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Jan Krieg,
alias Dr. Technology, alias
Eco-Man, tinkers with the engine
of
an electric car in the garage of his
Palo Alto home.
Evidence of his
handiwork is apparent
throughout the house. |
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Krieg airborne in his persona as Eco-man.
Twenty
years ago, he skied in Tahoe as the
ecological do-gooder.
Today, his Eco-man
costume still fits him. |
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Jan Krieg holds a bronze tusk he
made for Tava
the elephant. He has
a signed photograph on his wall from
Tava thanking him for the tusk.
Krieg scrounged the bronze
for the
tusk from discarded sprinkler heads. |
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Krieg
holds up a model of a tiger fang.
He has made fangs for
big cats, teeth for
monkeys, and tusks for elephants. |
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| Krieg pieces together the body of a future electric car
in his driveway. |
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| Tinker,
Maker, Jester, Sage |
by Diane Sussman
photographs by Renee Fadiman
In his first incarnation
as a persona, Jan Krieg skied down Tahoe mountains in black
tights, yellow trunks, a gas mask-type contraption and a
yellow cape emblazoned with the ecology symbol. “I was Eco-man,”
he said. He skied directly into a generational rift
of misunderstanding. "The kids all knew I was Eco-man. The
mothers all said Zorro. Imagine that," he said, snorting
in indignation. "Zorro." That was 20 years ago. He hasn't mellowed
with age. Now the wiry-haired Palo Alto inventor no
longer wears the Batman style get up, at least not in public.
Instead, Krieg tools around in a homemade, three-wheeled
aluminum mini-car with the name of his new persona - Dr.
Technology - stenciled across the sides. Like Eco-man, Krieg's latest persona seeks
to do battle with the forces of evil, in this case, gas-guzzling
behemoths that spew their destructive emissions into the
air and the solitary drivers who blithely drive them. Call
it better living through technology - quirky technology.
"I wanted people to realize you can get around town without
a BMW," he said. The tiny car - part Honda scooter, part go-cart,
part aluminum sheets salvaged from the junkyards - weighs
500 pounds and gets 100 miles to the gallon. Flashier than
a bicycle, less intimidating than a motorcycle and more
sheltered than a scooter, the point-nosed car draws small
crowds of people who poke and prod its parts to determine
its construction.
“People don't come up to me and ask
me, Are you a weirdo? But they might want to.” - Jan Krieg
Alas, road society doesn't seem ready to
accept the ecologically sound vehicle. "It's like riding
a bicycle. You go around with the assumption that you are
invisible," said Krieg. "But someone has to be willing to
put his life on the line to show people that we don't need
to have 4,000-pound cars per person."So how, one wonders, does Krieg justify the
GMC truck in his driveway? "That's different," he says.
"That's 5,000 pounds." Unlike Somerset Maugham's quip that home is
the place he could take off his personas, Krieg's home is
the place where his personas take off. With a house and
garage full of curious and wonderful projects of his own
invention, Krieg recalls Wemmick, the circa-1861 techno-twit
from Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations." Wemmick's tiny cottage on the outskirts of
London had a moat with a drawbridge, a painted rooftop battery
with mounted guns, an ornamental lake for cooling drinks
and a tarpaulin umbrella to protect it from the elements.
"I am my own engineer, and my own carpenter, and my own
plumber, and my own gardener, and my own Jack of all Trades,"
said Wemmick. The same could be said of Krieg. Although
he has no moat or mounted guns, Krieg's Palo Alto house,
which was turquoise and had a red lava roof when he bought
it six years ago, is chock-a-block with the fruits of Krieg's
imagination and ingenuity. Granted, some of the fruits are
a bit bungled or misshapen. In the bedroom, there is a whimsical metal
bed with intertwined hearts, a Valentine's Day gift for
his wife. The garage has everything from a sculpted plastic
head to a unicycle-powered buggy he made his sons for the
May Fete Parade to a mobile homeless shelter that can be
moved from neighborhood to neighborhood. "That way no one
neighborhood will feel left out," he said. A stuffed deer head above the fireplace suggests
Krieg has killer instincts. Not so, he counters. With one
bull mastiff, two corgis, a car, a 30-year history of vegetarianism
and an aversion to war, Krieg doesn't even like the idea
of squishing bugs. "I could never kill anything," he said.
