Don't We Wish

By Edward Wright

Don't We Wish:
we could travel on the interstate at really high speed...
safely, comfortably,stress-free...
with no worries about a speeding ticket...
and at less cost...
Find out how this can happen in this excellent new novel by Gullah and Wright.
Don't We Wish!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Wright
• Release date: Sep 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301699148

Edward Wright

Wright has succeeded in four different careers: Air Force officer, engineering systems analysis, consulting and writing. He has studied at Rutgers , USAF Institute of Technology, Cornell , Connecticut U. and holds a masters degree in Aeronautical Engineering from Princeton. Also he has taught at Boise State and Cornell.He is a recognized expert in the field of transportation and has written numerous books and treatises in that area, His travels include Okinawa, Japan, China, New Zealand, Australia, England, Scotland, Wales, France, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Kenya, Seychelles, Madagascar, South Africa, the Caribbean, Canada, Mexico and 48 US states.

Book preview

Don't We Wish

A Novel by

Dr. Jeremiah Gullah

and

Edward Stewart Wright

Copyright 2013 by Edward Stewart Wright

All rights reserved.

E-Book by e-book-design.com

Smashwords Edition

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I was on Interstate 80 ... whizzing along at 250 mph ... and my Porsche was with me all the way!

My trip’s time from Chicago to Denver would be five hours ... saving me 16 boring hours of driving punctuated by moments of sheer terror..and an 8 hour motel overnight ... but I wasn’t in my Porsch ... I was in a bar, nursing a martini ... two olives and a twist ...

Jeremiah Gullah

"Railways will become the Great Highway

For the King and all his subjects."

The great pioneering English railroad engineer

George Stephenson, 1828.

Part I

The Beginning: 2012

Chapter 1

A Secret Meeting

The flight left Denver International Airport (DIA) at 8:30 a.m. It had been in the air for about two hours ... bumpy uncomfortable hours ... when it started to descend for its landing. It was an Embraer regional jet being flown under the United Airlines banner by a small operator that Gullah didn’t know the name of and didn’t really care. But he knew the plane well ... built in Brazil, Rolls Royce fan-jets, could carry fifty passengers, but there only about a dozen passengers on board. They weren’t making much money on this flight and Gullah knew why ... they would need another two-dozen to just break even.

After all, he was the transportation expert, wasn’t he? Most people would have driven the 600 miles. Would have taken about ten hours. But the call had come at around nine last night and the Congressman demanded he there by ten in the morning. And remember, the man had said, this is not happening ... you and I are not meeting, got it?

Gullah had checked the weather first ... didn’t like it. Could have flown his own plane. Decided ‘no-go’. So he checked airline schedules ... there were only two flights out in the morning, the one he was on and a Frontier flight that didn’t leave until ten. Not much choice there.

Both the flight and the landing were a little rough but finally they arrived. Gullah grabbed his briefcase, left the plane and followed directions to the cabstand.

The driver was an African ... probably an immigrant, Gullah guessed. And the driver griped all the way to the La Quinta motel Waited two hours for a customer ... got a lousy fifteen minute drive. Etc., etc., etc.,

Gullah gave the cabbie a handsome tip. It wasn’t his money. Both the $350 airfare and any incidentals would be reimbursed, the congressman had said, and Gullah believed him.

The desk clerk gave him a pleasant welcome. Gullah said, Mr. Johnson’s room please ... he’s expecting me.

110 sir, to the right.

Gullah rapped lightly on the door. It was opened, and the congressman ushered him in, held out a large, grizzled hand, pumped his.

Jerry! He exclaimed. What a pleasure to see you again. It’s been longer than a bull’s pecker! He had a pleasant attitude but definitely a commanding one. Glacial blue eyes that gazed directly into Gullah’s, a baldpate, long prominent nose, and a western shirt.

Hey Buck ... .glad you could see me ... .but what is this ‘Johnson’ stuff?

