Parcopresis

Parcopresis (pronounced par-kop-ruh-sys)

In mental health, a spectrum condition ranging from a marked reluctance (with associated symptoms of psychological distress) to a physical inability to defecate in situations where others will be aware of the activity.

2010s: The word was modelled on paruresis (the inability to urinate in the presence (even if visually segregated) of others), the construct being par(a)- (abnormal, defective) +‎ uresis (urination).  Parcopresis was built by substituting copro- (relating to excrement or dung), from the Ancient Greek κόπρος (kópros) (excrement) for uro- (urine; relating to urine and the urinary system), from the Ancient Greek οὖρον (oûron).  Parcopresis is a noun.  As a class, medical conditions are an exception to the conventions of the English language governing the construction of a noun plural or adjective.  There is no recognized noun plural for parcopresis because medical conditions tend to be referred to in the singular (in the way neither “diabetes” or “arthritis” has a companion noun plural) so the usual practice would be to use phrases like “cases of parcopresis” or “patients with parcopresis”.  Less controversial would be an adjectival form which, following the conventions of English, presumably would be constructed as parcopretic or parcopresic (modelled on the way “psychosis” becomes “psychotic”).  There seems however no evidence of such use and the practice by clinicians remains to use phrases like “patient(s) suffering from parcopresis” or “patient(s) experiencing parcopresis-related symptoms”.  If the condition becomes more studied and more work is published, there may be inguistic innovation.

The word has in the last decade appeared with greater frequency, use triggered apparently by an appearance in 2011 when a case report on paruresis and parcopresis was published in the Revista Brasileira de Psiquiatria (the Brazilian Journal of Psychiatry), describing parcopresis as a psychogenic condition, sometimes related to social anxiety (though distinct from the better known paruresis).  However, despite that (slight) spike which presumably is indicative of some increase in interest in psychological circles, parcopresis has not yet been classified in major diagnostic systems like the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) or the World Health Organization’s (WHO) International Classification of Diseases (ICD)) although other sources (including the National Phobics Society) do list it as a sub-type of Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD).  By contrast, the urinary counterpart (paruresis) appears in the DSM-5-TR (2022), classified as a social phobia.

In clinical use, parcopresis is known also as psychogenic fecal retention (PFR) or (more conveniently and following the clinical shorthand of paruresis being called “shy bladder”) there’s also “shy bowel” and the even better “poop shy”, defined as “the inability to defecate without a certain level of privacy (and the extent of that level varies between patients)).  It manifests thus as something ranging from a “reluctance or difficulty” associated with the symptoms of significant psychological distress (diaphoresis (excessive perspiration), tachypnoea (hyperventilation), heart palpitations, muscle tension, blushing, nausea & trembling) to actual physical inability.  Although the sample sizes are small, there are instances both of a co-morbidity with paruresis and as a stand-alone condition.  The well-understood reluctance to use public toilets related to their notoriously less than immaculate cleanliness is not an instance of parcopresis; it’s just a product of the fastidiousness in matters of hygiene which civilization has bred into populations enjoying the fruits of modernity and again, this exists on a spectrum (and, impressionistically, women exhibit higher standards than men).  Instead, the triggers for the condition are listed usually as “SSS” (sights, sounds, smells) but this refers not to the revulsion the putative pooper may feel but the fear that others may (1) be in their proximity and thus know what they’re doing, (1) hear them doing it and (3) get a whiff of the aftermath.

While toilets in shared spaces can, for some,  induce parcopresis, for others, in certain circumstances, they can provide a place of sanctuary: Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls (2004).

Parcopresis is not (yet) a medically recognized condition although the 2011 paper in the Brazilian Journal of Psychiatry did suggest it should be classified as a form of social phobia and historically there’s no requirement a syndrome being widespread to justify a classification: it needs just to have defined parameters.  The extent of the prevalence is thus less relevant than its existence although for the editors of the DSM or ICD to consider an entry would presumably be contingent upon a certain clinical utility, something which wouldn’t seem to preclude listing it among the social phobias.  As far as is known, the only studies exploring the prevalence of the condition have been those with small sample sizes conducted among university students and while obviously not representative of the broader population, all were gender-adjusted and reported between 10-20% of the study population avoided using public toilets for reasons in some way associated with parcopresis, a prevalence significantly higher in females.  By contrast, the more extensively studied paruresis is reported at a level between 2.8-16.4% of the population and is much more prevalent in males (75–92%) than females (8.1–44.6%), the usually explanation being MPSAD (male penis size anxiety disorder).

Clinicians note that although parcopresis is nominally a mental health condition, there can also be physical implications including “stools becoming lodged in the colon and the onset or exacerbation of haemorrhoids (piles).”  There’s thought to be limited scope for drug treatments beyond what anyway may be prescribed in cases of SAD or related conditions and most clinicians recommended approaches such as hypnotherapy, stress management, relaxation training and CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), the latter usually in the form of graduated exposure therapy (GGT or systematic desensitization).  The CBT approach is well-documented and begins by suggesting patients be reminded “that everyone poops”.  That may not be true because in 2007, the KCNA (Korean Central News Agency, the DPRK’s (North Korea) energetic and productive state media) published a profile of Kim Jong-il (Kim II, 1941–2011; Dear Leader of DPRK (North Korea), 1994-2011) noting the physiology of the Dear Leader was so remarkable he was not subject to bowel movements, never needing to defecate or urinate.  It’s not known if this is a genetic characteristic of the dynasty and thus inherited by Kim Jong-un (Kim III, b circa 1982; Supreme Leader (originally The Great Successor) of DPRK since 2011) but this seems unlikely because the Supreme Leader is known, while on visits to remote locations within the DPRK (ballistic missile tests etc), to be accompanied by a military detail with a portable toilet for his exclusive (and reportedly not infrequent) use.

