Dear Builder’s Engineer,

My house was built in the early ‘70s, using 2×6 rafters spanning 13 feet between ridge board and wall. I live in New York State with a good-sized snow load. The roof has developed a sag between the ridge line and the rafter tails. I attribute that to the rafters being undersized and sagging in the middle. The sag is not horrible; I would guess it’s about an inch, maybe a little more. Still, I would like to do something now rather than wait to see if it gets worse.

A few details:

• roof pitch is 4 on 12
• a plain ranch style house…no hips or valleys…just front and back
• rafters are nailed directly to the ceiling joists
• rafters and joists are 2×6

I’m wondering if collar ties would help. I could take 12-foot 2×6’s and position them underneath the paired, opposing rafters, miter the tie ends to fit under the rafters and then use tie plates or gang nail plates to attach the ties to the rafters. I’ve read that is stronger than just nailing the collar tie to the side of the rafter. I thought that it would be best to get the collar ties supporting the midpoint of the rafter or as close as possible, that’s why I thought 12-foot length collar ties would be better.

Any thoughts or suggestions would be appreciated.

Daniel in NY

 Dear Daniel,

Following is a sketch of your roof framing as I understand it. I analyzed this using a computer and the following assumptions:

• Snow load = 35 psf (pounds per square foot)
• Dead load from comp roofing and self-weight of framing = 15 psf
• Spacing of rafters = 2 feet

First, a little theory:

Truss vs. Rafter. There are big differences between rafters and trusses. A rafter bears at both ends; typically on a wall at the low end and on a ridge beam at the high end. There is no outward thrust at the low end of a rafter.

But what about a rafter that really isn’t one? I’m speaking of a sloping “rafter” with a pitch of 2:12 or greater, with no ridge beam—usually a puny 1x or 2x instead—and no connection to a ceiling joist, truss bottom chord, or other horizontally-restraining member at the low end. If you’ve got this, you’ve got trouble. Without the support of a sturdy ridge beam at the high end, there is nothing to keep that high end from going down. The low end can’t go down because it’s sitting on a wall providing vertical support, so when the ridge sags, the low end must move outward. Bad, bad situation. At the end of this chapter is a case study exploring a fix for such a “non-rafter” system.

The absence of a beefy ridge beam is fairly common, but in such a case, the low end of each (rafter) must be connected to some other member providing horizontal restraint, such as a ceiling joist. We call this connection the heel, and the overall system a truss. In this case, the rafter is no longer called a rafter, but a top chord.

A triangular truss has very large forces at each heel. It is the heel connection that keeps the top chord’s low end from moving outward. Also, the top chord of a truss has two kinds of stresses: bending and compression; whereas a rafter has only one: bending. Basically, a triangular truss has to work very hard because it is paying the price of a long span with no interior support.

So whenever you come upon a distressed truss, the best remedy is to add interior support(s), thus lessening the span and member stresses. You can bolster trusses, but without additional support, you’re simply spreading stress around—stress that must still be dealt with, and which becomes troublesome, particularly at connection points.

Let’s look at the truss in question. Note the 2×6 top chord is 217 percent overstressed and will sag 1.6 inches under a full snow load. The force at each heel is 1,700 pounds which requires twelve 16d nails to keep the top chord from moving outward. It is a miracle this roof hasn’t imploded.

Can anyone tell me how to cram twelve 16d’s into the small overlap space where the top chord and bottom chord (ceiling joist) come together? I think if you tried, you’d massacre the wood so badly, none would be left to hold the nails. It is for this very reason that gang-nail plates were invented.

Everyone wants to fix their sagging trusses with collar ties, presumably because they’re relatively easy to install. Here is the subject truss with a collar tie at the top chord mid-span.

Now the top chord is in better shape: only 70 percent overstressed with 0.82-inch sag. But look at the connections. Each collar tie connection point must resist 2,100 pounds of force, which would require fourteen 16d nails. Can’t be done. Also, the collar tie is in such compression that a 2x won’t cut it; a 4x is needed. But even more troubling is what happens at the heel. The top chord/bottom chord force has ballooned to a whopping 2,850 pounds. No way to make this connection. In short, the collar tie took load from the top chord and shuffled it around to other places, but those other places can’t take it.

When this column originally ran, I suggested the following upgrade: sister 2×6’s on to the existing rafters, like so:

This reduces the stress and sag of the top chord by half, but more importantly, does not increase the load on the heel connection. Note the sistered 2×6’s need only cover the middle 70 percent +/- of the rafter, not the entire span. This is because the sag is a bending problem (as opposed to shear, tension, or compression), which occurs in the middle two-thirds or so of the top chord. Bending stresses go to zero at the top chord ends; thus, no bolstering is needed there. I like this solution better than the collar tie. For more on beam theory, see my book, Basic Structural Concepts for the Non-Engineer, available at www.constructioncalc.com.

If we really want to solve the problem, we’ll find additional interior support. Like so:

Note that this completely solves the sag and top chord overstress problems, and it hugely reduces the heel connection force. The rub is making sure the interior support can truly take the load. In our example we’re adding about 600 pounds per foot (that comes from 1,200 pounds per truss, which are spaced every two feet) to the interior supporting wall—no small amount. If this wall has a continuous footing below it, it is probably okay. If this wall has large openings in it, those must be spanned with a beam, and the ends of said beam(s) need proper support all the way to a proper footing.

I once was involved in an old schoolhouse with a badly sagging roof. It was a hip system, about 8:12 pitch. There were no trusses, it was a rafter system; but amazingly, there were no beams at ridges, hips, or valleys. So the outward thrust at rafter heels had to be taken by the walls, but they couldn’t, so there were big outward bulges in the exterior walls. It is a miracle this building didn’t implode in one of our snowy northwest winters—a testament to the toughness of wood. Here is a sketch showing the problem and the fix (shaded).

We did our best to winch the exterior walls back to plumb and jack the roof back up. Then we installed a series of beams directly supporting the rafters, ridges, hips, and valleys. Of course, the new beams had to bear on something, so we positioned them over existing walls below and then retrofitted footings in the crawl space where the new loads came down. Interestingly, the contractor’s first suggestion was to install collar ties as a fix. No, no, no.