It’s politics, Jeremiah, ... doesn’t always pay to let folks know where you are. Buck Clayton was the representative from Oklahoma’s third congressional district. And the Chairman of the House Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure. But that needn’t concern you. I want to hear about that plan you’ve been e-mailing me about. Let’s see if it has legs.

Sure, Buck, I’ve got it on my computer. All this work represents the efforts of myself and six of my graduate students over the last two years. I’m sure you’ll be interested.

Gullah spent about 30 minutes showing a 32-slide PowerPoint summary of the project that he called ‘FIST’. Clayton filled the next hour with a barrage of questions, all of which Gullah answered in detail with the help of a batch of back-up slides.

I need copies of this stuff, Jerry.

Got them right here, Buck. And he pulled a summary 36-page document from his briefcase. Handed it to Clayton.

Now your suggestion is that we build a research and test facility as the first step, correct?

That’s right Buck. While this whole concept is based on existing, proven technology, there is still a lot we don’t know ... a lot that has to be developed and demonstrated in our own backyard. Gullah was intense, excited. Clayton’s reaction so far seemed to be positive ... all he could ask for.

The Representative quickly flipped through the handout. This is good stuff! I’m glad you contacted me. There is just one change.

What’s that, Buck?

That test center ... .it ain’t going to be built in Pueblo.

Gullah was startled, tried to argue. But the Transportation Test Center is already there in Pueblo, Colorado ... .and the new facilities can be built easily ... there is plenty of vacant land and ... Clayton interrupted him.

I told you it ain’t going to be there. It’s going to be in Boise City right here in the wonderful state of Oklahoma!

Chapter 2

Back Home

Professor Jeremiah Gullah said goodbye to the representative and cabbed back to the airport. He was glowing! The meeting went even better than he had hoped. ‘You deserve a drink’, he thought to himself, headed for the airport bar and reviewed the happy event over a Sapphire gin martini complete with lemon peel and three plump olives.

‘But,’ ‘he mused, ‘where is Boise City? If we were going to do this thing, why not at the TTC in Pueblo, Colorado? That’s where it made sense what with the facilities and staff already on site.’

He finished the martini ... yes it was good ... and moseyed over to the nearby newsstand. Picked up a road atlas. And there it was. In Oklahoma, yes, but way at the western end of the state’s panhandle.

And look! It was located at the confluence of Oklahoma with four other states ... Texas, Colorado, Kansas and New Mexico. Less than ten miles from each of those. Clayton was shrewd all right. In addition to congressional support from his own state, he would then be able to enlist support from four others!

And Clayton was an expert in cashing in political chips. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, he said to Gullah more than once.

But why had Clayton sworn him to secrecy? You keep your mouth shut tight over this location choice. I will announce it when I am ready. Got it?

* * *

On the flight home, he ordered another martini. Of course it wasn’t as good ... those packaged drinks in those little bottles never are. Too much vermouth. But who’s counting?

He leaned back ... at least as far back as those cramped airplane seats allowed ... and reflected on his apparent success. It had been only four years ago when it all started.

He was then a tenured professor at the University of Colorado’s Denver campus. Professor of Applied Engineering was the actual title. One day Gullah was called into the Dean’s office.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries. Then the Dean hit him with the hammer.

I am truly sorry, Gullah, he gazed absently into the space at his left, but your proposal isn’t going to fly. We have been advised that our resources are to be directed more towards cooperation with the university’s new Anchutz Medical Center.

My gaze fixed on the hairs growing from his nose. He should clip them, I thought. Funny how the mind reacts when hearing bad news.

He was droning on about the possibilities of cooperation in the bio-engineering field, etc., etc, etc,.

Gullah dialed him out. Said his goodbyes. Walked despondently to his office.

What now?

* * *

Soon after, he had taken a day off and attended a conference sponsored by the High Speed Rail Society at a convention center in downtown Denver. Met several old colleagues and surprisingly was offered not just one but two financially attractive job offers. Back home, he discussed the opportunity with his wife, Babs.

