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Silly bomb stories and things that go bang - rather long.

To: "Friends of Triumph" <fot@autox.team.net>
Subject: Silly bomb stories and things that go bang - rather long.
From: "John Macartney" <jonmac@ndirect.co.uk>
Date: Fri, 4 Feb 2000 22:54:13 -0000
This has all been very interesting - and a source of great amusement. Wish I'd 
been able
to get my hands on cherry bombs in my youth. My own story involves a big bang - 
but its
effects were rather more costly. In fact, as a result of my actions, I started 
my career
at Standard Triumph.
In 1965, some misguided soul at the Rolls Royce Aero Engine Division in Derby 
thought I
would be suitable for training as an interpreter. I admit at the very outset 
that nepotism
played a large part in this, as an uncle (who I loathed with a passion that 
defies
description was Director of Engineering). Part of my training involved a period 
of six
months working in the Engine Test beds where we ran re-conditioned units and 
calibrated
them before release to airlines and aircraft manufacturers.
Seemingly, I did quite well on the re-con units and was 'passed as competent' 
to test Spey
Juniors. Can't remember which aircraft they went in but they had a fabulous 
'crack' at
what was commonly known as the arse end.
One week, I found myself on a three hour shift with two chums. One was the 
'driver,' one
looked after fuel pressure, lube and jet pipe temperature, while the third 
watched
instruments - mainly
measuring thrust.
Every hour we switched jobs. The task was cyclical - start, push off from stand 
at ground
idle, taxi, take-off standby, full power for take-off, climb, cruise, descend, 
land, taxi,
idle, shut down. Mind-blowingly exciting and it was interesting to note how 
sensitive the
engine was to the most minuscule movements on the throttle lever.
It was my turn to 'drive' and we'd done a couple of complete cycles entirely 
without
incident. On the third cycle, we were theoretically about 1000 feet up, on 
absolute full
power and all the instruments were giving the most encouraging readings. At 
that moment, I
felt a sneeze coming on. There was a standing instruction that in the event of 
sneezes,
flatulence or any other similar bodily condition, the cycle was to be aborted 
and PDQ.
It seemed a pity to do that, so I thought I'd got the throttle lever properly 
wedged
between finger and thumb. Thus 'locked' I enjoyed my sneeze - definitely one of 
the better
ones I can do from time to time.
Unfortunately .........
....... in sneezing, I was aware the throttle moved ever so slightly, so I 
quickly moved
it back to where I thought it had been before sneezing and then I nidged it 
forwards just
a teeny weeny little bit - at least, I think it was a little bit.
I wish I'd seen it happen - but the steel plate in front of the test cell 
window had
already fallen into place.
The noise from the other side would have made a gunfight at the OK Corrall pale 
to
insignificance - even if John Wayne had been firing all the guns single handed. 
Be
assured, third stage compressor blades and first stage turbine blades flying 
around at
random doing about 100,000rpm in the process, sounds like real surround-sound 
ricochets.
The shaft snapped like a carrot across the centre main bearing and either end 
propelled
themselves with a degree of rapidity down the air intake tunnel and jet pipe 
respectively.
Highly successful and certainly impressive! I later learned the cell was out of 
use for
nearly three months.
This was all the result of the sneeze. In that very brief interval, the fuel 
pump had
detected a demand for increased flow, the engine started to speed up - and then 
I slowed
it down, only to increase it again. In broad summary, there was an excess of 
fuel,
insufficient air, then excess air and reduced fuel. Poor old Spey (it wasn't 
old - it was
brand new) didn't know what was going on and so it went BANG - big time.
In what was probably half a nanosecond, a man appeared at the test cell door 
saying
something along the lines of, "I say, is everything alright?"
I confessed I'd sneezed.
Half an hour later, with a week's pay in my pocket and the admonitions of my 
late uncle
ringing in my ears - that day was not one of his better ones, I was on my way 
home.
Dad met me an hour or so later.
"Strange to see you mid-week?"
"Mm. I've just been sacked."
"Ah, I hope you made it worth their while? Any ideas of where you might go to 
work now?"
"I thought maybe I'd try to get a job at Standard?"
"Well, you'd better get over there."
An hour later I was having an interview.
"Why did you leave Rolls Royce?"
"I was sacked."
"Why?"
"I blew up a jet engine on test."
"Well, our employees blow up engines on test but we don't sack them."
"With respect, I doubt your engines cost the better part of half a million 
pounds each?"
"That's an important distinction. We'd be happy to offer you a job in our Export
Department. Can you start on Monday?"
I did - and the rest is history.

Jonmac




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