In summary, there is no easy fix for an improperly designed roof framing system. Collar ties are almost never recommended. Rather, find a way to add interior support, taking loads all the way to a good footing. And certainly, the best alternative is to design it right the first time.

 “Tim,” he carped, “I’ve got a new high-end home project in San Francisco that an engineer WAY overdesigned. This guy spec’d so much rebar, there’s no room left for the concrete. No contractor will bid the job – and that’s saying something in these tough times. He’s killed the project! I’d call the joker but I’m so hacked right now I’d probably say something I shouldn’t. And besides, you know how certain engineers can never be wrong? I’m in a bad way here. Would you be interested in re-engineering this thing?”

 Red lights and flags went up in my head. I’ve been down this road before. Were I to say yes, here’s what would likely happen. I’d redo the job and find that the other engineer didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he’s some government paper pusher moonlighting – it happens all the time. Anyway, when he gets wind that my design used less than half the  rebar and 2/3 the concrete, to save face, he attacks me. Now I have to defend my design to the State Board, or, I have to report him to the State Board for practicing outside his area of expertise (it’s law, by the way, that a licensed engineer must rat out any other engineer who violates the state’s ethics rules.)

 On the other hand, it really gripes me to hear of engineers overdesigning. Not only is it anti-green, it’s hard on projects and gives our profession a black eye.

“Tell you what, Sty,” I said. “I’ll look into it for you. What’s this guy’s name and who is the architect?”

“The engineer’s name is Tomache Steele and the architect is Cary Granite. Here are their phone numbers.”

I called the architect first. After a few pleasantries, I said, “I don’t know if I can help or not, Cary, but the first step is for me to look at the plans. Can you email them over please?”

“No problem,” he said. “I’ll also pdf you the calcs. Tomache’s contact information is there but good luck talking to him. It usually takes a few days to get a call back.”

“So you’ve worked with him before?”

“Yes, several times. Mostly because his fees are low. Someday I’ll learn my lesson though and stop using him. Not only are his designs over-engineered, he’s a terrible communicator, and he’s always several weeks late. Grrrr.”

“Roger that. I’ll see what I can do.”

“How soon can you look at this?” he said. “We’re just about through plan review with the city and we’re thinking to take the revised design back to them after we have a permit in hand.”

“My schedule is pretty open,” I said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”

The plans popped up on my computer a few minutes later. I’ve engineered many concrete projects over the years, a dozen or more being ICF, and I have never seen such flagrant overkill. Truly, there was at least double the rebar needed and the walls could have been two inches thinner. Greenhorn, I thought. He’s probably some bureaucrat with no real-world experience locked in a sea of cubicles in some non-descript low-rise.

Then I looked at the calcs.

First, the letterhead identified a small, local private engineering firm. So much for my bureaucrat-in-a-cubicle theory. Second, I was shocked to see “S.E.” under Tomache’s name. This guy is a full-blown structural engineer! If you’re unfamiliar with the title, it means he has not only taken and passed his professional engineer’s license exam, he’s also taken and passed a 2^nd exam, a two-day brain buster akin to the bar exam for lawyers. Very few who take it pass it. In fact, only a select few qualify to take the S.E. Having the letters “S.E.” behind your name is a big deal – it places you in elite company among engineers.

The calcs themselves were beyond professional, 100% typed – nothing by hand, with computer-generated sketches of every structural element. And thorough? Holy smokes, the guy took more pages just coming up with one seismic force than some engineers take designing an entire building.

Top it all off with the fact that the local jurisdiction is the City of San Francisco. Which, last time I did a project there, had an S.E. or two on staff. So Tomache’s calcs have likely already been reviewed by one of his brethren, who would likely frown on a lowly P.E. (me) correcting them.

This was not at all what I had anticipated.

What to do? What would you do?

Here’s what I did. I picked up the phone and called Tomache. In my way of thinking, the best possible outcome would be for him to recognize his overly conservative design and back it down some. There is a name for that, actually, it’s called “value engineering.” And it’s pretty common. In fact certain consultants make their living at it – they’re essentially hired guns who analyze projects and recommend alternate methods to save money. My challenge was to do precisely that without offending.

It took three days and several attempts, but finally Tomache called me back. The conversation went better than I expected. He spent several minutes defensively explaining his rationale for all that rebar, particularly in the two walls with all the windows. I listened patiently then made a few calm suggestions which he conceded were worth revisiting, and that possibly he’d been a bit conservative.

In the end, his redesign was not as efficient as if another engineer had done it. Still too much concrete and steel, in my opinion. But no one got sued, contractors will bid it, and it will be built. Someday the owners will occupy their nice new ICF home, blissfully ignorant of all this behind-the-scenes drama and that they paid quite a bit more than they should have. Was it the best possible outcome? Maybe.

This, for the most part true, tale illuminates several takeaways worth restating:

* You generally get what you pay for.

* Bad design will cost far more in construction than you saved up front in fees.

* A person’s credentials don’t always equate to competence.

* Engineers are not created equally. Give any two the same set of plans and they’ll produce two very different designs. This, regardless of the fact that both engineers are bound by the same code.

* Sometimes the best solution is not a redo by someone else. Try communication first, always.

* Value engineering can be a very good idea. Even if it costs money. Many times the savings realized more than cover the cost, plus it puts another set of qualified eyes on the project and that’s never a bad thing.

What about me – how did I make out? Well, monetarily, I didn’t. But I’m okay eating a couple hours to help a distressed project. Also there’s the hope that this architect and sales rep will remember me before hiring Tomache next time. I call it goodwill marketing.

Rule number 1 in all business is you survive only if you sell things. Goods or services, it doesn’t matter; money only flows in when the register goes cha-ching. I found out a long time ago that selling is impossible without marketing. In the old days it was easy, you paid for ads. Nowadays you’d better be computer and internet savvy or you’re sunk. Right?

If you believe marketing experts, that’s right. My experience, however, bears a different conclusion.