Doing The Daily Duty (by Cristina “Krydy” Guggeri); clockwise from top left: Vladimir Putin; b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999), Silvio Berlusconi (1936-2023; prime minister of Italy 1994-1995, 2001-2006 & 2008-2011), Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), Kim Jong-un (Kim III, b 1982; Supreme Leader of DPRK (North Korea) since 2011), Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) and Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; Israeli prime minister 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022).

Digital artist Cristina “Krydy” Guggeri in 2015 had a viral hit with her depictions of famous (and infamous) world leaders sitting on toilets.  Her “political pooping” project which she called “The Daily Duty” might be of help to those undergoing CBT for parcopresis, one of the recommended techniques being to “visualise a famous person they admire” in such circumstances.  Although not a clinical recommendation, presumably those suffering constipation could adopt the same therapy by visualizing a politician who “gives them the shits”.  That list might be long.

Still, the DPRK’s late and lamented Dear Leader aside, “almost everybody poops” and one intriguing recommendation for a CBT session is for a patient to visualise some famous person they particularly admire, sitting on the toilet, mid-poop.  Different patients obviously will admire a variety of celebrities so it’s a wholly subjective call although, noting the pop-culture zeitgeist, the most common current illustrative recommendation seems to be summon an image of the singer Taylor Swift (b 1989), an honor on which Ms Swift seems not to have commented.  Other practical tips include (1) carry a small air purifier or sanitizing spray to use in a public facility; depending on one’s diet and physiology, it will be necessary variously to spray pre-poop, mid-poop or post-poop, (2) line the inside of the toilet bowl with toilet paper; this will help absorb some of the sound and (3) flush several times while pooping; this will disguise the sound and reduce the smell (in Japan, this has been integrated into some public facilities by having a piped-music system play “waterfall sounds” at sufficient volume to disguise the activity of all but the most enthusiastic poopers).  Water management and conservation is now a matter of sometimes critical importance in cities so the piped sounds of splashing might become more common, the authorities unlikely much to welcome suggestions folk adopt the “multi-flush” strategy.

Waterfall

Waterfall (pronounced waw-ter-fawl or wot-er-fawl)

(1) A steep fall or flow of water in a watercourse from a height, as over a precipice; a cascade of falling water where there is a vertical or almost vertical step in a river.

(2) A hair-style using long, loose “waves”.

(3) As “waterfall development”, “waterfall management” and “the waterfall model”, descriptions of product research & development (R&D) (especially in tech) including sequential stages, from conception and design through testing and implementation, hopefully to result in a final delivered product.

(4) Figuratively, any waterfall-like outpouring of liquid, smoke etc.

(5) In slang (originally US but now widespread), the action of drinking from a vessel without touching it with the lips (a sanitary precaution with shared vessels).

(5) In the smoking of weed, a particular design of bong.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English waterfal & waterfalle, from the Old English wæterġefeall (waterfall) and cognate with the Old Norse vatnfall, the West Frisian wetterfal (waterfall), the Dutch waterval (waterfall), the German Wasserfall (waterfall) and the Swedish vattenfall (waterfall).  The colloquial use to describe (1) a necktie, (2) a cravat, (3) a chignon (in hair-styling, a low bun or knot positioned at or close to the nape of the neck) or (4) a beard are now effectively extinct.  Waterfall’s synonyms in general use (though hydrologists are more precise) include cascade, cataract, sault (old Canadian slang more often used of river rapids) and the clipping falls.  Waterfall is a noun verb & adjective and waterfalling & waterfalled are verbs; the noun plural is waterfalls.

The construct was water + fall and the Modern English spelling appears to have been a re-formation from around the turn of the sixteenth century.  The noun “water” was from the Old English wæter (water), from the Proto-West Germanic watar, from the Proto-Germanic watōr (water), from the primitive Indo-European wódr̥ (water).  The verb “water” was from the Middle English wateren, from the Old English wæterian, from the Proto-Germanic watrōną & watrijaną, from the Proto-Germanic watōr (water), from the primitive Indo-European wódr̥ (water).  The noun “fall” was from the Middle English fal, fall & falle, from the Old English feall & ġefeall (a falling, fall) and the Old English fealle (trap, snare), from the Proto-Germanic fallą & fallaz (a fall, trap).  It was cognate with the Dutch val, the German Fall (fall) & Falle (trap, snare), the Danish fald, the Swedish fall and the Icelandic fall.  The verb “fall” was from the Middle English fallen, from the Old English feallan (to fall, fail, decay, die, attack), from the Proto-West Germanic fallan (to fall), from the Proto-Germanic fallaną (to fall).  It was cognate with the West Frisian falle (to fall), the Low German fallen (to fall), the Dutch vallen (to fall), the German fallen (to fall), the Danish falde (to fall), the Norwegian Bokmål falle (to fall), the Norwegian Nynorsk falla (to fall), the Icelandic falla (to fall), the Albanian fal (forgive, pray, salute, greet) and the Lithuanian pùlti (to attack, rush).

Two views of Niagara Falls:  Between June-November 1969 (left), a temporary dam was built to stem the usual flow so geological studies could be conducted to ascertain the condition of the rocks and assess the extent of erosion.  After rectification work was carried out, the temporary structure was dynamited, an event promoted as a tourist attraction.  In 1885 (right), the falls underwent one of its occasional freezes.  Usually, these are what hydrologists call "partial freezes" (of late there have been a few: 2014, 2017 & 2019), the only (almost) "total freeze" recorded in 1848 although that was induced by the accumulation of ice on Lake Erie which caused a "natural dam" to form, stopping the flow of water to the Niagara River.  It was this rather than a "total freeze" of the falls which caused the phenomenon.

