Which failure arrives first — page 21
The row that is pushed as often as it is pulled
A row of leaning screws in a shear wall is loaded one way by the wind and then the other, and a screw that leans is pulled along its axis one way and pushed the other. Pulled, its axial force clamps the joint and friction helps it; pushed, it prises the joint open and the friction goes. So the row has a weaker side, and under a reversing load it settles exactly as it settles under a repeated one — the reversal does not start the ratchet again — but at a ceiling the pushed side sets, 0.79 of the pulled peak against 0.97. And it settles with a gap in the middle that every reversal crosses carrying nothing.
The weight that lands somewhere else
A beam that yields under a falling weight takes a permanent set from every drop, and if the weight always lands in the same place the set grows by the same amount every time. Let the weight land somewhere different each time — rocks on a canopy, crates on a deck — and the set still grows: the weight's energy fixes how much plastic work every drop does, wherever it lands. What the landing point decides is where the work goes. Half of every drop's hinge rotation goes under the weight and half to the supports, so wandering drops spread the first half along the span and leave the second half where it always was: the worst hinge turns half as fast, and it is at a support.
The release the rope cannot slow
A crane whose counterweight knows the payload balances only a third of it, because a payload can be let go and the crane is then thrown backwards by whatever the counterweight was holding, and half as much again in the rebound. Slow the release and the rebound goes, so the hope was that a device on the rope could slow it. Nothing on the rope can: the rope holds only what the hook holds. How fast a load goes belongs to the payload, and what the crane owns is how fast it answers — its period and its damping. And with no rebound at all, the counterweight still should not balance more than 0.6 of the payload, because the payload's own moment is still let go.
The joint stronger than its beam
A full-strength joint never reaches its own resistance: the beam beside it hinges first. But an end plate softens from two thirds of its resistance, and a joint only a little stronger than its beam is already on the soft part of its curve before the beam yields. The softening sheds moment from the beam's end into its span, so it delays the first hinge — by 8 per cent for a joint at 1.2 times the beam's strength, 18 for one at exactly the beam's, and not at all from 1.5 on. It never moves the collapse. And too much shedding hands the first hinge to the span, so the first hinge comes latest at the stiffness where the end and the span yield together.
The floor that cannot keep up with the column
A column whose hinges ratchet under an earthquake shortens every cycle, and in a frame it does not shorten alone: the floors it carries bend down towards it and lift its load onto the columns beside it. That ought to slow it and speed them, until every column shortens together. It does — over hundreds of cycles. Over the ten or twenty of an earthquake, the floors of a six-storey frame lift an eighth of the load off the interior column, it shortens nine tenths as far as it would alone, and the floors carry the whole difference as bending. The frame equalises its columns eventually, and pays for it in its floors.
The flange bent hardest where it curls least
A curved I-beam's flange curls towards its web and is bent across its own width at the root, by a stress that rises with the curling parameter λ. A portal knee's flange is cut from plate and usually tapers, and a taper changes λ along the curve. So the obvious guess is that the transverse stress peaks where λ is largest. For a flange that only narrows, or only thins, it does. Taper it both ways and the guess fails: λ is smallest at the narrow, thin end, and that is where the flange is bent hardest, because the same force is carried there on half the steel. The force the changing width hands to the web, meanwhile, is a few newtons a square millimetre.
The root that belongs to the column
A cantilever's root must hold its flanges against warping at about fifty times the cantilever's own warping stiffness to count as built in, and doubles its buckling moment if it does. A flush end plate is the usual root, so it ought to be the plate's thickness that decides. It is not. The flanges warp by turning in plan in opposite directions, the plate passes that to the column as two opposite torques, and an open column twists between them more easily than the plate bends: three quarters of the root's flexibility is the column. An ordinary root is worth about six times the cantilever's stiffness, halfway up the curve, and a thicker plate barely moves it. Boxing the column does.
The floor that twists in its own time
Seismic design standards flag a twisting floor by the ratio of its worst edge's movement to the average of its two edges', and a static push saturates that ratio. Give the floor mass and shake it, and it sways and twists in two modes that share the motion. A response-spectrum analysis then reads the same ratio from combined peaks — and gives a different verdict on a third of the plans tried. Floors torsionally stiffer than they sway read worse than a push says, because the coupled modes put twist at the edges. Floors torsionally flexible read better, because combining the modes keeps how far each edge moves and forgets which way, so a twisting floor's two edges both look large.
The wrench that reads the rust
The obvious check on a preloaded joint that has been in service for years is a wrench on the nut, and it measures the wrong thing. The nut holds against the bolt's tension times a friction bracket, and twenty years of rust raise the bracket until a bolt with half its preload passes four times in five. The washer that could have said more remembers only the day it was crushed.
The survey that arrives after the floors
A tall building's lower storeys start shortening months before its upper floors are cast, so a survey every ten floors should tell the creep the building really has and let the floors still to come be set for it. It does tell it, to a millimetre's precision, after the twenty-fifth floor. By then most of the floors whose height it was meant to correct are already set, and the floor that ends furthest from level is the one no survey can help.
Taking hold is harder than letting go
A tuned mass driven by a law that cancels its spring is safe to let go of: the transient is the same whenever the switch falls, and the passive mass takes over. Switching the law back on is the reverse operation and behaves nothing like it. The mass the spring was holding is thrown up to three times past its stroke limit, by an amount that depends on the instant, and a switch that is allowed to come back in a storm near its threshold comes back hundreds of times.
The drain that fails a season at a time
A basement held at its design head by drains and a pump can fail suddenly, when the pump stops, or slowly, when fines settle in the drains and the head under the slab creeps up while the pump keeps running. The slow failure gives a standpipe read once a year a decade of warning, in its own time constants — if it is read in the wet season. And long before the silt floats the building on its own, it has made every stop of the pump more likely to.
The front that counts for half its length
A ferritic steel's cleavage toughness depends on how much crack front it has to sample, and for a crack through a plate the front is the plate's thickness. The cracks inspections find are not through cracks; they are thumbnails at weld toes, whose curved front sees a stress intensity that varies round it. Weighted by the weakest link, the front counts for a little over half its length — so counting all of it is safe by 8 per cent, and counting none of it, as the 25 mm toughness does, is unsafe by up to a fifth for a long shallow crack.
The bore with corners and the passage beside it
A hollow shaft's bore is not always round: a hexagonal socket or a square drive turns the island in Prandtl's soap film into a polygon, and every corner of the bore is a corner of the steel that the film cannot finish. Its corners carry twice the stress of its flats. A passage drilled through the wall beside it can sit opposite a corner, where it doubles that stress again, or opposite a flat, where the bore does not notice it at all.
The floor the columns lean on
A storey of pin-ended columns, every one a little out of plumb, leans on its floor, and the floor leans on a core. Count the floor as rigid and the core needs the sum of the columns' demands. A floor that shears in its own plane is a brace in series with the core, and the far columns lean on it before their push arrives. With a floor a hundred times stiffer per bay than a column's own sway softening, the storey's buckling factor falls from 4.0 to 1.5 and the core is asked for twice as much.