Читать книгу The Dryline - Jack Grubbs - Страница 18

Nine

Thursday Afternoon,
New Year’s Eve

Broken Wing Ranch

Abundant sunlight filled Tom Seiler’s office at the ranch. Tom and Don sat at the large drafting table. Tom slid a yellow pad of paper toward Don. The top four pages held a collage of handwritten notes and sketches.

“Let me get down to specifics. What you have right now is a system consisting of two side-by-side cylindrical tubes placed vertically in each stripper well. On average, let’s say they go down twenty-five hundred feet. Your prototype is workable in basic theory but not in a mass production application. It fails too often.” He looked at Don.

“You mean the constant folding of the small pipes inside the well?”

“Yeah. That and your sensor. Let’s start with that since it doesn’t take any drawings to explain my thoughts. What you show is a sensing device that measures volume. The problem is that it is installed inside the chamber at the bottom of the well. When it works, great. But every time one of your sensors fails, you have to pull out the entire line and replace it. I say control the cycles using a computer-driven timer at the compressor above ground. Each time you blow out a slug of oil, you can measure its volume using a simple bobber device. If the slug volume is less than the chamber volume, the computer program adjusts the timer to take a little longer. If, on your first cycle, the slug has the same volume as the chamber, then the time is shortened slightly. Eventually, the timing will be virtually exact for removing oil at an optimum rate. It’s a simple iterative algorithm. Blow a slug, measure the amount, adjust the timer.” Tom looked up at his brother.

Don shook his head and smiled. “This is almost too simple.” He added, “So simple that no one else has thought of it.” His grin broadened. “OK, now for my major problem. What delicious solution do you have?”

“Look at this.” Tom directed his attention back to his sketches.

The rudimentary sketch was a top view of the well casing and JETS. It was a simple rendition of concentric circles.

Tom continued, “The outside cylinder is the existing stripper well steel casing. The sections are joined with sealed connections. Well diameters from bottom to top could range from less than ten to more than twenty-four inches according to the drawings you gave me. Nothing special about it.” He moved his finger to a second steel cylinder, drawn inside the first. It had an outside diameter slightly less than five inches. “This represents the steel tubing down through which your system blew air from the compressor. To keep it from folding inside the casing, we’ll use structural connectors to center and stabilize the tube within the well casing.”

Don responded, “I’m with you. Keep going.”

“Finally, this small cylinder is the product line tube.” The smallest of the three cylinders had a diameter of approximately two inches. “Again, we’ll have a structural connection system to keep the product line set dead in the middle of the system. With both inside tubes unable to move and buckle, the system will be structurally stable.”

Tom turned to the second page of sketches while finishing his explanation of the system. “It’s no different in concept than what you have. The only difference is in structural stability.” He gave a wry smile and continued. “Mine is better. Air goes down the void between the product line cylinder and the gas injection cylinder. In doing so the gas forces the ball valve shut, and the oil slug is forced up the inside of the product line cylinder to the holding tank. Slick as a whistle.

“Now, my concept of the chamber isn’t much different from yours—only what I’ve shown you where my connected concentric cylinders replace your side-by-side lines.” Tom sat erect on his drafting stool, appearing satisfied that he had made his case. He leaned forward again and removed the top sketch. “Here’s what I’ve drawn so far on the full system.”

From the mule shoe at the bottom, through the ball valve, pump chamber, seating nipple, and steel casing, and finally back to the wellhead assembly, compressor, and timer at the surface of the JETS, Tom described his recommended modifications to improve the efficiency and economics of the system.

Don, his head propped in his right hand, leaned in as close as possible to the drawing sheet. “Yeah. Yeah. Everything makes sense.” He paused briefly, lifting his head and rubbing the stubble on his chin. A fleeting grin preceded a pensive, almost sad, frown. “I’ve got to suck it up and find the money to make the modifications. Elam and I each have more than three hundred thousand into this thing. We need some venture capital.”

Just as Tom started to comment, Don cut him off. “I refuse to take anything from you. So forget it before you think it.”

“Damn. A little edgy on the finances, aren’t you?” Tom respected Don’s position and knew that he meant it.

Still, Tom decided to deal himself in. “But OK. You two find some money. Still, if you want, I can buy into all this with services. I can make your design sing on the computer. Not only can I modify your design, I can analyze anything about it. If you make a fortune on this, give me 3 percent of your net profit.” Tom rose from the chair, still speaking. “Or, what the hell, give me a flat fee. You name the price. Also, rather than bringing in others to own it, consider going to a bank. They’ll jump on it.” Tom stood up. “Hang on.”

Tom walked to the refrigerator and grabbed two beers. “Here.” Tom popped the tops of both cans and gave one to Don. “You and Elam decide how to do it, but I’m in one way or the other. Deal?”

Don’s irrepressible grin painted his face. “Deal.”

They clicked their cans and swallowed heartily.

“Here’s to a Happy New Year.”