Fearful that I might miss a sales opportunity, I’ve thrown myself into internet marketing with a zeal reminiscent of a dog pack at a kill. I built a website. Actually, I’m on my fourth or fifth (I’ve lost count), and actually I didn’t build them, I paid others to. The words “paid others” is a wretched recurring theme in this whole worldwide web business.

When blogs came into vogue I shot onto that bandwagon and got myself one. Wasn’t sure why. Heck, I wasn’t even sure what a blog was, but the experts shouted that I needed one, so by-golly, I paid others to set mine up.

Right after that people started inviting me to join them at LinkedIn. And Facebook. And Twitter. And MerchantCircle. Marketing experts howled that I must join! Fearing the next great gold rush might pass me by, I flailed about setting up accounts and accepting invitations. A few of the people who invited me I actually knew.

I could go on, there’s more. Especially the “paid others” parts. But what’s interesting is that sales of my software and books have been absolutely immune to all of these gyrations. I’ve tracked sales through each Smoking Hot Internet Marketing Revelation and can report with certainty that they don’t work worth a hoot. At least not for me.

I even tried Pay-Per-Click (PPC) through Google, Yahoo, and MSN (now Bing). If you’re unfamiliar, that’s where a potential customer goes to one of those search engines and types in a search phrase, such as “structural software”. If I’ve bid high enough for that search term, my company’s products will come up either in the right column or at the top of the list. This is a good idea in concept, but in reality it’s fraught with financial peril. First, most people on the internet are looking for freebies. My products cost money. Not a lot, but they’re not free. PPC could care less. Every click is charged to my account regardless of whether the person buys or bails. Pretty much they all bail. Another problem with PPC is that the best search terms cost a lot. For example, a top position for “structural software” on Google is going for $4.53 per click. That might not seem like much until you multiply out several hundred searches a day times seven days a week times four weeks a month…

To summarize my PPC experience, I spent thousands for a blip on a sales graph so small most would confuse it for a scab. After four months, I bailed.

So now what? Not only have I thrown a couple vacation’s worth of dough into the ditch that is the internet, I’ve consumed a couple lifetimes learning and trying to make it work.

The secret may lie in the word, “learning”. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

* People buy things when they need them. Trying to convince someone she needs your product when she really doesn’t is hard. Very hard.

* There are ways to get people to buy your product even when they don’t exactly need it. But such means are not available to normal humans. For example:

            o- Get a celebrity endorsement. I tried this and found that celebrities don’t want to talk to you unless: A) You’re a celebrity. In which case you wouldn’t need another one. B) You guarantee the celebrity A LOT of money for sales that have not yet occurred. I’ve never been able to convince even a non-celebrity that I could deliver on such a promise.

            o- Spend so much money advertising that you create need. People don’t want to be left out of the latest fashion. So if your message reaches enough people enough times, they’ll figure they’re missing out and buy. Remember the Chia Pet, Rubik’s Cube, and more recently, the Snuggie? My wife asks me why I couldn’t have thought of those brilliant gimmicks. Maybe I could have, but the problem is I don’t possess enough money to force-feed them to the masses.

* People buy from companies they trust. They’ll even pay top dollar if they know the company is truly trustworthy and committed to service.

* If you’re a small company with a limited advertising budget, the most you can hope for using internet marketing is to get your brand out there, and to build trust. When a customer is ready to purchase, if you’ve done those things, your chances of a sale are better than those of a competitor who hasn’t.

* There are many companies eager to harvest your marketing dollars. Save your money. The best internet advertising, in my battle-scarred opinion, is absolutely free. It’s call a forum.

A forum is a little like a blog except it doesn’t restrict its benefits to only the person hosting it. Blogs and Twitter are great if you’re a celebrity because people, for some baffling reason, care what celebrities say and will visit their site. Not many people care what you or I think, let alone work up the gumption to post a comment about it. With a forum, you can be a nobody and still reach many, many people.

I recently joined a construction-related forum and started posting. Immediately I was building relationships and earning a readership. I got more feedback and notoriety from a single forum post than I have from a year’s worth of blogging. Why? Because it wasn’t just me spouting one-way rhetoric. Everyone in the forum community could either agree or disagree, and doing so is really easy. Talk about awesome exchange of ideas! Now that’s what the internet should be all about.

I liked that forum so much I set one up myself (okay, paid others) at ConstructionCalc.com. So from now on that’s where I’ll live, virtually. And I’d love you to join me. It’s 100% free, no pressure to buy anything, and your email address won’t be pedaled to anyone.

My goal is to create the place where builders, architects, engineers, and code officials gather to toss around tough construction issues. You can check it out here: http://www.constructioncalc.com/blog/userforum/. I strongly subscribe to the notion that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, so this forum also contains “humor, bragging rights, and other off-topic” topics.

For those of you who’ve somehow missed out on the internet social media marketing hoax, good for you. If you’ve been worrying that the Igoldrush Express is racing by and you missed the train, don’t worry, you haven’t. In fact, you’re probably dollars and time ahead.

I bet there’s at least one thing in this article about which you have an opinion. Please share. This article will be posted under the “Business and General” theme at http://www.constructioncalc.com/blog/userforum/.

Thanks in advance if you choose to accept this mission.

Rick Krause

TIM’S RESPONSE

Hi Rick,

Thanks for asking. Attached is the printout for your floor joist.  You could use 2, 2×8 at 16″ OC and be safe, but I guarantee the floor will be bouncy. If you used 12″ OC, it would still be bouncy. I understand your height constraint and so you might be okay with the bounciness as a tradeoff for the headroom of 2×8 joists.

If you wanted a stiff floor you’d have to use deeper joists. The analysis in ProBeam would be exactly the same except you’d pump up the deflection criteria to say L/600 and L/480.

Thanks again.

Example Flr Joist ProBeam 11-4-09

Building codes are a relatively new invention. The first widely-accepted building code in the U.S. was written in the early 1900s. Today’s building code, the International Building Code (IBC), has its roots in the Uniform Building Code (UBC) which was first published in 1927. Over the years many local jurisdictions adopted building codes but many did not. Even today there are jurisdictions in the U.S. that do not issue building permits nor require adherence to any building code.