Lindsay Lohan with waterfall, Guanacaste Gold Coast, Costa Rica, January 2016.

For most of us, we know a waterfall when we see one: it’s a point in a waterway (usually a river) where the water falls over a steep drop that is close to literally vertical.  However, among hydrologists, there’s no agreed definition about the margins such as when something ceases to rapids and becomes a waterfall, some insisting that what lay-people casually call “waterfalls” are really “cataracts” or “cascades”.  To most of us there to admire the view, it’s a tiresome technical squabble among specialists but among themselves they seem happy for the debate to continue and some have even suggested precise metrics which can be mapped onto any formation.

Wasserfall (Waterfall), the embryonic SAM

Wasserfall (project Waterfall) was an early SAM (surface to air missile) developed by the Nazi armaments industry.  Although never used, it was highly influential in the post-war years.  In his memoirs (Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) discussed both the weapons systems with which he as minister was usually in some way connected and the political in-fighting and inter-service rivalries which hampered their development.  Although his writings are not wholly reliable (there was much he choose not to say on his contribution to anti-Jewish measures and his knowledge of the holocaust), on industrial and technical matters historians regard his account as substantially accurate (if incomplete).  Interestingly, after reading in Spandau prison a smuggled copy of the memoir (Ten Years and Twenty Days (1958)) of Karl Dönitz (1891–1980; as Grand Admiral head of the German Navy 1943-1945, German head of state 1945) who had been a fellow prisoner for the first decade of Speer’s twenty-year sentence, without any sense of irony, he remarked in his (extensively edited) prison journal (Spandau: The Secret Diaries (1975)):

“Where he discusses military operations and the questions of armaments, the book is interesting and probably also reliable.  His political attitude, on the other hand, his relationship to Hitler, his childish faith in National Socialism – all that he either wraps in silence or spins a veil of sailor’s yarns.  This is the book of a man without insight.”

Speer re-invented himself by wrapping in veils of silence anything too unpleasant to admit and spun plenty of veils so appealing that for decades there were many who, for various reasons, draped them over his past.  He wasn’t a man without insight but compared with Dönitz, he had much more guilt to conceal and thus more need of selective silence & spin.

Speer regarded the regime’s failure to devote the necessary resources to the Wasserfall project as one of Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945)  many strategic blunders which, by 1943, had made defeat inevitable.  Having delayed development of the revolutionary Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter (deployed at scale mass it would have been a devastating weapon against the Allied bomber fleets then laying waste to German cities and industry), Hitler took the decision to afford the highest priority to the A4 (better known as the V2) rocket to retaliate against English cities; psychologically, Hitler always wanted to be on the offensive and would later appal the experts by demanding the Me 262 be re-designed as a fast, light bomber.  As a delivery system the V2 was a decade ahead of its time and there was then no defense against the thing but it was a hugely expensive and resource-intensive way to deliver an explosive load under a tonne.  As Speer noted, even if it became possible to produce and fire the projected 900 a month, that would mean a daily bomb-load of some 24 tonnes falling on England and that at a time when the Allied bomber groups were on average dropping some 3000 tonnes a day on German targets.  Hitler wasn’t wrong in predicting the use of the V2 against civilian targets would have an effect well beyond the measure of the tonnage delivered and the historians who claimed the disruption to the allied war effort caused by the V1 (an early cruise missile) & V2 was “negligible” were simply wrong but to have been an effective strategic weapon, at least hundreds of V2s a day would need to have found their targets.

Captured blueprints and photographs from the Wasserfall project's development. 

Speer admitted he “…not only went along with this decision on Hitler's part but also supported it. That was probably one of my most serious mistakes.  We would have done much better to focus our efforts on manufacturing a ground-to-air defensive rocket.  It had already been developed in 1942, under the code name Wasserfall (Waterfall), to such a point that mass production would soon have been possible, had we utilized the talents of those technicians and scientists busy with [the V2] under Wernher von Braun (1912–1977).”

He added that von Braun’s team was employed to develop weapons “…for the army, whereas air defense was a matter for the air force.  Given the conflict of interests and the fierce ambitions of the army and the air force, the army would never have allowed its rival to take over the installations it had built up…”  The difference in resource allocation was stark, more than ten times the number of technical staff working on the V2 compared to Waterfall and other anti-aircraft rocket projects (such as the small Taifun (Typhoon)).  The attraction of the anti-aircraft rockets was obvious as Speer noted: “Waterfall was capable of carrying approximately six hundred and sixty pounds of explosives along a directional beam up to an altitude of fifty thousand feet and hit enemy bombers with great accuracy.  It was not affected by day or night, by clouds, cold, or fog. Since we were later able to turn out nine hundred of the offensive big rockets monthly, we could surely have produced several thousand of these smaller and less expensive rockets per month. To this day I think that this rocket, in conjunction with the jet fighters, would have beaten back the Western Allies' air offensive against our industry from the spring of 1944 on.  Instead, gigantic effort and expense went into developing and manufacturing long-range rockets which proved to be, when they were at last ready for use in the autumn of 1944, an almost total failure [a comment which, combined with Allied propaganda and disinformation, influenced for decades many post-war historians].  Our most expensive project was also our most foolish one. Those rockets, which were our pride and for a time my favorite armaments project, proved to be nothing but a mistaken investment. On top of that, they were one of the reasons we lost the defensive war in the air.”

