Chiropractic Student Makes His Own Biofuel
By Seth LaFlamme Life University D.C. Student
In John Thornhill’s garage, a sign on the wall says, “Danger, explosive methanol.” There is no car to be seen—instead there is a rusty old fridge; a bench covered in Erlenmeyer flasks, burets, and the like; and a contraption composed of tubes and hoppers that takes up the entire right-hand wall. Two hand pumps lean against the steel doorframe, and a 55-gallon drum of methanol sits just outside in the buzzing light of the fluorescent shop lamp.
This garage, the size of a large metal shed, is John’s own personal brewhouse. What is he brewing up? Unlike some who brew beer, or others who brew a mean pot of coffee, John is brewing up biodiesel right here in his own back yard. “There are three basic ingredients- you’ve got to have the grease, methanol and lye,” says Thornhill, as he starts explaining the apparatus, which apparently came in pretty much one piece bolted to a pallet and ready to go. On the workbench is a jar of what looks like apple jelly sitting in a bath of flat beer. It turns out to be a test sample from his very first batch, “That’s how you know it’s good,” he says.
The road to making biodiesel was pitted with all kinds of stumbling blocks to the do-it-yourselfer. John nearly spent $200 on a used 55 gallon drum when it could be had less than three miles from home for 25. Then, when he found he needed a bung wrench ($150 online) to open the methanol, it became another case of having to hunt down a local source though sheer tenacity to get one for only $15. After the wild goose chase for all the accessories, the process of making the stuff was rather easy, although oil companies have started buying up the waste oil from restaurants and other suppliers, making that hard to come by, too. He remembers the first time he finished a batch and went to use it, “After all that time, and all that money, I was telling myself ‘Oh man, oh man, what are you doing? Are you really confident enough to pour that stuff you just made in your backyard into your $17,500 Jetta?’ I cannot tell you the feeling I had the first time I sat behind the wheel, cranked it up, and the car actually ran smoother.” All that legwork had finally paid off.
Of course, vegetable oil as diesel engine fuel is not a revolutionary thing, John says. Rudolf Diesel, the inventor of the diesel engine actually had intended his engine to run on vegetable oil long before petroleum came in to the picture as a means for farmers to run their equipment on extra crops grown right on their farm. Petroleum was cheaper at the time, and was eventually used as the source for the diesel engine’s main fuel, but biodiesel’s rediscovery today is really no more revolutionary than bell-bottoms coming back. The diesel engine can, in fact, run on straight vegetable oil, and was partially intended to do so ever since its invention around the turn of the 20th century.
This is not the only green project John has going. He also has a decent-sized organic garden, and plans to make his future house from earth and straw (a material called cob, which means “loaf” in old English). When asked why he seems to have chosen the hard way for so many endeavors in life, he responds, “If we’re ever going to live a full life, we have to have some kind of relationship with the earth, more than just living upon it as occupants.” He continues, “Convenience has become the foundation of our lifestyle, but at what cost?”
A common question from the chiropractic, patient is “Can you help me, how long will it take, and how much will it cost,” and that question is largely one of convenience. A pill is quicker, but people are catching on. It is inconvenient to grow one’s own food, brew one’s own fuel, and be mindful of one’s body via seeking chiropractic care and actively participating in wellness before disease strikes. John sees chiropractic as one more piece of the puzzle toward living consciously and fully, connected to the earth and others, focused on quality rather than quantity and convenience.
John is also committed to bringing this vision for life to others. He returns annually to his undergraduate school, Huntingdon College, which is near where he grew up in Montgomery, Alabama to talk about chiropractic. A steady trickle of fellow Huntingdonians has, in fact, been following John to Life ever since he got here. He is making a video about producing biodiesel, as well. Another future plan is to perhaps someday involve his community in building a second practice from the cob material so they can be connected to the building where they receive their care through hands-on craftsmanship and sweat equity.
These buildings are no primitive mud huts, by the way—a simple Internet search of ‘cob house’ will turn up some breathtakingly artistic and unique homes. Mixing the material is called “the cob dance,” and, “You end up with something that’s highly sculptural, even the windows can be customized from bottles, old windshields, or whatever shape you want to put in there, and just use a wetter form of cob to mold it into the building,” says John.
The inspiration for all this? In chiropractic, and all the other endeavors where John has chosen the road less traveled by, he credits his wife, Robin, with being his strength and his support through it all (her and Mike Rowe of the Discovery Channel’s Dirty Jobs, that is, who provided the inspiration for brewing biodiesel and building a cob house). She introduced John to chiropractic through her father, who is a chiropractor, and takes an equal interest in the legacy of the Native American heritage they share. It is from this solid foundation that their lives and convictions are able to flourish and draw strength.
“If we really understand the philosophy, and understand the benefit of what we do in chiropractic, why do we settle for the environment that we’ve created? How much more can we grow from chiropractic if we’re living in an environment that promotes chiropractic?” John asks, tying the whole package up as if the interconnectedness of it all was a foregone conclusion, and to him it is. From the recycled Laramie acoustic guitar sound hole coasters in his living room to the efforts he is making to live a slower and more ecologically sound existence, John Thornhill does the chiropractic lifestyle one better—working with the body instead of against it; caring for the environment instead of stripping it; bringing the idea of holism full circle for himself, and all who choose to join him for a cob dance on the road less traveled by.
