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Meet the Dummies

An In-depth Profile of IIHS Test Subjects

By Dave Willis

IN magazine recently had an opportunity to talk with a crash-test dummy employed by the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety, an independent, nonprofit, scientific, and educational organization dedicated to reducing the losses – deaths, injuries, and property damage – from crashes on the nation’s highways.

The crash-test dummy was a bit reluctant to speak. He finds interviews traumatic, which is somewhat ironic given what he goes through every week at work. So he asked Marvin Hatchett, IIHS dummy calibration lab manager, to help guide his answers. Hatchett, who has an electromechanical background and holds a computer technology degree, has been with the Institute – working on crash tests – for more than 10 years.

Following is a question and answer session with the dummy – one of the dummies, actually – from the IIHS Vehicle Research Center near Charlottesville, Virginia.

Please tell me about yourself.

Well, I’m a purely mechanical device sporting some sophisticated electronics. The electronics include a number of sensors or transducers, along with the computer that stores the actual data and tells what happened in the crash test. Mechanically, I’m basically made of steel, aluminum, and rubber, with body parts similar to a human. My feet rotate at my ankles. My tibias rotate at the knees and ankles, and my femurs rotate at the hip and knees. My spine actually moves, as do my arms, elbows, hands, and neck. I’ve been designed to move pretty much like a human.

You’re no little dummy. Just how big are you?

I’m designed as what’s called a 95th-percentile male, which means I’m bigger than 95 out of 100 guys. That puts me at about 6’2” and 220 or so pounds, give or take a few.

I see you’re not alone. Who’s here with you?

We have a whole group here, called Hybrid III dummies, ranging from the Crabi kids to myself. There are two fifth-percentile females. They’re five feet tall and, well, they’ll kill me if I tell you how much they weigh. Let’s just say it’s between 108 and 110 pounds. We also have Sid-IIs, our side-impact dummy. We just call him Sid because we can’t pronounce “IIs.” And over there are the quadruplets – four average (50th-percentile) adult males. We have two dummies just for rear-impact tests. And we also have a bunch of cousins who work for different automakers and the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

Crabi kids?

Yes, there are two little ones sized like a six-month old and a one-year old. They’re too young to realize they share the same name. I guess we’ll need to explain it to them sometime, but no use wasting our efforts just yet. The name actually comes from the initials for Child Restraint Air Bag Interaction dummies. There are two other kids – a three-year old and six-year old – but they’re not Crabi, at least not in name, anyway.

Are you all the same?

No. We’re designed for the work we do. Some of us specialize in frontal tests, others in side-impact tests, and others still in rear-impact tests.

Can you give me an example of the differences?

The spine does not move in dummies designed for frontal tests. Those of us designed for rear-impact tests on the other hand have an articulating spine, which is made up of several segments, much like a human’s.

What else?

Well, the electronics differ, as well. Each of us is made up not only of mechanical parts, but sensors, too, pretty much from head to toe. These sensors, or transducers, help the IIHS technicians – Marvin and his crew – document the effects of crashes. One set of sensors measures the accelerations received in various parts of our bodies. Another set looks at forces in different regions. The last type looks at displacement.

Can you explain those three things?

Acceleration is basically the change in speed or change in motion we experience when we go through a crash. Let’s say my head is at rest, but there’s energy that caused it to move. They measure how fast it moved, and they measure the amount of force that caused it to move. The other is the actual deflection, for instance, how much the chest deflects. If you put pressure on your chest, it moves backward toward the spine. They measure how much, in centimeters or millimeters. There are actually two places where deflection or displacement is measured – in the knees and in the chest.

So you said the electronics differ by dummy. How so?

For the frontal test, there are fewer sensors – somewhere in the mid-20s or so – than for the side-impact test, which has 32. The rear test actually uses a few less sensors than the others. How the sensors actually operate differs, too, depending on the dummy. For frontal tests, we’re designed to receive the energy from the front. The side-impact dummy is reoriented so the instrumentation receives the energy from the side. Take our ribs, for example. They’re designed to compress from the side rather than the front, and all of the instrumentation for those ribs is designed to measure accurately in that direction. In rear-impact tests, we’re designed to receive that energy from the rear. The sensors read how seats protect us and our articulating spines against neck injuries.

You talk about all of these electronics and instrumentation. How does that translate into data the folks at IIHS can actually use?

All of the sensors or transducers are connected to a computer, which records the readings from the various sensors. In the frontal- and rear-impact dummies, the computer is actually inside of us, protected from damage. For Sid, our side-impact dummy, the computer is housed on a shelf, and connected by external wires. It’s a little messy, but that’s Sid.