Whether a mass-produced Waterfall would have been an effective weapon against the mass-bomber formations has divided analysts.  While the technology to produce a reliable directional mechanism had been mastered, what Germany never possessed was a proximity fuse which would have enabled the explosive charge to be triggered when a bomber was within range; instead the devices relied on impact or pre-set detonators.  Presumably, had other projects been suspended and the resources re-directed to Waterfall, mass production may have been possible and even if only partially successful, to disrupt a bombing offensive it was necessary only to inflict an ongoing 5-10% loss rate to make the campaign unsustainable.  Given the inevitable counter-measures, even that would likely have proved challenging but economic reality meant Waterfall probably did offer a more attractive path than the spectacular V2 and given the success in related fields, it was not impossible that had priority been granted, proximity fuses and other technical improvements may rapidly have appeared.  As it was, Waterfall (like Typhoon, Me 262, V2 and an extraordinary range of other intriguing projects) was the subject of a post-war race between the Russians, the Americans and the British, all anxious to gather up the plans, prototypes, and personnel of what were clearly the next generation of weapons.  As a proof of concept exercise Waterfall was convincing and within years SAMs were a vital component of defensive systems in most militaries.

The waterfall motif: Grill on the 1975 Imperial LeBaron Crown Coupe (left) and the Liebian International Building in China (right).

In design, "waterfall" can be a motif such as used for the grill on the 1975 Imperial LeBaron Crown Coupe.  It can also be literal and architects have many times integrated water-flows as an external design element but at 108 metres (354 feet) high, the one on the façade of the Liebian International Building in south-west China is easily the world’s tallest.  An eye-catching sight, the waterfall isn't run all that often (which must disappoint influencers who turn up with cameras ready) because it’s said to cost some 900 yuan (US$125) per hour just to pump the water to the top and, with the downturn in the property market, the building's revenues have fallen short of expectation.  When completed and displayed in 2016, the waterfall attracted some criticism on environmental grounds, water shortages far from unknown in China although the builders (Ludi Industry Group) pointed out the signature feature uses storm-water runoff, rainwater and groundwater, all stored in vast underground tanks.  It may for a while be the last example of exuberance to show up among China's skyscrapers, Xi Jinping (b 1953; general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and paramount leader of the People's Republic of China (PRC) since 2013) in 2014 calling for an end to what he called "weird architecture".  Mr Xi thinks buildings should be "suitable, economic, green and pleasing to the eye" rather than "oversized, xenocentric & weird".  Those skilled at reading between the CCP's lines decided the president had called the architects "formalists".  They would have taken note.

On TikTok, a small but active community of those who find waterfalls mesmerizing post video clips.

Battery

Battery (pronounced bat-rhee or bat-uh-ree)

(1) A combination of two or more cell electrically connected to work together to store electric energy (also called galvanic battery or voltaic battery); another name for accumulator

(2) Any large group or series of related things; a group or series of similar articles, machines, parts etc.

(3) In army jargon, two or more pieces of artillery used for combined action or a tactical unit of artillery, usually consisting of up to six guns together with the artillerymen and equipment required for their operation.

(4) A parapet or fortification equipped with artillery (mostly historic).

(5) In baseball, the pitcher and catcher considered as a unit (obsolete).

(6) In Admiralty use, a group of guns, missile launchers, searchlights, or torpedo tubes on a warship having the same caliber or used for the same purpose; the whole armament of a warship.

(7) In psychology, a series of tests yielding a single total score, used for measuring aptitude, intelligence, personality etc.

(8) The act of beating or battering; an instrument used in battering.

(9) In law, an unlawful attack upon another person by beating or wounding, or by touching in an offensive manner; In common law countries, the meaning varies in civil and criminal law.

(10) In orchestral music, the instruments comprising the percussion section of an orchestra (also known as the batterie).

(11) Any imposing group of persons or things acting or directed in unison.

(12) In agribusiness, a large group of cages for intensive rearing of poultry.

(13) In chess, two pieces of the same colour placed so that one can unmask an attack by the other by moving.

(14) An apparatus for preparing or serving meals (archaic).

1525-1535: From the Middle French batterie, from twelfth century Old French baterie (beating, thrashing, assault) from the Latin battuere and battuō (beat) & batre (to beat).  The ultimate source was the Gaulish.  The sense in law (the unlawful beating of another) was adapted by the military, the meaning in French shifting from bombardment (heavy blows upon city walls or fortresses) to "unit of artillery", a sense recorded in English army records in the 1550s.  It was first extended to the "electrical cell in 1748 by Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), his thoughts undocumented but presumably analogous with artillery: force being stored in a manner able to be discharged upon demand.  In Middle English, bateri meant only "forged metal ware". In US baseball jargon, in 1867, battery was a term for the pitcher (again drawing on the imagery of artillery) and later for both pitcher and catcher considered as a unit, again presumably drawing a military connection; the term is long obsolete.  As applied to cooking, the meaning emerged because batter needed to be beaten.  Battery is a noun and batteried an adjective; the noun plural is batteries.

In Law

Although the terms assault and battery have for centuries been used in criminal law, their origins are as two of the most ancient common law torts, classified now as one of the trespass to the person torts, all of which are known as intentional torts.  Both assault and battery are actionable per se (without proof of damage) although, if the wrongful act does result in injury, damages can be recovered for that injury as well.  In malicious prosecution proceedings however, it’s necessary to assert and prove damage.

Lindsay Lohan portable battery charger.

An assault is any direct and intentional threat made by a person that places the plaintiff in reasonable apprehension of an imminent contact with the plaintiff’s person, either by the defendant or by some person or thing within the defendant’s control.  The effect on the victim’s mind created by the threat is the crux, not whether the defendant actually had the intention or means to follow it up.  The intent required for the tort of assault is the desire to arouse an apprehension of physical contact, not necessarily an intention to inflict actual harm.  Although words are often a feature in threats which constitute an assault, actions alone may suffice if they place the plaintiff in reasonable apprehension of receiving an imminent (though not of necessity an immediate) battery.  A battery is a voluntary and positive act, done with the intention of causing contact with another that directly causes that contact.  The requisite intention for battery is simply that the defendant must have intended the consequence of the contact with the plaintiff; the defendant need not know the contact is unlawful and they need not intend to cause harm or damage as a result of the contact.  Not every contact is a battery.  Those in crowded trains are implied to have consented to most contacts, as has a rugby player who may have consented in writing although, even then, limitations exist and beyond tort, the criminal law can intervene if the degree of the contact exceeds that to which could reasonably thought to have been consented, a distinction influenced on technical grounds by those engaged in professional sport being in a workplace.  Where such things are contested, as a general principle, it will be the responsibility of the defendant to raise a defense of consent and prove it.

