Wheels (17 page)

11 It was a perennial question from a product planner to an engineer. The
product men regularly accused engineers of building in, everywhere,
greater strength margins than necessary, thus adding to an automobile's
cost and weight while diminishing performance. Product Planning was apt
to argue: If you let the Iron Rings have their way, every car would have
the strength of Brooklyn Bridge, ride like an armored truck, and last
as long as Stonehenge. Taking an adversary view, engineers declaimed:
Sure, we allow margins because if something fails we're the ones who
take the rap. It product planners did their own engineering, they'd
achieve light weight-most likely with a balsawood chassis and tinfoil
for the engine block.
"There's no engineering protection there
.”

It was Jameson's turn to be
huffy. "We've reduced the NVH to what we believe is an acceptable level.
If we went a more complicated route-which would cost more-we could
probably take it out
entirely. So far we haven't .
“
Adam said noncommittally, 'We'll see what this does
.”

Jameson led the way as the trio climbed a metal stairway from the
inspection level to the main floor of the Noise and Vibration Laboratory
above.
The lab-a building at the proving ground which was shaped like an
airplane hangar and divided into specialist work areas, large and small
-was busy as usual with NVH conundrums tossed there by various divisions
of the company. One problem now being worked on urgently was a
high-pitched, girlish-sounding scream emitted by a new-type brake on
diesel locomotives. Industrial Marketing had enjoined sternly: The
stopping power must be retained, but locomotives should sound as if
being braked, not raped.
Another poser-this from Household Products Division-was an audible click
in a kitchen oven control clock; a competitor's clock, though less
efficient, was silent. Knowing that the public distrusted new or different
sounds and that sales might suffer if the click remained, Household
Products had appealed to the NVH lab to nix the click but not the clock.
Automobiles, however, produced the bulk of the laboratory's problems.
A recent one stemmed from revised styling of an established model car.
The new body produced a drum sound while in motion; tests showed that
the sound resulted from a windshield which had been reshaped. After
weeks of hit-and-miss experimentation, NVH engineers eliminated the drum
noise by introducing a crinkle in the car's metal floor. No one, includ
i
ng the engineers, knew exactly why the crinkle stopped the windshield
drumming; the important thing was-it did.
The present stage of Orion testing in the lab had been set up on the
dynamometer. Hence the car could be operated at any speed, either manually or by remote control, for hours, days, or weeks continuously, yet
never move from its original position on the machine's rollers.
The Orion which they had looked at from beneath was ready to go.
Stepping over the steel fl
oor plates of the dynamometer, Adam Trenton and
Ian Jameson climbed inside, Adam at the wheel.
Brett DeLosanto was no longer with them. Having satisfied himself that
the proposed add-ons would not affect the car's outward appearance,
Brett had returned outside to review a minor change made recently in the
Orion grille. Designers liked to see results of their work out of
doors-"on the grass," as they put it. Sometimes, in open surroundings
and natural light, a design had unexpected visual effects, compared with its appearance in a studio.
When the Orion, for example, was first viewed in direct sunlight the front
grille had unexpectedly appeared black instead of bright silver, as it
should. A change of angle in the grille had been necessary to correct it.
A girl technician in a white coat came out from a glass-lined control
booth alongside the car. She inquired, "Is there any special kind of
road you'd like, Mr. Trenton
.”

"Give him a bumpy ride," the engineer said. "Let's take one from
California
.”

"Yes, sir
.”

The girl returned to the booth, then leaned out through the
doorway, holding a magnetic tape reel in her hand. "This is State Route
17, between Oakland and San Jose
.”

Going back into the booth, she
pressed the reel onto a console and passed the tape end through a
take-up spool.
Adam turned the ignition key. The Orion's engine sprang to life.
The tape now turning inside the glass booth would, Adam knew, transfer
the real road surface, electronically, to the dynamometer rollers
beneath the car. The tape was one of many in the lab's library, and all
had been made by sensitive recording vehicles driven over routes in
North America and Europe. Thus, actual road conditions, good and bad,
could be reproduced instantly for test and study.
He put the Orion in drive and accelerated.
Speed rose quickly to 50 mph. The Orion's wheels and the dynamometer
rollers were racing, the car itself standing still. At the same time,
Adam felt an insistent pounding from below.
"Too many people think California freeways are great," Ian Jameson
observed. "It surprises them when we demonstrate how bad they can be
.”

The speedometer showed 65.
Adam nodded. Auto engineers, he knew, were critical of California road
building because the state roads-due to the absence of frost-were not made
deep. The lack of depth allowed concrete slabs to become depressed at the
center and curled and broken at the edges-a result of pounding by heavy
trucks. Thus, when a car came to the end of a slab, in effect it fell off
and bounced onto the next. The process caused continuous bumps and
vibrations which cars had to be engineered to absorb.
The Orion's speed nudged 80. Jameson said, "Here's where it happens
.”

