fishing if you don’t have a two-hundred-horsepower Evinrude strapped to the transom? Hells Angels don’t ride bicycles. Why chop down a tree with an axe when you have a forty-eight-inch chainsaw with a supercharger? Man is the only animal in nature that runs towards an explosion. We love ’em. That’s the appeal of internal combustion engines—you get a thousand explosions a minute. When we hear them, we’re moved both physically and emotionally.

  Men like moving. It makes them tougher targets and allows them to get away from the results of their mistakes. Electric cars may be the wave of the future, but they’ll never be able to replace the thrill of a big-block V-8 roaring to life. You’ve only got one life to live—live it peeling rubber.

  —

  The most interesting aspect of the snowmobile is that it is really just one of three very similar machines. Like a good Thanksgiving dinner, the ability to put a belt in motion is the primary engineering component for all three. Monsieur Bombardier devised his machine to have a drive roller at the front and an idler roller at the back, and then a series of bogey wheels to position the track so that it would carry the weight of the vehicle to the ground, which provided traction and propulsion.

  If you take the same design but have the front and rear rollers mounted on brackets, those brackets would carry the weight of the machine. The belt would have no traction and no propulsion, and instead of a snowmobile, you would have a treadmill.

  If you then take off the short belt and replace it with one a hundred feet long or more, by simply removing the bogey wheels and adding more idler rollers, then instead of a treadmill, you would have a conveyor belt.

  Doesn’t it make more sense to combine all three of these into one? Not necessarily, but we’re going to do it anyway.

  The first step is to get a section of roller bed like the kind they used to use in North American factories back when North America had factories. You can get a used one pretty cheap because it’s expensive to ship them to China. The longer the better, but I would say fifty feet would be a minimum.

  You’ll probably have to pick it up in sections, as there’s only so much you can safely balance on the roof of a minivan. When you put the sections together it needs to be pretty strong, so don’t spare the duct tape. Once you’ve got it all connected, check all the rollers to make sure they’re all lubed up and ready to roll.

  Next, you’ll need a belt long enough to go around the rollers. That would be a little over a hundred feet. Preferably made of rubber or canvas, but in a pinch you could go to an upholstery shop and get a roll of Naugahyde. You may have to patch together a few pieces to make it work, so I suggest you either double-stitch ’em or use safety pins. You might think a bunch of suspenders clipped together would work instead, but I can tell you from experience, you would be dead wrong.

  The next step is pretty easy. Pick up your snowmobile and put it on one end of the belt. Tie the skis tightly to the supporting legs of the roller bed with tie-down straps.

  Now you have an instant conveyor belt able to convey whatever it is you’re trying to convey. And possibly a little more than that. Just start up the snowmobile, put it in gear (not reverse) and you’ll be able to vary the speed from fast to really fast. And it’s even easier to make it a treadmill—just get on it. In fact, you and your friends can all exercise at the same time.

  (On a safety note—make sure you’re the one closest to the snowmobile. That way, if things go wrong, you’ll have lots of people to land on.)

  And to make it into a snowmobile, just untie the tie-down straps, put it in gear (again, not reverse) and let ’er rip. Talk about fun.

  To see what Possum Lodge member Blair Cobden did with his snowmobile, go to the Book of Inventions page at redgreen.com and click on “Snowmobile.”

  SOLAR PANEL

  Although the solar panel was not a Canadian invention, it does have a Canadian connection. In the late ’50s and early ’60s, Northwest Territories resident and Possum Lodge member Sven Boldarov got hooked on the concept of solar panels but was looking for an invention that would work better in the north, where it’s night for so much of the year.

  Sven Boldarov, Lodge Member and “Go-To” Idea Guy

  After reading a couple of pamphlets and thinking for a minute or two, Sven decided to invent “lunar panels.” His plan was to arrange a substantial number of photovoltaic cells in series on a large grid, in order to harness the light from the moon. He started by stapling seven thousand bicycle reflectors to the roof of his barn.

  Sven didn’t have equipment sensitive enough to read the actual voltage achieved, but he said it hovered around zero. No one in the scientific community questioned that. Sven was

  undaunted, which is unfortunate. He gave a press conference where he explained the disappointing results by reminding the naysayers that the moon is tricky because it has various phases and some nights it isn’t there at all. There were no questions.

  Sven decided to massively expand the number and size of his lunar panels by covering every horizontal surface on his property with reflectors. He rented airspace from his neighbours so that he could suspend large, horizontal, reflector-filled billboards above their land. He collected the energy for a month and stored it in a huge grid of rechargeable camera batteries. At the end of the month, when he turned the juice on, the batteries contained enough power to briefly illuminate the indicator light above the on/off switch. Sven vowed he would never give up, but his wife reminded him of another vow he’d made and he immediately dismantled all the lunar panels and went back to his accounting job.