"I got that at a garage sale. I mean, how could I resist?" Krieg's Lake Tahoe house, the first house
he built, used a diving bell for a fireplace and a submarine
door leading to the bathroom. Krieg is a familiar figure in downtown Palo
Alto, either atop his balloon-tire bicycle, the coils of
his wild hair trailing off in every direction, or hanging
out in cafes, where he estimates he wastes 60 percent of
his time "drawing and dreaming." Those who have seen Krieg drawing and dreaming
might presume he is a man of leisure, or as he suspects,
a kook. "People don't come up to me and ask me, Are you
a weirdo?" he said. "But they might want to." But speculators can relax. Krieg does work,
and he's not a kook. He is a dental technician, now semi-retired.
"Really, I'm not that weird. I used to look like everyone
else. For 25 years I put on a tie and went over to work
on Welch Road." These days, Krieg works in a compact shop
off his garage. Although he began his career like all dental
technicians, by making crowns and bridgework for people,
he now makes oral wear for lions and tigers and bears. And
monkeys and elephants and pumas. His creations include a partial tusk for Tava
the elephant from Marine World, two gold fangs for Jack
the tiger from the San Francisco Zoo and four gold front
fangs for Buster the jaguar from San Francisco Zoo. He works
with local dentists Paul Brown and Bob Turner, who have
achieved minor celebrity as dentists to local animal stars. He's had no complaints from customers. On
one wall in his office, he has a signed picture from Tava
the elephant and another of Jack the tiger. In the tiger
photo, Krieg's head is half inside Jack's mouth. The scene
mirrored the one taking place under Krieg's feet - Krieg's
mastiff had all but swallowed the head of one of his corgis. The job has its hazards, like the time Krieg
and a lightly anesthetized tiger were having an intimate
tete-a-tete and the tiger woke up. Five people had to pull
the tiger's paw back from Krieg with a rope. Another time
a tiger bit a hole through a stainless steel bucket. "He
bit through it like it was a paper bag," he said.These days, Krieg only does dental work two
days a week. The rest of the time he "doodles, dreams" and
makes things. He never drafts plans or makes elaborate sketches.
"I'll do prototypes. If they don't work, I trash them. I
built this in two weeks," he said, pointing to his minicar.
"It might have taken months doodling around on a drafting
table." “My wife is always screaming at me,
'You've got to stop.” - Jan Krieg
All his projects are funded with "pocket
change." Sparing every expense, he scrounges materials from
junkyards, the streets, garage sales and freebies ads in
newspapers. To make a clock that looks like bundled sticks
of dynamite - "to show deadline pressure" - he picked up
red road flares, and as a figure to sit in an electric chair,
his protest against the death penalty, he used an old dental
mannequin. A Texas native for three months, Krieg grew
up in Mountain View and graduated from Mountain View High
"with a degree in advanced switchblade." He went to Foothill
College for a few years, but found academia stifling. "I
think too much schooling keeps the vein of really good ideas
from flowing," he said. "There must be a better way to educate
people." In 1964 he spent a summer in a dental laboratory
in Palo Alto and stayed as an apprentice. At one point Krieg
worked under Ptah, Palo Alto's most well-known dental technician.
The barefoot technician, who twice ran for City Council,
believes himself to be an Egyptian deity reincarnated. "Mostly
I ran errands for Ptah," said Krieg. Krieg lives in his house-cum-workshop with
his wife Diana and his sons, Ian, 11, Max, 9. Although the
family fits snugly into the 1,200 square-foot cottage, Krieg's
projects are advancing ever more slowly toward the house.
Soon, he realized, he will have to find a warehouse to keep
his stuff - and the peace. "My wife is always screaming
at me, 'You've got to stop,'" he said. But getting Krieg to stop hatching ideas and
projects is about as likely as getting crabs to walk only
in straight line. "I have hundreds of projects I want to
do," he said. As well as a few projects he doesn't want
to do, like painting the wood trim in his house. "I need
to do it," he said. "I will. I will do it," he added, his
conviction growing with each repetition. “Someday.”
