Discoveries in the Physics & Astronomy shop | Science, curiosities, and surprises
Welcome to Olin Science 181, the Physics & Astronomy department’s machine shop. As the department’s support team, we regularly discover, design, and build all sorts of curiosities. This blog is just a small sample of the fascinating things we come across every day.
They’re interesting. Sometimes strange. Sometimes oddly charming.
Always worth sharing.
These are not flashbulbs, merely incandescent A-lamps, but check out the sweet vintage ad!
So the “blue dot” thing was a quality indicator that Sylvania used in their classic flashbulbs. A magnesium filament inside an oxygen environment within the bulb produced a bright flash of light, assuming the envelope hadn’t been compromised. A dot of anhydrous cobalt (II) chloride inside that zero-moisture bulb would remain blue. If there was a leak, atmospheric moisture would react with the cobalt chloride to turn it pink, an indicator that this bulb might not work.
What’s less clear is how, exactly, one wee flashbulb is going to effectively illuminate that whale – flash photography being not super effective at distance – but whatever.
Fifty-five years ago saw the launch of the Apollo 13 lunar mission, on 11 April 1970. It didn’t go to plan, of course. Things took a bad turn, could have been worse, but who can blame them for optimism in the weeks leading up to it all? Moon science is cool!
Maps, plans, a pretty tight itinerary. It’s expensive and difficult to go to the Moon, so you don’t waste time. But don’t those hand-drawn maps just make it so inviting? Presumably the astronauts carried maps which were much more detailed and useful, if less likely to get the kid inside all of us super-excited.
Apollo 14 would reach the Fra Mauro highlands in early 1971, though Lovell, Swigert, and Haise never flew into space again.
Spring is here, and everything is coming back to life. That means our little basement visitors are back, too!
This is what happens when you burn a candle at both ends!
Make a pivot, light both ends, and the burning and dripping wax creates oscillations. In our limited experience, pretty irregular and chaotic. It’s really quite cool.
Here, our more modern sodium light sources, using a clever design that enabled a reduction from the minimum 35W to as little as 18W in 1977. Cool, yeah?
Unfortunately, Philips finally bowed out of the low pressure sodium lamp game in 2019, mean we’ve got these dinosaurs running for as long as we can scour spare lamps online. Once the supply’s gone, it’s gone.
Hey, look! Sodium metal! Highly reactive, so it’s inside with a mixture of 99% neon and 1% argon, neither of which deigns to react with, well, anything. That’s why, when it starts up, we see a purplish glow from the noble gases before tube reaches 260°C and vaporizes the sodium. After that, it’s an intense monochromatic yellow-orange that’s hard to look at.
Remember the old, aggressively-yellow street lighting that pre-dated LEDs, ceramic metal halide, and high pressure sodium? Turns out it’s very useful for physics, as the two strong emission lines near 589nm are handy for various experiments.
The lamps themselves are fairly tough, and the ballasts that operate them even more so. But, eventually, they burn out.
General Electric ceased production on these lamps back in 1972. So, no, sorry, replacements are not readily available.
It’s part two of our Math 101 algebra final!
Someone really likes to underline for emphasis. They did not want the students to miss that the quadratic formula would be essential for solving 3x2 – 5x + 7 = 0.
Of course, nothing’s as charming as the wiggly, fancily-underlined “End of Test” text. Right?
Astronomy, here and elsewhere often under the Physics umbrella, was once part of the Mathematics department at Bucknell. Occasionally, we’ll stumble across some old files in the Observatory that have been yellowing gracefully for decades. Like this two-part final exam from Math 101. Algebra!
Of note for context: this old exam – November 15th, 1948 – waited patiently in a filing cabinet at the current Observatory, built in 1963. In all likelihood, it sat in a folder in the old Observatory for thirteen years, transferred to Tustin Gym for a time, and then quietly continued to be forgotten in a new building until some tech decided to clean the place up a bit.
Who doesn’t love finding curiosities in purple ditto ink?
Lead bricks are useful things. This one – still bearing the stamp of Nuclear Associates, of Carle Place, NY – has had its fair share of scuffs and dents. (Lead’s soft stuff, you know.) These days it functions as a handy doorstop and a hands-on tool for explaining the density of matter.
Denser than water, than aluminum, than a nickel-iron meteorite. (All easy samples to acquire for demonstration.) Less dense than osmium; about half as much. (Not on hand, unfortunately.) Definitely less dense than the core of our Sun, by an order of magnitude-plus.
Also no handy samples of stellar core plasma on hand.
There are times when you want your warnings to be relatively subtle. Visible, readily noted by anyone paying attention. And then there are the ones demanding you take notice.
Do you know what’s in here? (Not specifically.) Do you think you should open and check. (Not particularly.) Are you curious? (Yes, very much so.)
When there’s an obnoxiously bright orange label warning that fingers will destroy the contents, it’s easy to recall that there are loads of other toys around here which are a wee bit less delicate.
Yo-yos also come in bright orange.