The early development of rockets in military aviation

Battery of wing-strut mounted Le Prieur rockets on Nieuport 11 (1917).

Although it became well-known only late in World War II (1939-1945), the ground-attack rocket had a surprisingly long history in military aviation, the Royal Flying Corps (RFC; 1912-1918, predecessor of the Royal Air Force (RAF; 1918-)) using wing-strut mounted Le Prieur solid-fuel rockets previously used by the French army on the battlefield.  Severely limited as an infantry tactical weapon because of inaccuracy and an effective range of barely 100 m (330 feet) (although 150 m (330 feet) was quoted based on experimental firings in ideal, controlled conditions), when used in the air, the latter drawback could somewhat be mitigated if a pilot could maneuver into a position at a helpful height and angle above the target.  Altitude though brought its own problems, the rocket’s trajectory affected by winds and the inaccuracy meant it was something which could only ever be effective against large, slow moving targets like observation balloons.  Against these, the RFC enjoyed some success, but the rockets were never popular with pilots because, depending on the capacity of the airframe, batteries of between six and twelve were used and, although all were triggered simultaneously, actual ignition could vary between rockets by one or two seconds, during which, the airplane had to maintain travelling in the direction of the target.

Ground-based test-firing of Le Prieur rocket (1917).

A one-two second delay sounds not critical but, even at the relative closing speed (typically not more than 80 mph (130 km/h)), because firing had to be at close range, it was enough significantly to increase the risk of collision.  That the RFC’s pilots managed to bring down some fifty balloons without loss may suggest some caution was exercised.  Strangely, despite the big airships being tempting targets, there’s no record of rockets downing a Zeppelin although even when using more conventional munitions, the defenses enjoyed only what was at the time thought limited success.  Of the dozens of Zeppelins the Germans lost, only a handful were destroyed by aircraft, more were the victims of ground-fire or, overwhelmingly, accidents.  It was only after the war the British fully understood the difficulties of mounting fighter defenses against bomber attack; of the biggest bombers used in the war by the Germans, not one would be lost and the experience allowed “the bomber will always get through” doctrine to shape the policies of many European nations during the inter-war years.

Modern (cosmetic) replica of Le Prieur rocket battery.

The sometimes stuttering rate of fire was a product of the construction.  The rocket was made by filling a cardboard tube with 200 g (6 ½ oz) of black powder, topped with a conical, 75 mm (3 inch) steel-tipped, wooden head.  Cardboard being porous, the black powder was prone to moisture infiltration and this happened at different rates, hence the delay sometime encountered in firing.  Directional assistance was limited to a 1.5 m (5 foot) wooden stick taped to the cardboard; they were essentially a big firework of the kind still made today.  Their limitations made them impractical for air-to-air combat although there is a record of a German fighter succeeding in forcing a RFC aircraft to crash-land after inflicting damage in a rocket attack but the rarity of the event does suggest it might have been a lucky shot.  Despite that one-off-victory, no effort seems to have been made to improve the technology and as soon as tracer rounds and incendiary-tipped bullets became available, they were replaced, the RFC’s last rocket-equipped sortie flown early in 1918.

Feuerlile AA Missile.

During the inter-war years, no air force seems much to have explored aircraft-mounted rockets although advances in the propulsion systems did see them developed as ground-based anti-aircraft batteries.  The early British devices were simple but a useful augmentation to the anti-aircraft guns which were only ever marginally effective in high-altitude attacks.  The German efforts, typically, were technically intriguing but never reached the point of being decisive weapons, all the projects falling victim to the usual bureaucratic inertia and squabbles between competing interests.  Although, both the Henschel Hs 117 Schmetterling (Butterfly) and the two Feuerlilie (Fire lily) rockets needed development beyond what was within the economic and industrial capacity of the Nazi state, the Wasserfall (waterfall) could by 1944 have been deployed had the resources been made available although military analysts doubt it would have been effective without the proximity fuses that Germany lacked.  Lacking the Wagnerian flavor he preferred, it's doubtful Hitler's approval was sought for the code-names.

Battery of RP-3 rockets.

Allied interest in the rocket was revived early in the war when its potential as a ground attack weapon was realised.  Early attempts to create the so-called “tank-buster” fighters by equipping the Hawker Hurricane (IV) with a pair of 40 mm canons had been partially successful but more firepower was needed to disable the heavier tanks and there were limits to the weight and calibre of canon a fighter could support.  The solution lay in the adoption of batteries of the RP-3 (Rocket Projectile 3 inch (75 mm)) which proved a versatile weapon.  Equipped with a 60-pound (27 kg) warhead, it was used against moving and static targets on both land and sea, proving effective even against submarines.

Single-rack mount (four rockets per wing) RP-3 battery on Hawker Typhoon Mark 1B (1943).

