These old Fats Domino lyrics, written for a love song, are apropos for the groundwater industry, especially in this era of changing weather patterns and dropping water tables.
In the ’70s our sons, Bess and myself were building dune buggies as a hobby in south Georgia. We were known locally as the dune buggy builders of Adel.
Someone approached us one day and asked if we would be interested in buying an Amphicar. There were only 3,000 of these boat/cars manufactured in Germany in the ’60s, and I had always wanted one but thought the possibility was out of the question. But, here it was.
My awareness of water-related issues has gone up ten-fold since I joined The Driller in November. I think a lot about water, how we consume it, how we get it and how precarious it can be as a resource. So, I jumped at the chance to explore these issues in the field with the Institutes for Journalism & Natural Resources (IJNR).
George Hutchings was on a plane returning from water-drilling camp at Living Waters International when inspiration struck. Hutchings, whose humanitarian efforts had included facilitating medical procedures and delivering supplies to Kenya, decided on that day he could do something more.
In the late 60s, we attended the Florida Water Well Exposition in Orlando, Fla. We were living in Adel, Ga., at the time. There wasn’t much room for the four of us in our 1967 Ford F-100 single cab pickup, as it had two factory installed Mustang bucket seats. We had just purchased a microwave oven and went by the appliance store to pick it up. While there, we saw a big refrigerator cardboard box and the appliance dealer said we could have it.
I don’t know about your neck of the woods, but in mine, it’s open house season in the groundwater business. Many of the groundwater product distributors hold dealer open houses at this time of year to thank their contractor customers for their business and give them an opportunity to purchase products and supplies for the upcoming busy season.
You probably don’t give shoes a second thought. I know I usually don’t. I slip them on in the morning, walk around in them all day and shuffle them off by the door when I get home. I bet you do the same. Lace them up, stomp around the jobsite, kick off the dust and call it a day.
While on a recent drilling project, I was unfortunate enough to pick up a virus that made me sick enough that I ended up in the hospital. Fortunately, between the doctors, lab technicians and radiologists, they were able to find out exactly what it was that made me sick. These experts had the information that they needed, so that they could use the proper medications to kill it off and get me on the road to a full recovery. In the drilling industry, we work in much the same way.
What do Las Vegas and a mud school have in common? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas; what happens in a mud school can end up on the pages of The Driller. This month I thought I would take some common questions from the many different drilling disciplines we teach, and share them here.
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