The Need for O2

Most family vacations when I was a kid took us to the Trout streams of Colorado. My dad was born in Pueblo and at the time still had a relative there who knew where the beaver ponds were, the ones that held the best Brook Trout ever roasted over a fire.

Those are fond memories for sure. However, a less sentimental memory of those trips still sticks with me to this day. I seem to be reminded of it about this time each year, and equally so in the fall. The odd thing I remember all these years was of a section of the two-lane highway 36 (no interstate highway then) as it crossed the state of Missouri.

You see, back then there was a popular shaving cream called Berma Shave which used as its advertising ploy humorous but meaningful rhymes posted along highways, two or three words per sign at a time. The one I still remember, especially at this time of year read: “Spring Has Sprung. The Grass Has Riz. Where Last Year’s, Careless Drivers Is. Berma Shave.” I think Berma Shave was out of business by the time I could shave, but if I ever see a can on a store shelf, I’m buying it.

A few days ago, I found myself following a pickup truck slowly and carefully pulling a couple of anhydrous ammonia tank wagons down a county road. I was in no hurry so I didn’t mind the slow speed. But the experience reminded me of the season we were in, the need for understanding, and that old Berma Shave rhyme.

In Indiana and throughout the Midwest, agricultural activity rises to a crescendo during the seasons at both ends of summer and winter. Of course, during times of increased activity, farm equipment will be on the road and private and commercial traffic will have to deal with large, slower-moving obstacles on their way to work, appointments, or their way home. Of course, the golden rule during these times is to, “pack your patience”. I have written an article or two encouraging such behavior on the road.

However, this is not another “caution on the road” article. While following those two anhydrous tank wagons, I decided that a “STOP AND TURN AROUND” message just might save someone some heart ache. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, there are hundreds of anhydrous ammonia injuries in the U.S. annually.

OSHA data indicates 337 fatalities from acute inhalation of ammonia related incidences were recorded from 2011 to 2022.

Anhydrous ammonia in most corn producing situations is the economic choice for a nitrogen fertilizer source. It is a liquid that must be stored and transported under pressure until it can be knifed into the ground leaving a usable nitrogen source for the crop. However, it has its drawbacks, one of which is that when exposed to air, such as when a transfer hose breaks, or a valve decides to leak. Its then vaporous form will create a cloud that is damaging if inhaled. An ammonia cloud can damage lungs, burn the skin, and greatly take the place of breathable air. Fertilizer suppliers and producers will use extra caution when handling anhydrous ammonia because even under the best circumstances, equipment may fail causing what could be a dangerous situation. If such an event should occur close to a road, motorists need to be aware of the danger as well.

A few years ago, when I was teaching science to sixth graders at Hope Elementary, I would often diverge from lesson plans and the prescribed preparation for standardized tests. I knew that in four short years, the young people in front of me would probably be licensed drivers. During a lesson on the properties of matter, and a discussion using the example of anhydrous ammonia, I would pose to students a situation. I would ask, “Someday when you are drivers, and you see a strange and very large white cloud drifting low across your path from some nearby farm equipment, how would you react?”

Most students would say that they would hold their breath and keep driving. To that I would say, “But what about your vehicle? Doesn’t it need air, specifically oxygen to keep the engine running?” Thinking eyes would stare back at me. Few twelve-year-old kids knew or ever thought about engines needing oxygen to operate. At this point, I would hold up a peal-and-stick cut out of a longhorn cow’s head, my personal and highly sought after class trophy, for a good answer. It was something with which students proudly adorned their notebooks, when “good thinking” was exhibited. Finally, one aggressive boy would usually pipe up with something like, “I would floor it to get through it.”

“But what if your engine died in the middle of the cloud?” I would ask. “The faster you go, the more oxygen is need by the motor. Plus, ammonia is highly corrosive and could permanently damage fuel and intake parts.” More thoughtful silence would come over the class, until a cautious student, usually a girl would say, “I would turn around and go another way.” Then I would ceremoniously present the winning student with the coveted cow sticker.

Caution and patience are always good partners to have along anytime, but more so on Indiana’s spring and fall county roads. And it is true that in the spring, when anhydrous ammonia is being transported and applied, major leak events are infrequent. However, when they do happen and drifting vapor crosses a road, the wise driver will avoid the cloud. Here’s your cow sticker.