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With motor oil, it's the mix that matters
The slippery science of motor oil and its additives even has its own name: Tribology
Warren Brown / The Washington Post
LEXINGTON, Ky. -- Frances Lockwood is in charge of product development for the Valvoline division of Ashland Inc., headquartered here. That makes her a rarity.
Valvoline makes motor oils, grease and other lubricants that keep the gears and wheels turning on the male-dominated tracks of auto and motorcycle racing. It also makes Eagle One and Car Brite automotive appearance and restoration products, Zerex antifreeze, Pyroil automotive chemicals and several other liquid maintenance items popular in the world of cars and trucks.
Lockwood, the second woman ever to earn a doctorate in chemical engineering from Penn State University, had a hand in developing most of those products.
She's a tribologist. Tribology is a slippery business. And Lockwood, internationally recognized for her work, has an uncanny knack for greasing the gears.
"I didn't know biology had anything to do with lubricating cars," I said, opening my mouth before fully grasping the meaning of her academic discipline.
Lockwood smiled.
"It's 'tribology,' " she said.
"Oh," I said, thinking she was referring to a biology course that could be studied three ways. Tribology, it turns out, has more to do with physics than biology. It's the study of the design, friction, wear and lubrication of interacting surfaces, such as the contact points of gears in an engine.
Lockwood has more than 25 years of research and development experience in the field -- with assignments in the oil, automotive and metalworking industries.
"How'd you get interested in something like that?" I asked.
She smiled again.
"I was a little odd," Lockwood said. She thought a moment. "I guess I'm still odd. But this stuff fascinates me."
"This stuff" comes down to the notion, for example, that all motor oils are not created equal. Put another way, motor oil is not as crude as you might think. It's pretty sophisticated stuff, containing numerous additives in various amounts and combinations for the essential task of keeping metal from touching metal.
Oil and other lubricants form a thin, friction-reducing layer between metal contact points. Without that layer, the points would rub. Rubbing yields friction. Friction yields heat. Too much friction in heat yields warped metal and catastrophic mechanical breakdowns.
Lockwood and her team of scientists and chemists spend most of their working lives here at Valvoline's New Product Development Laboratory trying to figure out how to keep friction-generated mechanical catastrophe at bay. They study old cars and junked engines and transmissions. They look at new vehicles, of course. But, more often than not, they will use their own family mobiles to test a new lubricant, wax or polish.
"We'll put out a company bulletin asking everybody with a certain kind of Volvo to bring their cars in, or a General Motors product, or a Toyota," Lockwood said. Compliance is voluntary. "But nearly everybody with the kind of vehicle we're looking for at the moment brings it in," she said.
I wanted to see firsthand what goes into making a 10W-30 motor oil, a standard engine lubricant for cars and trucks. Lockwood's people allowed me to be a tribologist for a day. I made a super-batch -- heavy on seal conditioners to protect valve seals, heavy on detergents to help keep the engine clean, heavy on antioxidants to help reduce engine deposits and oil breakdown, heavy on friction modifiers to help reduce engine friction and boost horsepower. Whoa! Warren's Super Slick looked like great stuff.
But Dan Dotson, the man in charge of the research lab, was not impressed. Additives cost money. The more a company puts in, the more it has to spend.
Valvoline, in the lubricant business for 140 years, has a racing-born reputation for exceeding customers' expectations. But Dotson assured me that the overloaded additives in Warren's Super Slick could grease the skids for corporate bankruptcy.
"What you put together is so expensive, no one would make it because no consumer could afford to buy it," Dotson said. In short, my mix left the company no chance for recouping its investment, which is not exactly the best way to run a business.
But what else can you expect from a guy who did not know the meaning of tribology?
The slippery science of motor oil and its additives even has its own name: Tribology
Warren Brown / The Washington Post
LEXINGTON, Ky. -- Frances Lockwood is in charge of product development for the Valvoline division of Ashland Inc., headquartered here. That makes her a rarity.
Valvoline makes motor oils, grease and other lubricants that keep the gears and wheels turning on the male-dominated tracks of auto and motorcycle racing. It also makes Eagle One and Car Brite automotive appearance and restoration products, Zerex antifreeze, Pyroil automotive chemicals and several other liquid maintenance items popular in the world of cars and trucks.
Lockwood, the second woman ever to earn a doctorate in chemical engineering from Penn State University, had a hand in developing most of those products.
She's a tribologist. Tribology is a slippery business. And Lockwood, internationally recognized for her work, has an uncanny knack for greasing the gears.
"I didn't know biology had anything to do with lubricating cars," I said, opening my mouth before fully grasping the meaning of her academic discipline.
Lockwood smiled.
"It's 'tribology,' " she said.
"Oh," I said, thinking she was referring to a biology course that could be studied three ways. Tribology, it turns out, has more to do with physics than biology. It's the study of the design, friction, wear and lubrication of interacting surfaces, such as the contact points of gears in an engine.
Lockwood has more than 25 years of research and development experience in the field -- with assignments in the oil, automotive and metalworking industries.
"How'd you get interested in something like that?" I asked.
She smiled again.
"I was a little odd," Lockwood said. She thought a moment. "I guess I'm still odd. But this stuff fascinates me."
"This stuff" comes down to the notion, for example, that all motor oils are not created equal. Put another way, motor oil is not as crude as you might think. It's pretty sophisticated stuff, containing numerous additives in various amounts and combinations for the essential task of keeping metal from touching metal.
Oil and other lubricants form a thin, friction-reducing layer between metal contact points. Without that layer, the points would rub. Rubbing yields friction. Friction yields heat. Too much friction in heat yields warped metal and catastrophic mechanical breakdowns.
Lockwood and her team of scientists and chemists spend most of their working lives here at Valvoline's New Product Development Laboratory trying to figure out how to keep friction-generated mechanical catastrophe at bay. They study old cars and junked engines and transmissions. They look at new vehicles, of course. But, more often than not, they will use their own family mobiles to test a new lubricant, wax or polish.
"We'll put out a company bulletin asking everybody with a certain kind of Volvo to bring their cars in, or a General Motors product, or a Toyota," Lockwood said. Compliance is voluntary. "But nearly everybody with the kind of vehicle we're looking for at the moment brings it in," she said.
I wanted to see firsthand what goes into making a 10W-30 motor oil, a standard engine lubricant for cars and trucks. Lockwood's people allowed me to be a tribologist for a day. I made a super-batch -- heavy on seal conditioners to protect valve seals, heavy on detergents to help keep the engine clean, heavy on antioxidants to help reduce engine deposits and oil breakdown, heavy on friction modifiers to help reduce engine friction and boost horsepower. Whoa! Warren's Super Slick looked like great stuff.
But Dan Dotson, the man in charge of the research lab, was not impressed. Additives cost money. The more a company puts in, the more it has to spend.
Valvoline, in the lubricant business for 140 years, has a racing-born reputation for exceeding customers' expectations. But Dotson assured me that the overloaded additives in Warren's Super Slick could grease the skids for corporate bankruptcy.
"What you put together is so expensive, no one would make it because no consumer could afford to buy it," Dotson said. In short, my mix left the company no chance for recouping its investment, which is not exactly the best way to run a business.
But what else can you expect from a guy who did not know the meaning of tribology?
