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Pacifica, where rust is a way of life
Some of the cherished memories of my childhood were trips across San
Francisco Bay on the auto ferries. I was too young to remember the ferries
replaced by the Golden Gate or San Francisco-Oakland Bay bridges, but until
the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge was completed in the mid-fifties, there were
quite a gatherings in Berkeley that required trips over the salt waters of
the Bay.
My Dad would get in line, pay the toll, and drive into position, and my
brothers and I would have 15 or 20 minutes to walk around the boat, use the
restroom, and enjoy the rare treat of a ride on salt water.
I was reminded of all this by the picture in last week's Tribune, showing
the rusty old railing along Beach Boulevard being replaced by a new
barrier. Back in the forties we already knew iron corrodes. Red orange rust
streaks on the ferry boat's restroom equipment were already familiar to
anyone who had any reason to frequent boats and places near salt water.
Perhaps salt water corrosion causes selective memory loss, because over and
over again, in my almost four decades living on the coastside, I've seen
corrosion, and other residents have been aware of corrosion, yet we're
collectively and repeatedly shocked whenever salt air corrodes iron again,
as it has done so many times before. It doesn't take long. I remember how
very few years ago the "rusty old" barrier along Beach Boulevard was bright
and shiny new.
"Coastal crud" some folks call it. My mother's 1976 Buick Skylark was
little driven, well painted and carefully garaged in Santa Rosa when I
inherited it only a few years ago. Though I live a full mile from the
ocean, the results of only six years of "coastal crud" are only too
evident.
One of the worst examples I've ever seen was a used car that had been
parked on the street just off Beach Boulevard. The owner wanted $500, which
I thought excessive for such a rust bucket. He finally sold it (to someone
else) for $100.
Sea air is healthful and refreshing, but it's full of "spindrift." As the
ocean wind blows eastward toward Pacifica, it picks up the top of the white
caps, and the salt blows in past the beaches and coats our cars, our homes,
and even the inside of local stores.
I had occasion the other day to buy a brand new pair of tin snips from
Linda Mar Hardware. The service was helpful, even extraordinary in these
days of indifferent clerks and exit lines where you're assumed to be a
shoplifter or probably in cahoots with the guy handling checkout. But when
I got the snips home and removed them from their plastic cover, I saw the
sea air had been there before me. A slight hint of rust had already
started. Do I have a complaint? I don't think so. It goes with the
territory. And even if I'd been sold shiny bright tin snips, how long would
it be before they responded to the air in my garage?
Who has the answer to salt corrosion? Certainly not the city, or the pier
and the old sewer plant wouldn't be so rust-streaked. Certainly not our
local businessmen, who've fought it for more years than I'm aware.
Certainly not our local residents, whose rusty cars, rusty nails, and
weathered metals are evidence of their defeat.
Perhaps the Chamber of Commerce can find a corrosion-fighting expert and
put on some classes telling us how to fight it. It would truly be a public
service to a community in need.
Paul@thereactor.net is one way to e mail the Reactor if
you've a mind to.
Check his website at www.thereactor.net.
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