As the war dragged on, the ground-attack aircraft with rocket batteries became an increasingly important tactical weapon, able to deliver a destructive load with a speed and accuracy otherwise unattainable and at minimal cost in manpower and machinery.  The effectiveness of the rocket batteries also played a role in saving an aircraft on the verge of being abandoned,  turning it into one of the more important fighters of the later stages of the conflict.  The Hawker Typhoon (1941-1945) had been intended as the Hurricane’s replacement but the performance at altitude was disappointing and production seemed unlikely.  However, it was rushed into service because, whatever it’s failings, at low altitude it was the fastest thing the RAF possessed and, in 1941, changes in the nature of the Luftwaffe’s attack meant that was where the need lay.  It didn’t go well for the Typhoon, the exposure to combat revealing basic problems with the wing design and weaknesses in the fuselage which sometimes resulted in catastrophic structural failure.  The whole project was going to be scrapped.

Double-rack mount (six rockets per wing) RP-3 battery on Hawker Typhoon Mark 1B (1945).

Hawker however persisted and rectified the faults to the point where it was a useful part of the fleet, though it would never be the high-altitude interceptor originally intended.  By 1943 however, the nature of the Allied war effort was shifting to attack and the robust wing of the Typhoon was adapted to carry batteries of the RP-3 rockets and it proved a devastating combination.  One early drawback however was the misleading intelligence gained early in the Typhoon’s second career in ground-attack, subsequent reconnaissance revealing the pilots' reports of destruction being exaggerated sometime by a factor of hundreds.  It was perhaps understandable given the lack of visibility inherent in such operations and, after the war, it was realised the rocket attacks had a military effectiveness well beyond the actual damage caused.

Crepuscule

Crepuscule (pronounced kri-puhs-kyool or krep-uh-skyool)

(1) Twilight; dusk.

(2) By extension, a brief period of transition between two states.

1350-1400: From the Middle French crepuscule, from the thirteenth century Old French crépuscule, from the Latin crepusculum (morning or evening twilight), the construct being crepus- (akin to creper (dark, dusky; obscure)) + -culum, the accusative singular of cūlus (a vulgar term for the buttocks) from the Proto-Italic kūlos, from the primitive Indo-European kul-, from kew- (to cover), the cognates for which included the Old Irish cúl (bottom) and the Lithuanian kẽvalas (skin, cover); it was related to cutis (hide).  Crepuscule, crepuscle & crepusculum are nouns, crepuscular is an adjective; the noun plural is crepuscules.

Before the provision of electricity which by the twentieth century meant much of the world was no longer constrained in their activities by the hours of sunlight, even other forms of artificial light could be variously expensive, unavailable or unreliable so sunlight was important, socially and economically so it’s not surprising a number of words evolved to describe the transition from light to dark including blackness, dark, dusk, gloom, obscurity, twilight, sundown, sunset, black, blackout, brownout, cloudiness, dimness, duskiness, eclipse, lightlessness, murk, murkiness, nightfall, blue hour, gloaming, evenfall, fogfall & smokefall.

Lindsay Lohan in daylight (left), as the crepusculum descends (centre) and in the dark of night (right).

The most attractive of these is twilight, an evocative word and one to which poets have always been drawn, whether to suggest some sense of uncertainty or the last days of life before the darkness of death.  Twilight was from the Middle English twilight & twyelyghte, the construct being twi- (double, half-) +‎ light, thus literally “second light, half-light”.  It was cognate with the Scots twa-licht, twylicht & twielicht (twilight), the Low German twilecht & twelecht (twilight), the Dutch tweelicht (twilight, dusk) and the German Zwielicht (twilight, dusk).  In the Old English, the form was twēone lēoht (twilight).  The curious word twilit (the simple past tense and past participle of twilight) has long intrigued etymologists.  According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) the earliest known use dates only from 1869 and the speculation is it was coined by someone who found the conventional forms (twilitten & twilighted) inelegant.  Smokefall (the close of the day before nightfall, when fog comes) was apparently used as early as the eleventh century and reflects the use of “smoke” in some regional dialects to refer variously to darkness, smoke and fog.  After thing became more precise, it was re-purposed to describe “the soot which falls from a cloud of smoke” and much later was adopted by those creating special effects to mean “an artificial waterfall of smoke for shows”, the smoke (sometimes combined with a mist of fine water vapor) used to reflect images created by light projection.

The development of languages in cultures of course reflects their environment and priorities although the oft-repeated claim that the Inuit and other nations in arctic and sub-arctic regions had 400 (the number does vary from source to source) words for “snow” are misleading although linguistic anthropologists have explored this on a number of occasions and all have concluded there are at least a few dozen and if the net is cast wider to encompass all aspects of snow (types of tracks in snow, suitability for wildlife etc), then the number is in three figures.  Linguistics is a discipline which illustrates structural functionalism in its pure form: words are created according to need and remain in use if they fulfill a useful purpose.  To most living in urban environments in industrial societies “snow” is adequate for most situations but those running ski-fields need more nuances while for the peoples in arctic regions, the correct description of the type of snow they will soon have to traverse can be the difference between life and death.

Gully

Gully (pronounced guhl-ee)

(1) A small valley or ravine originally worn away by running water and serving as a drainage-way after prolonged or heavy rain.

(2) A ditch or gutter.

(3) In cricket, a position in the off-side field (some 30^o behind square), between point and the widest of the slips (or wicket-keeper if no slip is set); the fielder occupying this position.

(4) In tenpin bowling, either of the two channels at the side of the bowling lane.

(5) To make gullies in the ground or an object

(6) In hydrology, to form channels by the action of water.

(7) In slang, or relating to the environment, culture, or life experience in poor urban neighborhoods; vulgar, raw, or authentic and sometimes used as an alternative to ghetto.

(8) In (US) slang, as gullywasher, an intense, but typically brief rain event, the form dating from 1887.

(9) In Scotland and northern England, a knife, especially a large kitchen or butcher’s knife (the alternative spelling gulley).

(10) In some parts of the English-speaking word, a synonym for valley, especially one heavily wooded; a deep, wide fissure between two buttresses in a mountain face, sometimes containing a stream or scree (although in most traditions gullies are usually dry, water flowing only after heavy rain or a sudden input of water from other drainage systems.