As he spoke, a hum and vibration-additional. to the roughness of the
California freeway-extended through the car. But the effect was slight,
the hum low-pitched, vibration minor. The NVH would no longer be startling
to a car's occupants, as it had been on the test track earlier.
Adam queried, "And that's all of it
.”

"That's all that's left," Ian Jameson assured him. "The braces take the
rest out. As I said, we consider what remains to be at an acceptable
level
.”

Adam allowed speed to drop off, and the engineer added, "Let's try
it on a smooth road
.”

With another tape on the control console-a portion of Interstate 80 in
Illinois-the road unevenness disappeared while the hum and vibration
seemed correspondingly lower.
'We'll try one more road," Jameson said, "a really tough one
.”

He signaled
to the lab assistant in the booth, who smiled.
As Adam accelerated, even at 60 mph the Orion jolted alarmingly. Jameson
announced, "This is Mississippi-U.S. 90, near Biloxi. The road wasn't good
to start with, then Hurricane Camille loused it up completely. The portion
we're on now still hasn't been fixed. Naturally, no one
15 would do this speed there unless they had suicide in mind
.”

At 80 mph the road, transmitted through the dynamometer, was so bad
that the car's own vibration was undetectable. Ian Jameson looked
pleased.
As speed came off, he commented, 'Teople don't realize how good our
engineering has to be to cope with all kinds of roads, including plenty
of others like that
.”

Jameson was off again, Adam thought, in his abstract engineer's world.
Of more practical importance was the fact that the Orion's NVH problem
could be solved. Adam had already decided that the add-on route,
despite its appalling cost, was the one they would have to travel,
rather than delay the Orion's debut. Of course, the company's executive
vice-president, Hub Hewitson, who regarded the Orion as his own special
baby, would go through the ceiling when he heard about the five dollars
added cost. But he would learn to live with it, as Adam h ad
almost
already.
He got out of the car, Ian Jameson following. On the engineer's
instructions, Adam left the motor running. Now, the girl in the booth
took over, operating the Orion by remote control. At 80 on the
dynamometer, the vibration was no more serious outside than it had been
within.
Adam asked Jameson, "You're sure the bracing will stand up to long
use
.”

"No question about it. We've put it through every test. We're
satisfied
.”

So was Jameson, Adam thought; too damn satisfied. The engineer's
detachment-it seemed like complacency
still irritated him. "Doesn't it
ever bother you," Adam asked, "that everything you people do here is
negative? You don't produce anything. You only take things out,
eliminate
.”

11
"Oh, we produce something
.”

Jameson pointed to the dynamometer rollers,
still turning swiftly, impelled by the Orion's wheels. "See those? They're
connected to a generator; so are the other dynamometers in the lab. Every
time we operate a car, the rollers generate electricity. We're coupled in
to Detroit Edison, and we sell the power to them
.”

He looked challengingly
at Adam. "Sometimes I think it's as useful as a few things which have come
out of Product Planning
.”

Adam smiled, conceding. "But not the Orion
.”

"No," Jameson said. I guess we all have hopes for that
.”

Chapter
E
ight

The nightgown which Erica Trenton finally bought was in Laidlaw-Beldon's
on Somerset Mall in Troy. Earlier, she had browsed through stores in
Birmingham without seeing anything that appealed to her as sufficiently
special for the purpose she had in mind, so she continued to cruise the
district in her sports convertible, not really minding because it was
pleasant, for a change, to have something special to do.
Somerset Mall was a large, modern plaza, east on Big Beaver Road, with
quality stores, drawing much of their patronage from well-to-do auto
industry families living in Birmingham and Bloomfield Hills. Erica had
shopped there often and knew her way around most of the stores,
including Laidlaw-Beldon's.
She realized, the instant she saw it, that the nightgown was exactly
right. It was a sheer nylon with matching peignoir, in pale,
beige,
al
m
ost
the color of her hair. The total effect, she knew, would be to
project an image of honey blondeness. A frosted orange lipstick, she
decided, would round out the sensual impression she intended to create,
tonight, for Adam.
Erica had no charge account at the store, and paid by check. Afterward
she went to Cosmetics to buy a lipstick since she was uncertain if she
had one at home, quite the right shade.
Cosmetics was busy. While waiting, glancing over a display of lipstick
colors, Erica became aware of another shopper at the perfume counter
close by. It was a woman in her sixties who was informing a salesclerk,
"I want it for my daughter
-
in-law. I'm really not sure . . . Let me try
the Norell
.”

I I
Using a sample vial, the clerk-a bored brunette-obliged.
"Yes," the woman said. "Yes, that's nice. I'll take that. An ounce
size
.”

From a mirror-faced store shelf behind her, out of reach of customers,
the clerk selected a white, black-lettered box and placed it on the
counter. "That's fifty dollars, plus sales tax. Will it be cash or
charge
.”

The older woman hesitated. "Oh, I hadn't realized it would be that
much
.”