  —

  We can only speculate as to what the future holds in the area of converting the sun’s rays to usable electric power. Research is already in place to develop an automobile paint that contains billions of microscopic photovoltaic cells capable of generating enough power to run the vehicle. Next they’d put it into asphalt so that every road and parking lot would become a source of electricity. If this same technology could be injected into the bloodstream at the molecular level, it could use the body’s own circulatory system to embed these receptors in the human skin, effectively making every person a living solar panel. Power to the people.

  Rechargeable batteries could be concealed in their shorts and receive electrical energy through a USB port located somewhere in the rectal area. Suddenly bald guys would be electric, string bikinis would help save the planet, and fat people would be able to power their own soft-ice-cream machines. Kids everywhere would rejoice when sunscreen was banned.

  And if you really open your mind up, we could use the other planets in our solar system as energy sources. All we’d need to do is cover them with panels and then find a way to send the power back to earth. Ma
ybe we could email it. Or if that’s too expensive, we could text it.

  SONAR

  Reginald Fessenden

  Credit 60

  A lot of people were shocked and stunned by the Titanic tragedy of 1911, but Reginald Fessenden of East Bolton, Quebec (see also this page), decided not to stay that way. He got to work on inventing the Fessenden oscillator. What a thrill it must have been to have an oscillator named after you.

  This machine could detect underwater objects, such as icebergs or submarines, by sending out sounds and then picking up their echoes. In recent times it has also come in handy for finding snowmobiles at the bottom of the lake. In 1915, ten British H-class submarines were launched from Montreal. Every one of ’em had a Fessenden oscillator, and they weren’t afraid to use them.

  We’re not exactly sure when the name got changed to sonar, but the story around the Lodge is that there was already a product with a similar name to the Fessenden oscillator and it was already on sale in many adult stores. Almost everyone in the navy was familiar with that product, so to avoid confusion and embarrassing injury, they started calling this new gadget sonar.

  —

  I’m not absolutely sure how sonar works. On the other hand, I don’t know how a coffee machine works, either, but I can still drink the stuff. Maybe sonar measures the time it takes for the echo to come back. I know sound travels at 1,100 feet per second (faster if you yell), so if the bottom of the ocean was 5,500 feet down, the echo might take ten seconds to bounce back (five seconds to get there, five more to get back). But when you come to an underwater mountain or shipwreck or a big hole, the echo would take longer or shorter and you could figure out the size and shape of the object by converting the different time results to differences in size and structure.

  This is just my guess as to how sonar works. I suppose I could have looked it up, but I’m way too busy writing this book to do any research for it. I’m also thinking sonar is probably obsolete by now, with all the high-powered laser beams and robot subs they have these days. It’s hard to invent any kind of technology that lasts long. You’re better to focus on creating new things for the human race. The human body has not had a major design change since Adam coughed up a rib.

  —

  The Hedgeworth twins of Mercury Creek had always been fascinated with sound. They would sit in the back of the classroom and make experimental noises by cupping their hands and squeezing them under their armpits. They were able to tell how far the teacher was from them by how long till they heard the scream.

  Hedgeworth Twins, Shared a Lodge Membership Credit 61

  What soon became known as the Hedgeworth cheer got them a lot of laughs, very few dates and an occasional trip to the principal’s office. Naturally, they were interested in the theory behind sonar and were looking to find other applications that used the same science—the ability to identify the shape and size of unseen objects just by measuring the time it took for sound waves to bounce back. They would often go downtown with a stopwatch and yell at tall buildings to determine how far away they were.

  They abandoned this technique because there were too many variables. The volume of the yell, the hearing of the listener, the speed and direction of the wind all gave the boys a wide range of results from the same test. The problem was made worse by the fact that people could just look at a building and have a pretty good idea of how far away it was. Also, nobody cared, which was a setback.

  So the Hedgeworths decided to abandon the approach of using sound and echo, which had already been perfected by Fessenden. Instead, they experimented with solid objects that they would bounce off random surfaces and use the return rate to determine the distance and form of those surfaces. They started by using tennis balls, but found them no good for long throws and really vulnerable to wind conditions.