Well this certainly interesting, she said, but why not talk with the CEO’s of both of those organizations ... see if they will sponsor you and your proposal. Wouldn’t that be better than working for one of them?

And so he did ... . and they did. And that is why he is now the Founder and Senior Professor of the American Graduate Institute of Advanced Transportation (AGIAT) right in Denver ... .a cooperative venture of Colorado State University and several industrial sponsors!

Chapter 3

The Opportunity (by Gullah)

By 2009, the year I founded AGIAT, it was quite obvious that the United States was mired in an overcrowded and overwhelmed transportation system conceived and executed in the previous century. At least it was obvious to me. Back in the mid-nineteen-fifties the country’s interests and funding had turned towards highways and airways as the mainstays of its transportation infrastructure. Huge subsidies were provided for the construction of the Interstate Highway system, new airports and airways. Subsidies strongly supported by the automobile, aviation, petroleum and construction industries poured into this system.

But sixty years later, the nation was being strangled by the consequent congestion, inefficiency, air pollution and petroleum-dependence of that infrastructure. Travel was an expensive nightmare for most of the public ... except for those fortunate enough to have access to private planes, helicopters and limousines.

Just as the country was transformed starting sixty years ago, it was now time to build a new transportation infrastructure ... one for the 21st Century.

As Babs had suggested, I contacted executives of several foreign companies that I knew had the technologies essential for the USA to adopt. (Unfortunately, an almost total lack of foresight had completely shut off the funding of the necessary research and development here for decades.) Would they be interested in supporting AGIAT?

Not surprisingly they would. In fact their tongues were almost hanging out ... after all, the US represented their greatest opportunity in the world! And their ‘cost of entry’ into this huge market via AGIAT was miniscule. We would need only a few millions each year to support our very small student body and faculty. An investment that would position those corporations into a market potentially worth over a trillion dollars.

Armed with this financial support, I approached Colorado State University. CSU was founded as the state’s ‘land grant’ institution and is a natural rival to my former employer, the University of Colorado. Yes! Its active and innovative president, its College of Engineering and its Civil and Environmental Engineering Departments were very interested! I even convinced them to place our AGIAT offices in Denver some 60 miles from the main campus in Fort Collins.

I chose a location in a downtown office building. I believed that an important part of our education was to teach students in a business-like atmosphere and have them address real-life problems in a business-like way. No campus for us ... no football team ... no lecture halls. Learn by doing.

Our mission statement said it all. ‘ Conceive a Practical Advanced Transportation System for the United States of America’ ... PATS/USA!

Chapter 4

To Boise City (by Gullah)

Did I mention earlier that I am the proud owner of a private airplane? Probably not because the weather forecasts for flying on my Oklahoma City date with the transportation sub-committee’s leader simply weren’t good enough for me.

Cautious ... that’s my first name! I flew an F-86 fighter in the Air National Guard. All through our training, we were told the old adage ... there are bold pilots and there are old pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots. But I loved the speed and beauty of the F-86 ... a far cry from the slowness and ugliness (to my eyes) of most of the general aviation aircraft that I could afford to buy.

And then there are the Mooney’s! These babies cruise at 200 mph or better, and are sleek looking. When the parent company, based in Kerrville, TX, went bankrupt a few years ago, I had the opportunity to buy a good, used Mooney for just under $100,000. Where did a college prof get that kind of cash? Dear, deceased Aunty Elise who left the proceeds from the oil well on uncle Otis’s Oklahoma farm to her three nephews, one of them being me.

I rose early, about 6 am, made some coffee, did some preflight planning while I ate a bagel and then went down the elevator to the garage where my sleek Mercedes convertible dwelled ... again bless my dear Aunty. One of my graduate students, Roger Rahm, was waiting for me. We arrived at Centennial airport a little after seven.

