It only takes a spark

by kevinpotter on January 18, 2009

Being jewelers we are used to working with fire and after using it for years you begin to think you are the master of the glowing orange entity. At least I did until a few days ago. Everyone has good fire stories. I hope I am not alone.

Anyway, after this event I began to recount some of my less than masterful moments while learning to tame this fiery beast. My dad was grilling steaks and he said, “Kevin, don’t touch the grill it is hot.” He failed to impress upon me how hot is hot. So the second he turned his back I touched the grill. Yep it was hot and being young I didn’t just use my finger, I stuck my hand on the grill. It looked like one of those steaks on the Sizzler commercials with the grill marks branded in.  No permanent harm, nothin’ a little cold water and some discipline wouldn’t fix.

You know how hot a tire gets when you have a blowout on the highway? I do. My dad was changing the tire and he said, “Kevin don’t touch the tire it is hot,” and he gave me the look. Well at least this time I only used my index finger not my whole hand. I only got a big blister and a “What the Hell is the matter with you? I told you it was hot!”

I was in second grade and my mom got me this orange and brown shirt and said this will look so nice on you honey. The Hell it will, I look like our shag carpeting. Anyway, I was pushed out of the house in this get up and told to go to school. That was not happening. I hid in the garage where I found some matches. You can see where this is going. That’s right. I now have the power to make my own fire. My mom left to go shopping and I just hung out in the yard. Realizing it was kinda boring with no one to play with, I decided to make a camp fire on the side of the house. I got a little blaze goin’ and was nursing it along when my dad pulled up in the driveway. I tried to put it out but the bushes caught on fire and before you know it was fully involved as they say. My dad was called by the school at work because I didn’t show up and he comes home to see me not in school and the bushes on fire.

I didn’t get in trouble. If you break new boundaries in lawlessness at a young age you get taken to a psychiatrist. These are just a few of the highlights with the best yet to come. The first time I saw molten metal I knew that was for me. I mean my two favorite things in the world – metal and fire combined. Holy cow that is awesome. That glowing orange gelatinous goo with the shimmering surface, dang that is sweet.

Have any of you ever touched it real quick like, just poked it? You know just to see what it feels like?  I have and if you have any preconceived notions about what it feels lik, let me confirm them for you – it feels hot. Real hot like flaming jello. The decision to do this was not a planned one, but I am embarrassed to say it was intentional. I was casting a few ounces of gold, yea the good old days. Anyway, let me set the scene for you. The shop was dimly lit and it was brisk out and the smell of a freshly boraxed crucible tinged with just a whiff of burnt wax from the kiln. The flask was bone white, a nice clean burnout and a large glowing button of gold just shimmering in the dim light calling to me, whispering to me, “Touch me. You know you wanna. Just do it, I won’t tell.”  With lightening speed of which I did not know I possessed I  stuck my highly callused index finger into the glowing goo. That will wake a fella up. I was immediately shocked back to reality by the smell of my own burning flesh. Smells like burnt hair because of the fingernail. Good thing I have real thick calluses or I think it would have hurt alot worse. After all these shenanigans you would think that I would have burned the house down by now. That is what my dad always says, “You are gonna burn your damn house down and you are not movin’ in with me.”

Two days ago I got to experience being on fire totally by accident, and I do mean accident. Not carelessness or stupidity. Well maybe stupidity. I was machining some stuff on the lathe and using lots of cutting oil and since I never have any shop towels handy I wipe my hands on my shirt tails. Well after machining this stuff, I went out and used my grinder. Lots of sparks were hitting me. I had ear protection and eye protection on- kinda like being in a fish bowl. Well I noticed that one side of me felt kinda warm. I stayed on task carefully grinding this radius. Dang what is so hot! I glance down, holy crap I am on fire! I try to pat it out because it is one of my favorite shirts. This is getting serious it is really raging! The first instinct I had was to stop, drop and roll but that is not what I did. The primal animal took control and I ran around yelling holy ….. I am on fire! I deduced that their was no saving my shirt at this point. With flames licking your back, you experience a sudden onset of clarity. The solution was clear – save my skin, sacrifice my shirt. So I tore it off and threw it on the ground where it became fully engulfed and no amount of stamping it out would stop it. So I just stood there and watched it consume itself.

kevinpotter

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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }

Jeff Demand January 21, 2009 at 11:46 am

No great fire stories here that I remember but an acid one I won’t forget. 4 litre glass bottle containing 1 litre of concentrated sulphuric acid and I clipped the edge of a metal sink. The bottom of the bottle fell out in one piece. I got to play with the safety shower, lost a nice pair of jeans, and used up 30 kg of sodium bicarbonate cleaning up the mess. Worst part was that the school janitor completely removed what I thought would be a permanent floor scar the next day.