Where I live in western Washington, building codes are strictly enforced for any structure from a shed to a fence to a sky scraper. Around here it’s unthinkable that a house might be designed by a non-professional and built without a building permit.

But where my brother lives in Kansas, there are no such requirements. Draw up your plans on a napkin, grab your hammer and go. There are lots of places like that in our country today.

So in America we’ve got quite a mix-mash of structures. A few that meet current codes but many, many that don’t.

I took some photographs the other day of old buildings in my county.

The first one, I call the Titanic. This house is probably at least 50-years-old and as you can see has settled terribly. The house is likely built partially over an old slough that was filled with logs and other debris. The part built over the slough embankments has not settled but the part built over the fill-debris has. This is called differential settlement. Incredibly, people still live in this house.

The next structure is a 75+ year-old commercial building. By today’s standards it contains not a single shear wall nor a horizontal diaphragm. It is listing about a foot out of plumb, yet there it stands.

Here is a very large barn, probably 50+ years old. Note how huge its wind sail area (roof) is. Also you can see that it is located in the middle of an open valley with no trees or other buildings to shield it from the wind. The gable end walls are mostly door openings, and the wood panels in between don’t come close to any sort of legal shear wall. The roof isn’t a legitimate diaphragm. There’s a two-foot sag in the roof at the eaves. Yet year after year, winter after winter, storm after storm, this barn continues to serve.

According to its historic placard, this building was constructed in 1890. It has undergone an extensive tenant improvement, but other than new windows and doors, the exterior walls, floor and roof framing are original. It is built partially over a salt water channel, supported on timber piers. The horizontal siding on the long walls shows settlement up to a foot in several areas. The above photo is the rear wall. Note all the windows and doors (read: no shear panels.)

The front wall is pretty much the same: all windows; which count for nothing in resisting lateral (wind and earthquake) loads. Here is what this wall looks like from the inside:

This is also the front wall, about mid-height.

This wall is constructed of horizontal siding attached to 2×4 studs. Not one shear panel, holdown, or hurricane clip.

Roof framing is 2×6 rafters, originally spanning 20+ feet. There is no ridge beam. I’d go so far as saying there isn’t one code-compliant piece of lumber or connection in this entire building. And in fact most structural elements are overstressed, according to current code, by several hundred percent.

In its 119-year life, why hasn’t this building imploded or blown over?

This last building was also built in 1890. One corner (the one by the streetlight) has settled at least six-inches. But that’s not what makes this one of the most dangerous buildings in the county. The front wall is all glass. No shear walls, no portal frames, no buttress walls, nothing. And the next parallel interior wall is some 30-feet back into the building. As the one corner sinks, the building tilts causing racking (shear) stress on the window wall. Should a window break or crack there is a real possibility that this building would fall over sideways – I’ve seen it happen to a building of similar construction in a nearby town. Yet, this building stands.

All of the aforementioned structures have lived through snow accumulation of several feet, howling wind storms, and earthquakes.

All across America and the world are buildings that don’t come close to meeting current code. It usually takes a hurricane, tornado, severe neglect, freakish snow storm, or 7+ magnitude earthquake to bring them down. And even then many survive.

So what’s the point?

The point is that things not built to code are usually plenty strong and those that are built to code are vastly stronger than they need to be in most cases.

If you live in a jurisdiction that has building codes and enforces them, you don’t have a choice but to comply with those codes. But you don’t need to overbuild.

Let me say that again. Our building codes contain so much factor of safety, no one should ever feel compelled to exceed them. The grossly non-code-compliant buildings on the previous pages, in my opinion, provides stout testimonial.

Our industry should be actively searching for ways to trim our designs so that they just comply with code and no more. If we build stronger than code we’re literally throwing away money and effort. And we’re not building green.

This book is about minimal, yet code-compliant, structural design. Green design. The trick is understanding the underlying structural concepts: where loads come from; where they go; and how they’re resisted. With that knowledge, we can maximize efficiency and save money.

“What are you talk-hak-kaf-ing about,” I replied. “I can’t smell a thing. And I can’t believe your hyper-sensitive nose can either. Hey, don’t run away when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“I’m not running away. I’m standing right here, five feet from your face. You might be able to see me if the smoke wasn’t so thick.”

“Well, a small puff happened to escape when I put in a log just now. Probably clear –hak- up in a few –kaf- minutes.”

Cindy didn’t think so and went around throwing open every door and window in the place.

“You’re letting all the warm air out!” I cried. “And the arctic air in. You’re defeating the whole purpose of the wood stove!”

“Right now I wouldn’t care if a blizzard blew through as long as it brought some fresh air with it. This place smells like an ashtray.”

At that point I knew I had a problem. My gal is warm-blooded if ever a gal was. Any temperature below 74 sends her into a shiver. Which really gripes me because winters here in the northwest get cold. And to maintain 74-degrees in our house takes tremendous energy. Energy costs money, which, by my nature, I am generally opposed to spending.

As a last-ditch effort I tried the old martyr ploy. “You, know,” I said, “if you can’t take a little smoke, maybe we shouldn’t use the wood stove at all. Heck, the old ranch house I grew up in didn’t even have a heater, nor insulation. In the winter, we just put on an extra pair of socks. Yeah it was cold, but we were tough. You get used to icicles and numbness after a while.”

She didn’t flinch and countered, “The house I grew up in had a heater and my parents weren’t too cheap to use it. Our house here, it has a heater too – hot water tubes in the floor that cost us a bundle to put in. The thermostat over there on the wall? It works. And I’m not afraid to crank it up!”

So much for that. She had me over a barrel. “Oh, all right,” I said. “I think I know why the stove is smoking. I noticed the other day that  I can’t see daylight through the pipe’s rain cap any more. Maybe it’s plugged a little. Probably time I cleaned it.”

I didn’t bother telling her that a properly maintained chimney should be cleaned yearly. Nor did I reminder her of my buddy, Ole VanStruedel, who, like me, neglected to clean his wood stove pipe one year. A layer of creosote, which is combustible, built up in it. He came home one day to a pile of smoldering ash where his house used to be. Chimney fire. But worse than Ole, I’d neglected to clean our stovepipe each of the past five years.

