Here's one answer to W's constant state of MUST DRILL in pristine areas and keep the US dependent on the Middle East....after all...that's money in the bank for his buddies.....After all....he's so unsure and scared of photographs of the "barren wasteland" he wants to drill in....he buries the photos in the basement of the Smithsonian.....pictures ARE worth a 1000 words.....there is so much life and beauty there in the ANWAR he just just wants it to look like Texas
Fill 'er Up -- From the Dumpster Behind the
Restaurant
Biodiesel, made from plant oil or animal fat, is fueling vehicles and an environmental crusade.
By John M. Glionna and Eric Bailey, Times Staff Writers
SAN FRANCISCO — When Elie Rothchild's 1984 diesel Volkswagen is
running on empty, he skips the corner gas station and heads straight for his
favorite greasy spoon.
Donning a pair of surgical gloves, he pumps a few gallons of congealed
vegetable lard out of the kitchen fryers. With a bit of chemical hocus-pocus
back in his garage, he creates a newfangled fuel.
Rothchild motors on the front lines of the biodiesel crusade, a brew-your-own
fuel movement that advocates say can, in a small but politically correct way,
help slake America's thirst for Middle East crude.
The biodiesel brigade has some advice for drivers of those gas-guzzling SUVs
they brand unwitting supporters of terrorist regimes: Wake up and smell the
french fry grease. Because if oil means war, their thinking goes, then biodiesel
means peace.
Experts disagree over biodiesel's role in the nation's energy future. While some
say home-brew purists are visionaries, others dismiss them as fringe-dwelling
dreamers. Daniel Becker, the Sierra Club's global warming and energy
director, advocates boosting fuel economy rather than turning to alternatives
like biodiesel: "I don't think it's a solution for the whole of America."
Fewer than 1% of all cars in the U.S. run on diesel fuel. Still, a few true believers hope for a
groundswell of consumers quitting their petroleum habit and embracing biodiesel — even if it means
brewing made-in-America fuel one gallon at a time. Biodiesel production in the U.S. is already way up,
with commercial sales jumping from 500,000 gallons in 1999 to 15 million last year.
Biodiesel can be concocted from just about any plant oil and animal fat — from soybeans to mustard
seeds and industrial kitchen grease.
"It's so incredibly easy to make this stuff, it's frightening," says Rothchild, who runs an upstart biodiesel
fuel company. "On top of that, it's the right thing to do."
Scattered programs nationwide run garbage trucks and bus fleets on fuels such as B20, a 20% mixture
of biodiesel and conventional diesel. But for the true believers, the only grade that packs a political
punch is B100; that's 100% biodiesel.
The renewable fuel emits roughly half the "greenhouse" pollutants of regular diesel and is 94% less likely
to cause cancer, according to the U.S. Department of Energy's National Renewable Energy
Laboratory. Rothchild boasts that it's as biodegradable as table sugar.
These days, biodiesel veers toward the chic. Actor Woody Harrelson drives on the fuel, and Julia
Butterfly Hill, the celebrated tree sitter of California's north coast, is a promoter. The folk duo Indigo
Girls are using biodiesel to fuel their current national tour. In Maui, there's a biodiesel rental car for
tourists who want to make a statement.
Melissa Crabtree, a 34-year-old folk singer and river guide, was about to head out on a national tour
when she made the switch. Crabtree joined some friends to buy a 1984 Ford Econoline van in Reno,
converting the old rig's engine to run on vegetable oil. (Though biodiesel works splendidly in a standard
diesel engine, advocates say, pure vegetable oil requires engine modifications.)
The Veggie Van was born.
For the next few months, Crabtree buzzed around America, the van's tank topped each evening with
cooking oils scrounged from fast-food joints and lunch-counter diners at each stop. Filtering the swill
before siphoning it into the van, Crabtree recalled being "covered in vegetable oil most of the time."
She turned to petroleum only once, after a french fry wedged in her fuel line. Mostly, the Veggie Van
ran like a dream. At each gig, Crabtree talked it up, prodding audiences to kick their foreign oil
addiction and belting out a song she wrote about the van.
Back in Berkeley recently, Crabtree met with other biodiesel advocates to demonstrate the ease of
brewing your own.
First came acquisition of the raw ingredients. Maria Alovert, an East Bay free spirit whose dark hair is
dyed with streaks of red and yellow, hefted a one-gallon plastic milk jug to scoop gobs of grease from
a trash bin in back of Spenger's Fish Grotto near the briny east shore of San Francisco Bay.
