What if I told you there was a reliable, inexpensive, non-polluting gas created from water that could provide a safe and efficient replacement for fossil fuels? And what if I told you this technology was immediately available and, with little modification, could be used in the internal combustion engines we drive today?
Admit it: You're skeptical, at best. If this were a viable alternative fuel source, you would have heard about it already. Right?
After nearly two decades, Largo inventor William H. Richardson is used to being doubted.
"I've been called a magician and a crackpot," says Richardson, the research and development director for Definitive Energy LLC and the original patent owner of a seemingly simple process for turning water into fuel. "There is so much opposition to it."
Richardson calls this alternative energy source Aqualene and claims that the gas created from separating water molecules is better for the environment than any biofuel and less costly than hydrogen fuel-cell technology. For the last 15 years, he has championed Aqualene to NASA, the U.S. government and corporations small and large — with no success.
Now, a little dejected, Richardson looks to other uses for his patented gas, from powering a more effective cutting torch to purifying water in third world countries. Aqualene, he says, can even cook a mean steak.
The would-be fuel of the future isn't created in some top-secret lab protected by security codes and surveillance cameras, but in a small warehouse space off Starkey Road in Largo. Richardson, a machinist by trade, makes tools in this space to bring in his regular income, while he works with the other members of Definitive Energy LLC to market Aqualene (formerly called Aquafuel until another company purchased the rights to that name). With the understated zeal of Al Gore, Richardson laments the state of the environment and how unrenewable carbon sources — in forms of coal, oil and natural gas — are contributing to the problems of global warming and pollution. But with Aqualene, Richardson claims, the only byproducts are water and a small amount of carbon dioxide, which can be recycled by plant life.
"The planet takes care of itself," he says. "It's when we get in the way and start to abuse areas that we have problems."
Anxious to demonstrate, Richardson leads me to a glass bowl full of water sitting on a shop table and attaches two insulated clamps, connected by three 12-volt batteries, to a graphite rod. When he lowers the rod into the water, it produces a bright white light — the "electric arc" — furiously sending bubbles to the surface. Richardson places a funnel over the bubbles and ignites the gas spewing out of the narrow end, producing a solid orange flame. That gas — a combination of oxygen, hydrogen and carbon — is Aqualene. He claims 100 volts can produce 1,000 cubic feet of Aqualene per hour.
Richardson reaches over for a balloon, fills it from a pressurized tank full of Aqualene and watches it float to the ceiling.
"The gas will dissipate and fly out of the atmosphere," he says, filling another balloon and taking out a lighter. "And it's combustible."
The explosion warms my face; Richardson burns the hair off his hand.
Richardson says Aqualene could replace other combustible gases like acetylene and propane, both of which are less effective and produce more pollution.
Richardson then directs my attention to a lawnmower engine mounted on a table with a tube connected to the tank of Aqualene. He pulls on the lawnmower cord and the engine starts. There's no smell of gasoline (or any other fuel) nor is there any kind of visible smoke or exhaust.
"This engine is just like every other engine on the planet, except it runs on water," he says proudly. "They call it the engine that could."
Later, Richardson shows me home videos of him driving a Ford Escort and Mustang that he says are running off Aqualene. Both cars appear to operate like any gasoline-powered car; in one clip, Richardson peels out in his parking lot with the Mustang, later claiming he's reached 110 miles per hour in the modified roadster. The only design problem, he says, is that Aqualene's water byproduct could easily rust the tailpipe.
Sound crazy?
"So what, we're doing it," Richardson snaps back.
Still, not everyone is quick to accept his claims.
Dr. Mike Zaworotko, chair of the chemistry department at the University of South Florida-Tampa, is quick to point out he does not know William Richardson and has never heard of Aqualene. He admits he's no expert in the electrolysis of water. But still, he's skeptical — Zaworotko says USF's chemistry department hears similar claims by various groups every few years.
"They portray [water-based fuels] as the answer [to environmental woes]," he says. "It's an attractive proposition to a lot of people. It's easy to sell 'We're above everybody else and everyone is against us.'"
Zaworotko says the basic idea behind Aqualene has been around for generations, but not much is known on how effective it is as a fuel source. He cautions that other inventors who have made similar claims forget a basic rule of physics: "It is physically impossible to get more energy than you put in."
With Aqualene, the electricity used to separate the hydrogen and oxygen molecules — itself created through fossil fuels — may use more energy than is recoverable from the produced gas.
Richardson has heard this all before.
"Fundamentally, [many chemists and engineers] don't understand it," he says. "We're manufacturing a product that is above the normal chemistry findings."
And, perhaps to his detriment, he quotes a line from Star Trek: "It's chemistry, Jim, but not as you know it."
The opposition to Aqualene as a fuel source has led Richardson to other ventures and eight other patents. His latest is Aquaclean, a device using the heating properties of Aqualene to turn cloudy, polluted water (or salt water) into pure distilled water.
"Presently we're working with some missionary groups out of Africa," he shares. "They're trying to drill holes for clean water, but it's expensive and it's hard to prove you're going to get clean water. But most villages have a source of water — it's just not usually fit [to drink]. If they run it through this unit, it would be cheaper than drilling a hole in the ground and they would have an accurate supply of clean, drinkable water."
The prototype of his latest invention — made from all manner of tubes, steel pots and metal piping — looks like something out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. He claims 10 gallons can be produced an hour; the scalability, unlimited.
"This is probably going to be a good market in the future," he says. "Some day, in this country, we're going to need a cleaner source of water."
For the moment, Richardson is more interested in pursuing the water-cleaning apparatus than in trying to convince skeptics of the feasibility of using his alternative fuel to power vehicles (although his colleagues at Definitive Energy LLC have not given up). He remains doubtful a small startup company can beat the government and oil money.
"That's why I'm going after water," he says. "You don't have to put up with all that political nonsense."
With that, he pulls out a letter from ExxonMobil and chuckles.
"We have no interest in …" the letter begins.
This article appears in May 23-29, 2007.