“You?” Cindy asked. “You’re going to climb up our steep roof? Hon, that’s dangerous. Why don’t you call a chimney sweep?”

Yes! The martyr points were rolling in.

“Ohhh no,” I said in a tone intended to elicit maximum guilt, “that would cost money and we’re in this recession. No, I’ll just rig a ladder and do it myself.”

I held firm to her crying and blubbering about how I might fall off and break my back and not be able to work or throw the baseball to our sons any more. Women can be such worry warts.

Saturday morning I walked onto the deck and looked up the 12 and 12 pitched roof at the stovepipe. (12 and 12 pitch equals 45-degrees. To convert, you take the inverse tangent of the quotient. Tan^-1(12/12) = 45-degrees. Cool.) I’ve done some roofing in my day, but never anything over 5 and 12 (22-degrees). You can walk reasonably safely on a 5 and 12 roof but at the end of the day your ankles hurt. At 6 and 12, walking gets dicey. At 10 and 12, you crawl, all the while praying there are no rogue patches of sawdust or other lubricants on the surface. If you slip on a 10 and 12 roof you might be able to stop yourself before tumbling over the edge, but probably not. And at 12 and 12, you’re a water drop on a tilted, red-hot skillet.

The pipe exited the roof near the peak, three stories above ground level. But, should a highly improbable fall occur, I wouldn’t plummet the entire three stories. The deck, about half-way down, would stop me. Broken arms, maybe a leg, at the worst. The risk was acceptable so the question became how to rig a ladder.

After a good deal of head scratching, I devised the perfect plan. I have some 6-foot-long, 2×12 ramps I use to load motorcycles and quads into pick up trucks. They have 2×4 cleats, kind of like ladder rungs  nailed at about 15-inch spacing on the down side. Laid upside down on the roof, they would make a perfect ladder.

The next problem was how to secure the low end of my make-shift ladder to the roof. I didn’t trust the rain gutter to hold it and I didn’t’ want to pound nails through the shingles, so I had to get creative. As luck would have it, the stove pipe is located directly between two dormers. I was able to rig a 2×4 cross-brace between them which acted as a base on which my ladder rig would bear. Of course I used screws into the trim, not nails. Nails can pull out.

After about an hour I had my ramp in place. Unfortunately, it reached a good two-feet shy of the pipe. The pipe projects up about five-feet vertically, so if I were to stand on the top rung of my ramp, not only would I have to lean considerably to even touch the pipe, with the slope factored in, I’d still be a foot too low to really get at the rain cap. This meant I needed to rig up a second ramp.

But there was a slight problem. My first ramp pointed directly at the pipe so if I were to continue with the second, it, being 6-feet long, would crash into the pipe. A dumb person might think, just cut the 2^nd ramp to fit.  Pshaw. No respectable shade-tree carpenter cuts a perfectly good ramp. No, I would instead rig an offset.

Down came the first ramp and to the garage I went. Half-an-hour later I emerged, smiling, carrying the first ramp with an offset 2×4 projecting 12-inches sideways from the top rung. The second ramp would bear on this and extend 3-feet past the pipe. Of course, being a structural engineer, I made sure the offset was plenty strong. And I also braced the bottom of the first ramp to the dormer to keep it from slipping sideways from the applied moment (a torquing force) resulting from my weight on the offset. How would a non-engineer ever know to do that?  I mused. A guy could get hurt if he didn’t know what he was doing.

Another half-hour later I had the rig on the roof, ready to go. Carefully, slowly, I crept up onto the lower ramp. Checking my jugular vein, I was relieved that the earthquake I thought I’d felt was only my heart. In a crawling attitude, I inched my way up. After one rung it became apparent that my 20-year-old ramp was warped. Badly. As I eased forward, it teetered alarmingly under my weight. I fought back visions of myself tumbling, the contents of my tool belt spraying over the countryside, down the roof.

I performed a quick statics calculation concerning friction and stability of a platform resting on a 45-degree-angled plane. At what angle would the platform become unstable and launch backward? Why did my 175 pounds feel like it was poised to fling into space in violation of gravity? How high would I bounce when I hit the deck?

I heard a door open and then footsteps. Gaaa, my wife! Suddenly, shrieking and crying filled the air.

“What in the heck are you doing?” She asked calmly, shielding the sun with a hand.

“Oh, not much,” I said, striving valiantly to conceal my mounting terror. “Just on my way up the roof to clean the rain cap.”

“Oh. What’s with all the shrieking and crying? You could lose your balance.”

“That? Shucks… just crowing about how exhilarating it is to be on top of the world!”

“Unh, okay. But be careful, hunh? The boys still need someone to throw BP to them, ha ha. And also, you wouldn’t want to encourage those birds up there.”

I craned my neck upward. A couple of dark shapes plied circles in the sky directly over me. Buzzards! Cripes! “Yeah, ha ha. Don’t worry – I’m good.”

End of Part 1.

Before I recount coach Wolgamott’s speech, I need to tell you that I was especially struck by the applicability of the principles therein to any business. Brad was addressing a bunch of deflated 16U boys but could have just as easily been talking to a group of dinged up businessmen emerging from the recession. Here is what he said, as nearly as I can recollect.

“Boys, now that we’ve got a few games under our belts you can see that baseball here in Florida is a lot different than in Washington. In Washington, you guys are all studs. You’re used to winning, playing well, dominating. Here, you’re just average, if that.

“There’s not much we can do to change things this year – not enough time. But most of you will be back next year.  So you’ve got a choice. Will you be mediocre again? Or will you come back to win? The choice is yours. If you choose to win, you need to do two things.

“First, you need to get a whole lot smarter about the game of baseball. Do you realize that we’re averaging nine errors per game? I’m not talking about dropped balls or wild throws or physical errors, I’m talking mental errors. Dumb base running, missing signs, poor throwing decisions, bad pitch selection – things like that. Most of those errors costs us an extra base here or an out there. No big deal, right? Wrong. Add them all up and we’re giving away a couple or few runs per game. We’ve only lost by two or three runs in three of our four losses. You do the math.