Jeff

Jerry Fowler January 20, 2009 at 9:04 pm

Fire and metal, yup that’s how I got to doing metalsmithing too. Such fun except for the ocassional fire in an unwanted place on the body. Funny story. Stay cool.

shelbyvision January 20, 2009 at 5:56 pm

Great story. I can really relate to your fascination with fire. When I was small there was nothing more magical than finding a pack of matches.
In my metalworking, I have a memory that only lasts about 8 months or so, because that’s about how often I stick my thumb or hand in the flame of my oxy-acetylene torch. It only takes a small fraction of a second to produce a burn that takes a couple months to heal. The weirdest thing that happened, though, was when I was working with the torch one summer day, took a break and went for a walk for maybe an hour. When I got back, I discovered that the cloth that I had covering my boombox on the shelf above my soldering area had caught fire and had slowly smouldered away, melting the plastic case on the boombox, rendering it mostly useless. Fortunately, it never flamed up; if it had it would have been a whole lot worse.

Janine January 19, 2009 at 9:41 pm

Kevin, you are just too funny. I love reading your blogs. I’m sure all jewelers have a set myself on fire tale. Mine started with a dip in the alcohol jar. Since some of the parts fell off in the jar, I picked it up to get my parts. Without noticing the tweezers were also a flame. If I hadn’t had the darn jar under my nose when I used the flaming tweezers I would have been calm enough the just cover the darn jar. I let a small yeek out and through the flaming jar out of my hand. Of course the hand was on fire by now, as was the floor and the oxygen line to my torch. I did put out my hand first thing, and after an short moment remembered what the fire extinguisher was there for. The mess the extinguiser left was worse then the burned hand. Nothing a little aloe vera didn’t take care of. But a lesson never forgot, don’t ever hold the alcohol jar under your nose, and make sure your tweezers aren’t flaming with that pretty hard to see blue flame.

Beth Wicker January 19, 2009 at 10:56 am

Kevin – glad to meet another pyromaniac . When my daughter was 3, she brought home a boy from preschool for lunch. So they are sitting and eating lunch, and I’m cooking, and the whole thing goes up in flames about 3 or 4 feet high….and I stay calm so the kids stay calm, and are like “cool, mom – fire in the house! – neat!”. I tried everything and finally had to go outside and get dirt and fill the pan up with dirt to put out the flames. Nothing else worked. I was just glad it was an island stove top with no cabinets over it or we would have been in deep doo.

Now I confine my pyrotechnic exploits to major league bonfires. My husband hides in the house .

jen lane January 19, 2009 at 9:46 am

ha ha been there, done that, only it was my pants. ever see some one in a wheelchair try to get their pants off. takes a little longer normaly but not this time, i have tryed to recreate that move you know getting the pants off quick. but with out the motivation just can’t be done. but i did have a even better salution, canal 10 feet away. so why did i not just fall in. I swimm all the time, funny how the real simple salution is totaly lost during those times. ow by the way you do not have to feel the heat to feel the fear. thanks just love your blogs Jen

Helen Hill January 19, 2009 at 7:08 am

And are you okay after your accident? I hope you’re not badly burned!

Michael Johnson January 19, 2009 at 12:53 am

That’s hilarious!!!
I hope you didn’t singe all of your hair off. I was assisting a professor cast a huge sculpture after school. I had all of the safety gear on, space suit, steel toes, gloves, and a flimsy plastic mask. It was my first pour, it was early, and the professor was groggy. The pour went excellent. It was a crisp chilly winter morn, and still holding the 100 pound crucible between us, we kicked the ingot mold over to pour the last of the molten bronze into. The professor had a lapse of memory; one that would have told him what happens when molten metal meets ice cold ingot. I was a neophyte, but in an instant I would learn a lesson not easily ever forgotten.

I never saw the explosion, but I did get a close up of molten bronze quickly working its way through flimsy plastic. It never touched me, but I didn’t have eyebrows and I had to shave the rest of my goatee.

To this day, if I see an ingot mold, I instinctively put it on top of the kiln. I can’t stand to see a cold mold :o)

Thanks for sharing your story.

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