‘Sweet Baby’, as I had named my Mooney 230, was there waiting for me. We rolled her out, did a little inspection, checked the gas tanks for condensation (there was none) climbed aboard and I started its Continental six cylinder engine. It sounded fine. I let it warm up for a good five minutes, then we headed for the runway.

Full throttle, release the brakes, down the runway she roared, pull back on the stick and up we went. I had filed a visual flight plan and we set a southward course towards Pueblo, about 90 miles away.

A half an hour later we were over Pueblo’s Transportation Test Center just to the west of that city. We circled it a couple of times at a height of about half a mile, as I pointed out its features to Rahm. Then we headed southeast ... another 40 minutes and we were over Boise City. Again we circled the vicinity ... land that was mostly flat and either dry prairie or irrigated crops.

We landed on its single runway and taxied to the gas pumps. I was a bit surprised to see the number of planes parked on the field. I had believed the field hosted only a few landings and takeoffs every hour but there were far too many aircraft there for that level of activity.

As the attendant fueled our Mooney, I asked about a rental car. You must be joking! There ain’t no rentals here mister.

Well, how do we get into town?

You can walk it ... it’s only three miles ... take an hour or so.

Come on! There must be some way ... .

Of course I can get Jimmy to drive you there if you’ve got some bucks.

How much bucks?

Fifty. After you give me a twenty.

We don’t have much choice do we?

You sure don’t mister ... now pay up and pull over there on the grass ... there’s another plane behind you.

Rahm and I sat in the front seat of Jimmy’s Ford pickup. After I had coughed up seventy bucks of course. It was a five-minute drive into town and Jimmy dumped us at the Ford dealer, in the town square across from the county courthouse. While I bargained with the dealer over renting one of his used vehicles, I noticed a line of a couple of dozen people waiting entry into the red brick county courthouse.

What’s going on? I said The airfield is crowded, folks are lined up at the courthouse and now you want a hundred bucks for a used Focus for three or four hours?"

Take it or leave it, Bubba, there’ll be another bunch of guys at the airport waiting for it if you don’t want it.

* * *

Rosie Gonzales was annoyed. She was railing at her boss.

I need more help! I can’t handle all this. Look at the line in here and there’s more outside.

I know Rosie. Sonny, the Cimarron County Clerk was fat, sweating heavily. I’ve already hired another registration clerk to help you. But we’re still swamped.

Then you yourself need to pitch in. We’ve gone from registering three or four deeds and easements a month to that many an hour! This is ridiculous!

I’ll get some temporary help from Guyman. I’ll see if that county next door can help us.

Fat chance ... they are almost as busy as we are. Sure wish we knew what was going on.

Latest rumor I heard was gas ... natural gas ... they gonna frack it, whatever that is.

"Yeah, well I’m gonna be fracked if you don’t get me more help!

* * *

We put about 70 miles that day on that wreck of a car. And what we saw was eye opening. We toured the ‘city’ ... about 30 minutes covered it all in a town of about 1600 residents. Once we left its confines, going north, south, east and west, the ‘action’ was nothing less than amazing. There seemed to be teams of surveyors on every mile of every road. When we stopped and asked them what they were surveying for, we got only sullen stares. But when we spotted someone who appeared to be a local, or stopped at a gas station, and asked the same questions, the answers varied from a natural gas strike, to an oil play, or even a spaceport (for visitors from Mars?)

Everyone was well aware of the ‘boom’ and many thought they knew the answer but there was no certainty, at least in my opinion. Actually, the gas/oil scenario seemed the most likely to me. One that would mirror the excitement in North Dakota over the ‘discovery’ that fracking could create a major oil boom in the area underlain by the existing Baaken shale formation.

But how would that apparent boom in and around Boise City affect Buck Clayton’s decision to plant our research, development and test facility there? Not good, I imagined, the limited facilities there were already stretched to the limit!

I decided I’d better contact Clayton