“Baseball is an incredibly complex game. People think you take a ball, bat, and mitt and start playing. It ain’t that way, fellas. Listen to professional ballplayers and every one of them will tell you they’re learning new things nearly every day. Guys who’ve been playing for twenty, thirty years. Complex? Unimaginably so.

“So how do you get smarter? Simple – you study. Bring a notepad to games and write down every error made. When you watch other games, take notes. When you listen to professional announcers, pay attention to the details. Ask questions. Write down answers. Read books and magazine articles. Make yourself not just a student of the game but a master of the game. Look here at my notebook. How many of you have taken even one note? I’ve got six pages. I’m just an assistant coach on this thrown-together team and I’ve already taken six pages of notes. I can tell you every error we’ve made, both physically and mentally. Can you? You want to get better? Learn from yours and other people’s mistakes. If you don’t write them down you will repeat them, I guarantee it.

“The second thing you need to do is keep the following thought in your mind constantly over the next year: ‘If I want to advance to the highest level, I’ve got to stand out.’

“So simple, so elegant, yet so powerful. How many of you feel like you’ve stood out here in Florida? Like you were something really special? None? I agree, none of you. But you saw some players who did stand out, didn’t you? Do you think it’s an accident for them? That they’re just so naturally gifted they can show up here with the best in the nation and be the best of the best? Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. Actually, it’s fortunate that it doesn’t because that means regular guys like you, if you work hard, have a shot at being a top dog.

“If you want to stand out next year, will you do the same workouts as everyone else? When everyone else is pushing weights for 45 minutes will you do 45 too? Or will you do 75? When everyone else shows up to practice at exactly the appointed time will you scuttle in on the minute? Or will you be 45 minutes early; get in some extra conditioning? During drills, will you go through the motions like a sheep in the herd or will you bust your butt on every rep? Will you stand out even at practice? Will you leave at straight up 5:00 or will you stay late, taking more grounders and cuts? Will you learn things and not write them down – like everyone else? Or will you become a master of this incredibly complex game?

“There are a couple professional athletes that stand out in my mind: Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods. I’ve studied them both and can tell you that, yes, they’re gifted. But more important, they work harder than everyone else.  No one matches their work ethic, no one. And, no one is smarter about their game. They reached the pinnacle of their sport because they mastered even the smallest nuances and they worked the hardest.

“So, fellas, you have a choice. Will you come back here next year and be another face in the crowd; or will you be one of the few who stands out?”

MONKEY WARDS MAN: Hello sir, may I help you?

CHARLIE: Yes. I purchased these tires here a couple years ago and one of them had a sidewall blowout. I’d like it replaced please.

MONKEY WARDS MAN: How many miles do you have on this tire, sir?

CHARLIE: About 20,000.

MONKEY WARDS MAN: (looking at a chart in a binder) Well, the pro rata credit towards a new tire is seven dollars. The replacement cost to you, then, will be only twenty four dollars. Can we put that on for you now, sir?

CHARLIE: (agitated) What do you mean pro rata credit? This tire blew out in the sidewall, it didn’t wear out. I call that defective – something that should be replaced at no cost.

MONKE WARDS MAN: I’m sorry, sir, but store policy prohibits…

CHARLIE: (angry) Do you have a manager? I’d like to speak to him.

MONKEY WARDS MAN: No problem, sir. I’ll find him for you.

The short conclusion to this story is that Montgomery Wards would not budge on their tire policy and my dad not only did not spend another twenty four dollars for a new tire, he never again set foot in Montgomery Wards. Ever.

The next  tire trouble happened at Pep Boys in Modesto, California in about 1978.

PEP BOY: Hello sir, may I help you?

CHARLIE: Yes. My Volkswagen van has a flat tire. I’d like it patched please.

PEP BOY: No problem sir. Is it a Pep Boys tire?

CHARLIE: No, it’s an original that came with the vehicle.

PEP BOY: Oh, geez, I’m sorry, sir, we only patch Pep Boys tires. I’m afraid I’ll have to refer you to the service station down the road.

CHARLIE: (agitated) Well, I can see that you’re not very busy today. Surely it wouldn’t be any skin off your butt to patch this tire for a long-time Pep Boys customer like me?

PEP BOY: I see your point, sir, however, store policy prohibits…

Once again, the store manager did not waiver and my dad drove on down the road never to return. Not to that Pep Boys store nor to any other.

His final tire tribulation occurred recently at Walmart. He purchased a set of tires there and paid with his Chase Bank credit card. Walking out of the store it occurred to him that he needed to purchase something else so he about-faced, found it and proceeded to checkout. He whipped out his Chase Bank card.

WALMA’AM: Sir, my system is rejecting your credit card. Can you pay with cash or a check?

CHARLIE: What!? I just spent over four hundred dollars with that same card in your tire department and I know there’s plenty of room left under the card’s limit.

WALMA’AM: I’m sure that’s true, sir, but my system won’t accept it. Maybe a check?

CHARLIE: (agitated) You know, I’m probably the best credit card customer you’ve ever had. I pay my card off every month. But, if your system insists on rejecting me I suppose I’ll have to write a check (takes out his checkbook and writes a check for twenty nine dollars.)

WALMAA’M: Sir, I hate to tell you this but your check is being rejected too.

CHARLIE: (angry) What is it with you people!!? I can tell you there’s at least eight thousand dollars in that account!

WALMA’AM: Maybe its your out of state driver’s license, sir, I don’t know. All I know is my system won’t let me process your payment.

CHARLIE: (obstinent) Tell you what, ma’am, if you’ll hold my item I’ll drive down to the bank, withdraw some cash and bring back the account balance slip to prove that there’s money in there.

WALMA’AM: Do what you wish, sir. But if you want to come through my line again you’d better hurry. I go on break in thirty-five minutes.

Dad walked out, drove to the bank, got cash and balance slip, and made it back in time to show it to the clerk.

WALMA’AM: Sir, I see your balance is as you said but it’s not that I didn’t trust you in the first place. It’s that my cash register locks up if the check doesn’t clear. Now, if you have twenty nine dollars in cash…

CHARLIE: Ma’am, if you won’t take my check, you’ve lost your sale.