Alovert, who teaches courses on concocting biodiesel, brews her fuel in a greasy 30-gallon drum. The
process is relatively simple, though a bit of caution and a good biodiesel cookbook are advised. Fryer
oils and grease get dumped into the vat and warmed with an electrical coil from an old hot water
heater. Next, a mix of methanol and lye are added. The broth is stirred, then left to sit overnight.
Glycerin produced by the process is drained off for use as soap. What's left is ready for the tank.
*
How About $1 a Gallon?
Typically, 1 1/2 gallons of restaurant grease yield about a gallon of biofuel. Advocates say the home
brew costs up to a dollar per gallon to make. Mass-marketed biodiesel runs quite a bit higher — about
50 cents a gallon more than regular diesel fuel.
"If you make your own, it's extremely cheap," Alovert said.
Activists crowd the spotlight, but there's a buttoned-down industry behind them.
So far, about 20 companies have popped up nationwide. The industry has its own trade association,
the National Biodiesel Board, funded largely by soybean farmers who stand to gain if biodiesel booms.
That Midwest agricultural connection has helped gain Washington's ear: Congress is considering new
tax subsidies for the fuel.
Biodiesel executives certainly don't disagree with activists about the fuel's benefits to the environment
and energy independence. But some wince over the counterculture embrace, worrying that their
budding industry won't be taken seriously.
The industry has already carved a mainstream niche, supplying about 300 government fleets, harbors
and even a smattering of military vehicles. In Bakersfield, what activists are heralding as the nation's
largest biodiesel plant is also in the works. Garbage trucks in San Jose and Berkeley run on it.
Dave Williamson, recycling manager at Berkeley's Ecology Center, said his beefy rigs perform well on
100% biodiesel. Though studies have shown that the alternative fuel produces about 12% less energy
than traditional diesel, Williamson said he's seen virtually no loss of power as the trucks climb the city's
steep eastern hills.
Biodiesel advocates also boast about its superior lubricity, saying the fuel cuts down on engine wear
and maintenance. (One consumer warning: The rubber hoses on some autos and pickups built before
1993 can be eroded by the fuel.)
Scientists call biodiesel an alternative for those who see their cars as a reflection of their political and
environmental ethic. Said David Friedman, a senior analyst for the Union of Concerned Scientists:
"People are frustrated because they can't walk into a showroom and say, 'Give me a vehicle that can
reduce our oil dependence.' In today's car buying market, the only choice is color and what kind of
cup-holders there are."
*
Those Who Doubt
Others say biodiesel is destined to stay a small fry.
Daniel Sperling, director of the Institute of Transportation Studies at UC Davis, says biodiesel will
probably remain a boutique industry, undercut by its relatively high production cost.
"I've been there, done that," said Sperling, who fermented ethanol out of cannery wastes as a graduate
student. "I sympathize with their idealistic notions."
Rothchild has bought the biodiesel concept pump, hose and nozzle. He recently saw a biodiesel
demonstration and went right out and bought a diesel-powered vehicle. He converted it to run on pure
vegetable oil as well as biodiesel fuel. Now, in a petrol pinch, he can hit an area supermarket for a
plastic bottle of cooking oil to funnel right into his tank.
"When Dr. Rudolph Diesel invented the diesel engine, it ran on peanut oil, not the other stuff," he says.
Kenneth Kron, a biodiesel entrepreneur who makes about 50 gallons a week for a dozen customers,
sees gold in restaurant grease. "In the future, they're going to call us lazy over the way we plundered the
land for oil," Kron says.
*
'Not a Believer'
Rothchild is walking down a busy sidewalk with his grease pump in hand. His eyes widen as he
approaches a Mexican restaurant. Many ethnic eateries use animal lard, which he says is thicker and
packs more wallop.
He walks right into the kitchen. The cook smiles and waves him into a back alley, where Rothchild
spies two barrels left out in the rain. He lifts the top on one and takes a long, languid whiff, like a wine
aficionado. He fires up the pump.
Inside the restaurant, manager Otto Laksmono can only shake his head at the idea that his kitchen glop
would one day power a few of America's vast armada of automobiles.
"I'm not a believer," he says, whispering like a conspirator. "The fad won't last. But for now, I'm getting
my grease hauled away." |