(11) In engineering slang, any channel like structure which is available to be used for some purpose such as ducts or cables (applied to anything from computer motherboards to nuclear reactors).

(12) In engineering, a grooved iron rail or tram plate (mostly UK).

(13) In civil engineering, sometimes used as a descriptor for drop-kerbs, gutters etc.

(14) Of liquid, noisily to flow (obsolete).

(15) In South Asia (chiefly India but known also in Pakistan, Bangladesh & Sri Lanka), an alleyway or side street.     

1530–1540: Etymologists have traced several possible sources of the word and it’s not impossible the word evolved independently in different places.  It may have been a variant of the Middle English golet (esophagus, gullet), from Old French goulet (the French –et ultimately replace by –y), from Latin gula (throat) and the meaning-shift in the Middle English to "water channel, ravine" may have been influenced by Middle English gylle, gille & galle (deep narrow valley, ravine), hence gill for some time being a synonym.   An alternative source from The French has been suggested as goulet (neck of a bottle).  The use is South Asia is more certain, borrowed from Hindi गली (galī) and the Urdu گَلی‎ (galī) with the spelling evolving under the Raj under the influence of English.  It was inherited from Ashokan Prakrit galī and was cognate with the Punjabi ਗਲੀ (galī) / گَلی‎ (galī), the Gujarati ગલી (galī), the Sindhi ڳَليِ‎ / ॻली, the Marathi गल्ली (gallī) and the Bengali গলি (gôli), the Latin callis, the Italian calle and Spanish calle (street, lane or path).  The first reference (in Scottish English) to the knife (the spelling gully or gulley) dates from circa 1575–1585, the origin unknown.  Gully is a noun & verb and gullied & gullying are verbs; the noun plural is gullies.

Fielding positions in cricket.  Although some seem now mysterious, at some point all would have made sense to someone.

Historically, a gully was a natural formation of water flows which was usually dry except after periods of heavy rainfall or a sudden input of water from other drainage systems after more remote flooding or the melting of snow or ice.  Over the years the meaning has become less precise and other words are sometimes used to describe what are understood by many as gullies.  The noun ravine (long deep gorge worn by a stream or torrent of water) dates from 1760 and was from the mid seventeenth century French ravin (a gully), from the Old French raviner (to pillage; to sweep down, cascade), and the French ravine (a violent rush of water, a gully worn by a torrent), from the Old French ravine (violent rush of water, waterfall; avalanche; robbery, rapine).  Both the French noun and verb ultimately came from the Latin rapina (act of robbery, plundering (related to rapine and the source of much modern confusion because “rape” was long used in the sense of “pillage” or “kidnapping”)) with sense development influenced by the Latin rapidus (rapid).  Entries for ravine appear in early seventeenth century dictionaries with the meaning “a raging flood” whereas in fourteenth century Middle English, both ravin & ravine meant “booty, plunder, robbery”, this circa 1350-1500 borrowing of the Latin influenced French word.  Dating from 1832, the noun gulch (deep ravine), despite being of recent origin, is a mystery.  It may have been from the obsolete or dialectal verb gulsh (sink in to the soil) or "gush out" (of water), from the early thirteenth century Middle English gulchen (to gush forth; to drink greedily), the most evocative use of which was the mid thirteenth century gulche-cuppe (a greedy drinker).  Despite the vague similarities, etymologists maintain these forms had no etymological connection with gully.  Other words (trench, culvert, crevasse, chasm, notch, chase, watercourse, channel, gutter gorge watercourse etc), even when they have precise meanings in geography or hydrology, are also sometimes used interchangeably with gully.

Japanese manhole covers (マンホールの蓋 (Manhōru no futa)) can be delightful or functional (in a typically thoughtful Japanese manner, some include a locality map with directions) but usually provide little inspiration for those designing wheels.

In the nineteenth century, German picked up Gully from English in the sense of “a road drain, a drainage channel” (synonym: Straßenablauf), the covering of a road drain or gully being Ablaufgitter & Ablaufdeckel.  One adaptation quickly coined was Gullydeckel (manhole cover), the construct being gully + deckel, (an untypically economical construct in German given the usual forms for manhole were Kontrollschacht & Einstiegschacht), an alternative to Kanaldeckel (manhole cover).  Deckel (lid, cap, cover of a container) was an ellipsis of Bierdeckel (beer mat) and also used in humorous slang to mean “headwear, hat” although it was most productive in the formation of compounds with cap in the sense of “an artificial or arbitarily imposed upper limit or ceiling” such as Preisdeckel (price cap), the common synonym being Deckelung (capping).

A German Gullideckel (left), a Mercedes-Benz “Gullideckel” aluminum wheel (centre) and a 1988 Mercedes-Benz 560 SL so equipped.

The alternative spelling was Gullideckel and it was this which was picked up to describe the design of aluminum wheel adopted by Mercedes-Benz in 1982.  The reference is explained by the wheel’s design bearing a similarity to that typically used by German manhole covers although Mercedes-Benz dryly explained their concerns were less artistic or a tribute to Teutonic urban hydrology than a reflection of the imperatives of optimizing the air-flow required for brake cooling and a reduction in drag compared to their earlier, long-serving design.  It was in the 1980s that the greatest improvement in the aerodynamic efficiency of cars was achieved and wheels were a significant, though often little-noticed part of the process.

Top row: Mercedes-Benz C111 at Hockenheimring, 1969 (left).  The C111 series was originally a rolling test bed for the evaluation of Wankel engines ad it was on the C111 that the new wheels (then called “Premier”) were first shown although no production versions (centre) were ever made so wide.  The 6½ inch versions were first used on the 450 SEL 6.9 (right).  Bottom row: A bundt cake tin (left); like the wheels, the tins are made from aluminum but are always cast or pressed, not forged.  A ginger bundt cake (centre) and a lemon blueberry bundt cake with vanilla icing (right).      