So do you travel together or solo?

Well, we’ve never filled a minivan, if that’s what you’re asking. For most of our tests, there’s only one of us – in the driver’s seat. For side-impact tests, we have a passenger riding shot-gun. For rear impact, we don’t crash an actual car. It’s just the seat, mounted to a frame.

Speaking of cars, how do you get them?

Just like you do. We buy them off the lot. Well, we don’t go out ourselves. People from IIHS do. They want to make sure that the autos they test are no different than what a human might buy. They bring the autos into the lab here in Virginia, inspect them and drain some of the fluids. That cuts the chance of explosion. They say they wouldn’t want to hurt us. Yeah, right. That said, they don’t put us through tests in any vehicle unless they know the manufacturer has already tested the particular model.

So could you describe a typical work day?

Well, I’m not sure that being smashed into a barrier at 40-miles per hour is anyone’s idea of typical, but I know what you mean. First, all of our crash tests are done indoors in a controlled atmosphere with consistent temperature and humidity.

Leading up to each crash test, a lot of work needs to be done, and it takes several days. We don’t just show up, Starbucks double-tall non-fat extra-dry cappuccino in hand, and hop in the car. A lot of preparation goes into each test. Marvin and his crew actually run some tests on my body parts, and then they put me together. That’s usually several days before a crash. Then they calibrate me and all of my sensors to make sure the data they gather will be accurate. They don’t want me to go through all that pain for nothing, which is a huge relief.

After that’s all done, they carefully position me or one of the others in the designated spot in the car. That’s a rather complicated process, probably designed by an engineer. They have to measure exactly where I sit, make sure my arms and legs and feet are set properly, and measure, measure, measure. They record all the measurements, of course. Then they check all of the electronics again to make sure everything is still working. That whole process takes a few days, actually. Just putting me in the car and recording all the measurements takes several hours alone.

It kind of reminds me of preparing Thanksgiving dinner – days of work leading up to an event that’s over relatively quickly. For us, every day we survive a crash is Thanksgiving. The difference between tests and dinner is that the tests go a lot faster than eating turkey and fixings. It’s all done in 450 milliseconds, which is less time than it takes to say “450 milliseconds.” I have to be honest here though. We probably recover much faster following the crashes than it would take the average American to digest and recover from the big feast.

So that means you only have to go through this once a week, at most?

Technically, yes. But with more than one dummy, it’s possible for the testers to conduct two or three a week. It probably averages out to around two a week overall.

How many people – humans, that is – work in the facility?

There are more than 30, at least that I’m aware of. There are five engineers, 10 technicians, and then a dozen or more support staff. I think there’s a guy who cleans up after each crash. But don’t quote me on that. My post-test recollections are sometimes a bit fuzzy, for obvious reasons.

Do the engineers and technicians ever get called on by outside groups?

Yes, sometimes they are asked to go to automaker facilities to make sure they understand proper testing procedures and to help them prepare their dummies – our cousins – for testing.

Do you ever have visitors?

Not very often. Occasionally someone from an insurance company will come through the facility and observe. But for the most part, we stay to ourselves.

This is kind of a sensitive question, but do dummies ever die?

We don’t die, no. But from time to time, some dummies retire – and they’ve earned it. More often, what happens is we’re upgraded. Every part of us is replaceable. That means we can live on indefinitely. We like to think that’s because Marvin and the rest of the people really like us. We understand there may be other motivations, though. Did you know, for instance, that our shell – the mechanics – cost nearly $40,000? Add to that the electronics, and we top out at around $170,000. But we still believe we’re kept alive out of love.

Is there anything new in your life?

Well, a lot more people are seeing us in action these days.

How so?

The Internet. You know, the thing the former vice president from Tennessee created. There are all kinds of videos of us online, at something called YouTube.com. They’re quite popular, too. Hopefully, people will view them and recognize just how bad traffic accidents can be, and maybe they’ll drive more safely.

One final question: What do you think of the Canadian band that bears your name?

Don’t get me started.

What do you mean? You don’t like them?

No, it’s not that. I mean, I’ve never heard them. You see, I don’t have any fingers. Have you ever tried to operate a car radio without fingers? Marvin says I shouldn’t be distracted when I drive anyway.

You do know some cars now come equipped with voice-activated radio controls, don’t you?

Marvin, why didn’t you tell me about that?

Sorry, guys, if I caused any trouble. Thanks for taking time to speak with me today. You’ve been very helpful.

You, too. You did a bang-up job. And coming from me, that means a lot.

Dave Willis is a New Hampshire-based freelance writer.

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