– END |
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Tiny “Pterodactyl” gets 100 miles ot the
gallon, and not one ticket. |
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| article 2 |
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| Wild W E S T |
| Parking No Problem |
By Tracie Cone
Tiny purple car finds space
all over Palo Alto |
Jan Krieg calls himself Dr. Technology, but he is neither a doctor nor a toiler in one of Silicon Valley's many high-tech enterprises. What he has scientifically figured out, however, could be more useful to humanity than curing disease or designing a faster chip, especially in his hometown of Palo Alto, a city with approximately 10 times more trendy home accessory stores than parking spaces.
Proving that necessity is, indeed, the parental unit of invention, Dr. Technology has built a smaller, more easily parked vehicle, and the world is beating a path to his tiny door, which is painted with his nickname in a very eye-catching pink. They're knocking mostly because they want to ask him what the heck he's tooling about town in.
Dr. T will probably tell you it's a home-made space saucer powered by cold fusion. I'm pretty sure he's lying, but these days, who can tell? Aliens, I've been told by UFO-watchers, are among us. The machine's shape does look a lot like Darth Vader's head on top of a go-cart.
Dr. T's miniature car can be seen nearly every day zipping up and down University Avenue loaded with other people's false teeth and dental bridgework. Dr. T makes these things, I should tell you, lest you mistakenly assume that a guy who believes he's driving a flying saucer would also have an unnatural desire to transport uppers, lowers and partials for no apparent reason. He uses his tiny car to deliver them from the lab to dentists' offices.
"It has solved all of my parking problems," says Dr. T, "and it doesn't consume very much energy."
All of the energy, it seems, goes into explaining what the vehicle is, especially since December when he painted it an eye-catching shade of purple. People run him down on foot, as I did, or gather around enviously to ask questions when he whips into the tiniest sliver of unoccupied asphalt to make a delivery.
He built the vehicle nine years ago when he got tired of spending half of his delivery time searching for parking. It took two weeks and several hundred dollars' worth of sheet metal and tubing. He combined parts from a Honda scooter and a go-cart.
"At first it was just plain metal, but the dog peed on it a couple of times so I had to make it look better," says Dr. T, who drives in a stylish black leather motorcycle-style jacket. "Now I think the purple color makes it more noticeable."
No, Dr. T, a 44-inch-wide vehicle that looks like one of those miniature circus clown cars would be noticeable in any color amid the Troopers, Land Rovers and other automotive giants that cruise downtown P.A., spewing fossil fuels in their exasperating search for a place to shut down.
Speaking of fossil fuels, Dr. T calls his purple car "The Pterodactyl." He doesn't call it that because the decayed bodies of pterodactyls and other prehistoric creatures are what metamorphosed into the oil we use to operate combustible engines.
"I am the founder of the Society for the Preservation of the Pterodactyl," explains Dr. T.
Aren't you a little late to save flying dinosaurs?
"Oh, they're still around."
The 350-member society is a group of Palo Alto doctors, lawyers and other business types who meet at least once a year at a black-tie gathering to "drink champagne and talk about what we'd do to save the world," Dr. T says.
What he's doing is trying to cut down on car emissions and fuel consumption. His car goes 50 mph if you don't mind a lot of vibration, and gets 100 miles to a single, 87-octane gallon of unleaded. He's driven it as far as San Jose. The optimum speed for the 15 horsepower engine is 30. The entire car is 8 feet long, 350 pounds, street-legal and license.
"My old Volvo cost me $75 a month in gas and got 20 miles to the gallon," he says. "This costs about $3."
It has no air bags, safety belts, anti-lock brakes, nor side impact door reinforcements. What kind of match would it be for a 5,000-pound opponent?
"Everything is relative," says Dr. T. "A car offers no protection from a train. If everyone was driving a car this size, we'd all be OK."
The only remaining question is this all-important one: Does it work? And we don't mean mechanically.
"I've never gotten a ticket," says Dr. T. "I've never even been stopped, and you'd think that I would have just out of curiosity."
Kevin, a tow truck driver, double-parked (because, of course, there were no parking spaces nearby) to take a look at Pterodactyl, though there would rarely be a need to tow a vehicle that can be carried practically as easily as the saucer that George Jetson folded into his briefcase.
"Only in Palo Alto," Kevin said, walking back to his big truck, " the town for artists and people with unique ideas."
