We had a lot of pyridine around the place, and for some unknown reason, a
tank of liquified trimethylamine. Plus of course, unlimited nitric acid, so
things went fast.
They named the pyridine nitrate/acid mix "Penelope" and tried to fire it.
Normal ignition methods did not work, so Bert Abramson, who was in charge of
the test work, then took an acetylene torch and heated the motor red hot,
and opened the prop valve. This time he got ignition, and some half hearted
operation for a few seconds.
Inspired to further effort, he crammed about a yard of lithium wire into the
chamber, and pushed the button. Penelope sprayed into the chamber, collected
in a puddle in the bottom, and ***then*** reacted with the wire.
The nozzle couldn't cope with all the gas produced, the chamber pressure rose
exponentially, and the reaction changed to a high order detonation which demolished
the motor, propogated through the fuel line to the propellant tank, detonated the
propellant ***there*** (fortunately there were only a few pounds in the tank)
and wrecked just about everything in the test cell. Penelope should have
been named Xantippe. She also scared everybody to death - particularly
Abramson.
That's my Dad. That's the sort of solution he brought to just about every problem in my childhood.