WALMA’AM: Sir, I’m sorry but store policy prohibits…

So indeed she did lose her sale. And Walmart lost a customer, permanently.

My dad and I were recently recounting these stories, which caused me to chuckle and him to heat up at the frustration all over again. I’m glad I didn’t inherit his grudge gene. At any rate, this story does have a bright ending.

CHARLIE: You, know, Tim, my utility trailer has a flat tire. Where do you go for tire work?

TIM: That’s an easy one, Pop. I do all my tire business with Les Schwab.

CHARLIE: Really? Why’s that?

TIM: It’s all about service. See, when I have a flat, I take the tire in and they patch it for free.

CHARLIE: Suuure, as long as it’s a Les Schwab tire I bet.

TIM: Oh no. They’ll patch any brand. And they do it with a smile.

My wife happened to be nearby and was listening in.

CINDY: And the guys there run.

TIM: That’s right, they really run. They fix your flat cheerfully, don’t charge, and don’t put a guilt trip on you to buy anything. It’s an amazing thing.

CHARLIE: Okay but how’re their prices? They probably bait you with that flat tire gig and then stick it to you when you buy. Right?

TIM: Wrong. Their prices are very competitive – especially if you shop their ads. And get this: I’ve actually bought used tires there – good steel belted ones with lots of life left – for as little as twenty-five bucks. And, there was no upselling or high pressure.

CHARLIE: Okay, I’ll give them a try.

The next day…

TIM: So did you get your trailer tire fixed at Les Schwab?

CHARLIE: Yep.

CINDY: And did they run?

CHARLIE: I don’t know if they actually ran but they did hustle.

TIM: Was it service with a smile?

CHARLIE: Yes it was. In fact I tried to pay the gentleman cash money, twice, but he wouldn’t take it. And he didn’t try to sell me on anything else. I guess I’ll have to start keeping an eye out for the Les Schwab ads.

This tiresome tale could have been about any commodity or service. There are several lessons to be learned:

* There really are people out there like Charlie Garrison who can hold a grudge longer than people have been sighting Elvis. And their memory is better than any elephant’s.

* A business policy that repels good paying customers should be reexamined. Particularly when the few dollars saved is greatly exceeded by the many dollars lost in future sales.

* If you can give something of value away, do it. It builds trust and loyalty.

* Hustle. Customers notice.

* Don’t  use hard sell or upselling techniques. Consumers are very sensitive to being hustled.

* A long-term, happy customer is better than a single sale.

* All customers – happy ones and hacked off ones – tell their friends and families about their experiences. You want to be on the purveyor of happy.

* Service trumps price for most customers. And the customers who are motivated only by price are probably best left to your competitors.

You might think that I own stock in Les Schwab or that they’re paying me to write this. Not so. They gained my trust and loyalty the old-fashioned way – they earned it. I am such a devout fan that I bought and read Les Schwab’s book. I had to know how a huge company like that manages to pull of such excellent customer service at every single store – and there are hundreds, maybe thousands of them. The answer is so simple and so elegant: Employee ownership. Les Schwab was a pioneer in creating employee-owned franchises. The bottom line being that every person working in a Les Schwab store is either a partial owner or has the guaranteed opportunity to become one. Nothing creates incentive for excellence like ownership.

General

Green framing, advanced framing, frugal framing – call it what you will – but in the end it’s all about saving money and resources. 

There are lots of ways build-green can be incorporated into a structure: energy efficient appliances and fixtures, special doors and windows, more and better insulation, smart site planning and earthwork to name a few. This chapter is not about those, it’s about stick framing methods – strategies that conserve lumber, concrete, and steel, not to mention the manpower associated with their installation.  

A Little Background

Billions of dollars are wasted every year in overbuilt structures. Not only have I been a framer and been guilty of many wasteful practices myself, I see the inefficiency and waste every time I walk a jobsite. Some examples:

• Too-big beams and headers
• Too much blocking
• Too many studs
• Too many trimmers and king studs
• Too many cripples
• Too many holdowns
• Too many shear walls
• Too many posts and piers in crawlspaces

How did we get billion-dollar-wasteful?

Here’s how:

• Building codes have gotten more and more restrictive over the years. They’ve also become so bloated and difficult to use most building industry folks avoid them like the dentist. The result is we’re gun-shy about being efficient. The accepted code mentality is “more is better.” So when we aren’t sure, we throw in more. Tons and tons and tons more. We may as well throw most of that “more” into a landfill; it does no good whatsoever. And in fact, a lot of the time it is counter-productive: more wood, concrete, and steel means less insulation; and more weight adds proportionally to seismic forces. There is no code-incentive for efficiency.
• Most builders have no training in basic structural theory. Its tough to question a more-is-better mentality when you’re not really sure of the underlying concepts. How do builders learn their trade? From other builders; who learned from other builders before them, and so on. Where’s the formal structural training? It’s never been there.
• Most architects and designers don’t receive enough structural training to make them experts. They generally know enough to size a beam or post but to really sharpen the pencil and get efficient puts them out of their comfort zone. And why go there when the building code doesn’t require or encourage it?
• Most engineers are more worried about liability than saving someone else’s money (the owner’s). They have little incentive to produce efficient designs. To an engineer, more is safer. It takes extra time to explore green alternatives, and with engineers especially, time equals money. Why should an engineer cost himself more money, incur more liability, and go against the grain of the code, especially when he can snow job the owner as to how massively strong he’s made the building? Owners don’t know to ask the right questions, and the engineer grins all the way to the cruise ship.
• Building officials have zero incentive to enforce or even encourage green techniques. They answer to the building code (see first bullet point.)
• Private industry has no incentive to do anything either. Would you expect lumber companies, framing hardware companies, or concrete companies to stand up and start shouting for less use of their products?  What has happened, however, is that new, efficient mousetraps in the form of SIPs (Structural Insulated Panels) and ICFs (Insulated Concrete Forms) have sprung up. Those are terrific products and I endorse them heartily. But they do nothing for the vast majority of builders who use traditional methods and materials.