It's also the town where only a Pterodactyl can find a place to park.
TRACIE CONE is a staff writer for West.
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| article 3 |
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| Palo Alto Weekly - Arts & Entertainment |
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| On The Road Again |
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by Carolyn Copeland
photographs by Veronica Weber
People take different approaches to doing their part for the environment Jan Krieg, a Palo Alto vintage car builder, uses ethanol fuel to power his 1929 Ford Roadster.
Sporting a "Rednecks for Obama" bumper sticker above the license plate, the red and green rusted car rests in Krieg's shop in Palo Alto. The car is a two-seater convertible with metal seats, giant headlights, and hood that needs to be unscrewed in order to open it. Krieg started building his car three years ago after spending tow years searching for the parts. " I use ethanol fuel because its about 80 percent cleaner than gasoline and provides more horsepower," said Krieg, who works on cars as a hobby. "I'm also an environmenatal nut. I want to alert people about global warming. Like they say, If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." Hopefully this car will reach the people that are part of the problem."
Plenty of people will see the Ford Roadster on July 25, when Krieg plans to display it at the Vintage Vehicles and Family Festival at El Camino ark in Palo Alto. He says he's excited to show if off at the event for the second time. Though the festival was cancelled last year due to funding issues, Krieg has entered cars in the festival several other times.
This free annual event includes live music, LEGO displays, old time radio and radio-controlled model race cars, as will as classic cars, hot rods, bicycles, motorcycles and other vehicles on display. This year, there is also a section focusing on the evolution of the Ford vehicle. The Museum of American Heritage, which organizes the event, was able to get the funding to bring the event back thanks to sponsors and underwriters, said Gwenyth Claughton, executive director of the museum.
Claughton said she expects there will be between 100 and 125 antique vehicles as well as some innovative ones. She anticipates thousands of visitors. "There's not always the same people showing at the event, so there's always something new to see," Krieg said.
Krieg just might bring another vehicle along from his shop, which is home to several other works-in progress. His vintage cars include a green 1951 Chevy pick-up truck that he is currently selling and a blue 1985 Superkart[a go kart with a powerful motor] that has never been raced. He also an aluminum motorcycle that he built in 2001 that turns heads whenever he drives it because of its resemblance to a Three-wheeled car.
Krieg says he does what he can to make his cars as environmentally friendly as possible. By using ethanol as an alternative fuel for his Roadster, he doesn't have to worry about his engine overheating. While a normal engine tends to be about 200 degrees, his car goes up to only 150, he said.
Though he enjoys building and fixing up different cars, the Roadster remains one of his favorites.
Krieg drives it about once a week and doesn't hesitate to take it long distances because it runs so well.
"The furthest I've driven it is San Francisco," he said. "But maybe this summer I;ll take it to Palo Robles."
This year, Krieg might also bring his solar scooter to Vintage Vehicles, depending on how much extra room the festival has. He's also excited about getting his son involved.
"He drove my Roadster one day and thought it was fun so he built one," he said. "he hasn't switched it to ethanol yet but he got his running about a month ago."
Though his son has painted his Ford Roadster black, Krieg plans to keep his unpainted. "I want mine to look like a work in progress," he said. "I like things that aren't finished."
Krieg ;lans to do minor body modifications to his Roadster and upgrade the motor. He also wants to make his aluminum motorcycle either a hybrid of all-electric in order to mike it more environmentally friendly.
Krieg built his first go kart when he was 20 years old and got interested in building cars when he was a teenager. He even made a bicycle out of scrap metal from aluminum motorcycle. Nest to it, he attached a sidecar for his dog to ride in. Although he taught himself how to build cars, he admits he's still learning.
"There are guys way better than me who I like to talk to," he said." The guys that do it for a living are really good."
While it may be just a hobby for Krieg, he is used to getting attention for his work. Often times he catches people taking pictures of his car.
"I'll be inside the coffee shop and I'll just watch people stand there and take pictures," he said. – END |
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| A detail from Jan Krieg's 1929 Ford Roadster. |
| Krieg sits in the Roadster in his Palo Alto garage. |
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| Jan Krieg takes the Roadster for a spin down W. Bayshore Road in Palo Alto. |
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| This high speed commuter-car prototype was built by Jan Krieg out of aluminum. |
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