  Ultimately, they went with an India rubber ball, which gave them much more reliable data. One brother would put on a blindfold and allow the other brother to hurl the India rubber ball at a surface. The ball would return at speed and strike the blindfolded brother somewhere in the chest area. This process would be repeated until the entire surface had been scanned. Then the first brother would remove the blindfold and by merely looking at the size, pattern and level of discolouration of the bruises, he was able to deduce the shape and relative distance of the surface the ball had been bouncing off of. Onlookers were able to make several more deductions, none of them flattering.

  The brothers went to the municipal office to apply for a patent, but instead were sent to the Ministry of Health, where they eventually received the psychiatric care they so desperately needed. They bounced back in no time.

  STANDARD TIME

  Sir Sandford Fleming

  Credit 62

  Sir Sandford Fleming was born in Scotland in 1827 and grew up there, but by the time he was eighteen, his family had moved to Canada. Most people, present company excluded, knew he was famous for helping create the Royal Society of Canada and the Royal Canadian Institute and played a big part in designing a lot of Canada’s Intercontinental Railway. But his biggest achievement was establishing standard time. Somebody had to do it. It was time.

  After missing a train in Ireland in 1876, Sir Sandford got the idea for a single twenty-four-hour clock that the whole world could use. I might have suggested not going out drinking in Ireland the night before an early morning train ride, but what do I know? In 1879, he proposed that this world clock be linked to the anti-meridian of Greenwich (the 180th meridian). Fleming suggested that standard-time zones should be used locally, but all would be so many hours plus or minus what he called “Cosmic Time.” Far out, man.

  Standard time was obviously a great invention, but I gotta tell ya, this one is a head-scratcher. According to the history books, people started telling time using sundials and obelisks around 2,000 BCE. Sir Sandford finally got the process standardized in 1879. To me, that means that humans managed to be unbelievably stupid for almost four thousand years. What is the point of telling time if we don’t synchronize our watches? “I’ll meet you at the pub at eight thirty.” “Okay, what time do you have now?” “Three fifteen.” “That’s weird, my watch says 11:27.” “Nope. It’s three fifteen.” “Tell you what, I’ll meet you at the pub at sundown.” “Done.” “And don’t forget, they close at 2:09.”

  I’m prepared to cut a little slack for those who were using sundials, because the sun shines a little differently everywhere you go. But when they switched to something with a pendulum or a mainspring, there’s really no excuse. It’s actually worse than no excuse, it’s stupid. I think they knew something was wonky. They tried to fix it with a big clock in the middle of town that everybody could see and set their watches to, but the guy who set that big clock had no idea what time it was. So it wasn’t a perfect solution.

  Until Sir Sandford fixed this mess, there should only have been two times of day—light and dark. Anything in between was a flat-out guess. They called it a watch, but it was really just a bracelet.

  And can you imagine the guys who had to deal with standard time when it first came out? The boss could finally prove that you were actually late for work. Or worse, your wife could do the same for when you got home. I’m guessing that was a rude wake-up call for a lot of men who were used to getting off by just setting their own watches differently throughout the day. That’s why some guys like the Lodge so much—we have basically reverted to hunger pains and possum squeals to tell us what time it is.

  —

  Throughout history, time has been one of the most confusing elements. I personally have been exposed to many conflicting theories on the subject. Time flies. Time drags on. Time stands still. Time waits for no man (but almost every woman). Time is of the essence. Take as much time as you need. It’s time. It’s not time. You need a timeout. Time’s up. Time starts now. Not this time. Maybe next time. Don’t do what you did last time.

  Maybe Sir Sandford managed to get everybody in the world on the same schedule, b
ut I don’t believe you can completely standardize time because, as my soulmate Albert Einstein said, “Time is relative.” I agree with that. Time goes much slower when you spend it with your relatives. Nobody can convince me that time travels at the same speed when you’re enjoying a romantic interlude as it does when you’re having a root canal. I have more theories on the subject, but I’m out of time.

  Rory Ipkiss, Lodge Member with Time On His Hands Credit 63

  Lodge member Rory Ipkiss tried to revert the town back to sundial technology back in the ’80s. He claimed that the sundial was more accurate, more energy-efficient and had stood the test of time in terms of reliability.

  One night he set a massive sundial in the main town square of Possum Lake. Rory ingeniously positioned the dial so that the shadow fell on his office building at 9 a.m., the deli at noon and the bar at 5:30 p.m. Best of all, there was no shadow once the sun went down, so he never missed curfew coming home.

  Possum Lake agreed to try the sundial method, but three days later there was a cloudy day and none of the kids came in after recess. The sundial was toppled, as was Rory’s good name. He spent the rest of his life living in the shadow of his great idea.

  To see my patent-pending beer bottle clock, go to the Book of Inventions page at redgreen.com and click on “Clock.”

  SUPERMAN