It’s a racket and vicious cycle that desperately needs fixing. The first step is education. Once builders, designers, architects, and code officials understand what’s going on and that the solutions are attainable by them, they will start putting pressure on the engineers. Or, better yet, they’ll start implementing the designs themselves.

In the BC days (Before Computers) it was unreasonable to expect non-engineers to perform structural calculations. But with the advent of computers and user-friendly software, now anyone can do basic structural design.

Throughout this chapter we’ll use my company’s software, ConstructionCalc, for our green designs. If you’re new to structural design aids (span tables or software) you’ll probably want to bone up at www.constructioncalc.com, checking out the free examples and white papers.

To keep things popping along, I’ll assume you know the basics. Again, if you need a little background please avail yourself of the freebies at www.constructioncalc.com.

(to be continued)

Copyright, August, 2009, Tim K. Garrison, P.E. All rights reserved.

I’m an engineer, so by rights am allowed certain dorky indulgences. Two examples include my pocket protector – a mid-80’s model, white plastic, the blue ad logo long since worn away, with staples and tape holding it together. And my 1st generation Blackberry – the kind that is actually black and looks like a block of wood. I wear mine strapped to my belt on my right side because I’m left handed. My Blackberry is a kind of security blanket since my wife won’t allow me to wear my calculator that way any more.

I was at my 13-year-old son’s ballgame the other day. It was hot and I’d been dutifully drinking water. Around the 3^rd inning nature called, so to the port-a-potty I went. As I approached the lime green Ace In the Hole, located just out of play behind 1^st base, I was only half watching where I was going because my son was at bat and the other half of my attention was on him. I absently reached for the door and pulled. It had a little catch in the mechanism so I yanked harder and the door popped open. A piercing shriek followed by a loud, “JERK!” startled me. The door was ripped from my hand by the red-faced woman sitting inside. Somehow I’d not noticed that the “Occupied” icon was displayed.

“Sorry,” I blurted. A few moments later my son struck out and the door opened. The woman exited, took two steps and then squared to face me. “You know,” she seethed, “you really should pay attention to the Occupied icon before barging into one of these things. It’s bad enough for a woman to have to use one in the first place let alone being intruded upon by some lecher. I’d probably cuff you one if I weren’t married to you.”

“Gee, I said I was sorry, hon. By the way, Corey struck out.”

“Great,” she grumped and stomped off.

I stepped into the unit and was immediately intrigued by the sudden temperature gain. Outside it was 90-degrees and breezy. Inside it had to be 100-plus with not a wisp of air movement. I turned to the left toward the urinal as my ever-thinking technical mind processed thermodynamic theory in regard to this phenomenon. I unbuckled, trying my best not to let certain septic odors interrupt my absorbing train of thought.

It was then that disaster struck.

I began executing my mission when suddenly I felt a slight shifting of my belt and then a lightening of weight from my right hip. And then I heard a plastic-on-plastic collision followed by a liquidy kerplunk. Snapping my attention toward the sounds, I watched in horror as my Blackberry disappeared beneath the surface of the bluish-brown fluid in the hole.

I instinctively clamped down on my pee valve which closed with a mighty clang, or so it felt. I then silently cursed my wife. In her haste to rebuke me for an innocent gaffe, she had left the lid up. (I could go into a lengthy grouse on the topic of men vs. women and toilet seats but that might dilute the story at hand.) My Blackberry belt clasp apparently did not have a tight enough grip on my belt and had slipped through. The rig fell from my hip, bounced on the rim and caromed through the opening, perfectly obeying Newton’s Laws. I then cursed my left-handedness. Had I been right-handed my Blackberry would have been strapped to my left side and would have fallen benignly to the floor rather than into the turd tub.

Not one to panic, I paused for some analysis. There are two phases of port-a-potty use conditions, I thought. Phase 1 shall be called the pre-buildup phase. This is when the unit has been primed with blue solution but has not received sufficient deposits to constitute a buildup. Phase 2 shall be called the growing-mound phase. This occurs when an ample number of solid deposits have displaced and absorbed the initial blue solution. Phase 2 is characterized by a pyramidal-shaped heap; invariably the pinnacle being created by someone with dysentery.

The conditions in my case favored phase 1, with indications that phase 2 was not far behind. The question, of course, was should I fish or cut bait? Had it been phase 2, the answer would have been obvious: fish. Presumably, my Blackberry would have been perched on top of the pile and I could have gingerly plucked it free. A little wiping and all would have been fine. But, alas, I was jinxed with a phase 1.

How deep to the bottom? I bent over to take a closer look. Unfortunately, the evil liquor was so obscured with flotsam that my vision could not penetrate its depths.

It was then that a second disaster struck.

With no warning whatsoever my shirt pocket suddenly lightened. My hand instinctively groped for my falling pocket protector. I grasped air as my 25-year-old treasure and the pens and pencils it contained deftly made a perfect swish through the hoop and landed, plop, in the murky juice.

I’m not sure whether I felt more sorry for myself or the youngster who unsuspectingly opened the door at that moment and witnessed a grown man, sweating like a Phoenix brick layer, his pants down, bent over and reaching into a place where even youngsters know never to tread. Apparently I had failed to lock the door.

Had it been just the Blackberry I probably would have let it lie. But that pocket protector had been with me since grad school – through two marriages, two kids, three or four businesses – that kind of sentimental value doesn’t come along every day and it certainly can’t be purchased at the Sprint Store. So plunge I did and was lucky enough to grab both items in the first attempt. It turns out the liquid was only about three-inches deep. The kid at the door blanched, slammed it back shut, and ran away fearing for his life.

It’s now a few weeks later and I have a new Blackberry. I’m not sure whether the blue solution or something else did in the original. No matter, I was due for a new one anyway I suppose. I am happy to report  that my pocket protector is still proudly adorning my shirt pocket every day. I cleaned and sanitized it, of course. It’s been through so much, well, let me put it this way, neither Timex (It takes a licking…) nor Samsonite (gorilla-proof) have a thing on this future family heirloom. It is my dork badge, my good luck charm, my Ace In the Hole if you will.