Aunger magazine advertisement, Australia, 1974.  Not all wheels use an existing circular product as a model.  A style popular in the 1970s, it was known colloquially as the “jellybean”, “slotted” or “beanhole”.  Later in the decade, “phonedial” wheels (and wheel covers) arrived. 

The earlier design used by Mercedes-Benz was apparently not inspired by any existing product but the public soon found nicknames.  Introduced in 1969 and soon an option throughout the range except du Grosser (the 600 (W100) 1963-1981) until 1986, the factory initially listed them as the “Premier Wheel” (ie the “top of the range”) but in the public imagination the nicknames prevailed.  First informally dubbed "Baroque" because of what was then considered an ornate design, the name which endured was “Bundt” an allusion to the popular “bundt cakes”, a circular cake with a hole in the centre and there was certainly some resemblance.  Produced by the Otto Fuchs (pronounced fuks) Company of Meinerzhagen (near Cologne), the early versions were all painted silver (though not clear-coated) and available only in a 14 x 6-inch size, 5½ inch versions soon offered to suit the lower powered cars while in the mid-1970s, production began of 6½ inch versions to handle the tyres fitted to the much faster 450 SEL 6.9 (W116) and 450 SLC 5.0.  Demand for the bundt wheel option grew rapidly, forcing Fuchs to add a line of cast wheels in the same design, the casting process able to achieve both higher volumes and a lower unit cost.  The process of forging aluminum requires great heat and immense pressure (Fuchs used as much as 7,000 tons of force) and realigns the granular structure of the material in the direction of the flow, creating a more homogeneous and less porous micro-structure.  Forging renders aluminum as strong as steel for less weight and provides a notably higher resistance to fatigue and corrosion but the process is expensive.  Fuchs also manufactured small runs of a 15 x 7-inch version and today these are much sought after but, being expensive, they remain rare.  Such is the appeal of the style, specialists in the US have fabricated versions in both a 16 & 17-inch format to enable the use of the larger, more capable tyres now available.  Today, factories often offer a variety of designs of aluminum wheels with some styles available only briefly but for over fifteen years, the bundt was the only one available on a Mercedes-Benz.

Five-leaf clover: Fuchs wheels on Porsche 911s in matte, (left), polished (centre) & with painted "recessed areas" (right).  The five spoke wheel is a matter of particular interest to the originality police in the Porsche collector community and great attention is paid to date-stamping and paint, it being very important that where appropriate the wheels variously should be polished, painted or raw metal.  The Porsche pedants (who in intensity and seriousness recall seventeenth century Jesuit priests) do not tolerate any deviance from what was done by the factory and have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the way paint was sometimes applied to recessed areas.  

Half a decade earlier, the neighbors in Stuttgart had also designed an aluminum wheel.  Porsche had planned a 1965 release for its new 911S, at that time the fastest, sportiest version of the 911 which had been on sale since 1963 and the distinctive five-spoke shape would first be sold in 1966 and remain on the option list until 1989, the popularity so enduring it’s since been reprised more than once.  Distinctive though it was, there were really only two requirements for the new wheel: It needed to be durable and light, strong enough to endure the stresses the higher speed of the 911S and delivering a reduction in un-sprung mass weight significant enough to enhance handling.  The design target was an aluminum wheel which weighted 3 kg (6½ lb) less than steel wheel of the same dimensions.

1957 Volkswagen Microbus Deluxe with 15 inch Fuchs-style chromed wheels (not a VW part-number).  Between 1951-1967, the Microbus was offered as the Kleinbus Sonderausführung (small bus, special version) which was marketed variously as the Microbus Deluxe, Sunroof Deluxe & Samba; the most obvious distinguishing features were the folding fabric sunroof and the unusual “skylight” windows which followed the curve of sides of the roof, a technique borrowed from tourist train carriages, busses and sightseeing boats.  Sambas faithfully restored to original specification have sold for over US$300,000 but on those which have been modified (larger displacement engines often fitted), the "five-leaf clover" wheels sometimes appear.  

Porsche had also used the Otto Fuchs Company, impressed by the foundry having developed a new manufacturing process which, instead of using a cast rim, manufactured it in one piece from an alloy made of 97% aluminum with the remainder composed mostly of magnesium, silicon, manganese & titanium, the technique still used by the company today.  The five-leaf clover design was based on nothing in particular and done in-house by Porsche, the only change from the original prototype apparently a smoothing of the scalloped shape which first adorned the spokes.  The design proved adaptable, the original 15 x 4½-inch wide wheels growing eventually to eight inches when fitted to the rear of the 911 Turbo (930; 1975-1989), the additional rubber required to tame (to some degree) the behavior of a machine which some labeled the “widow maker”.  Later designs have offered various specific improvements but none has matched the charm of the original and Fuchs have continued its manufacture for later model 911s, some in larger diameters to accommodate advances in suspension geometry and tyres.

Top row, gas-burners butt-to-butt: Lindsay Lohan using gas-burner as improvised cigarette lighter, Terry Richardson (b 1965) photo-shoot, 2012 (left) and 1970 Porsche 914/6 with Mahle “gas-burner” wheels.  Bottom row: Five-hob Kenmore gas-burner stove, circa 1950 (left) and a quintet of five-lug Mahle “gas-burners” (option code 975, part number 901.361.017.00, 5½"J x 15", 42mm offset).  The five-lug wheels were used on the 911 & 914/6 while the four lug version (part number 914-361-015-00) was for the 914.

Although the five-leaf clover design never picked-up an association with circular shapes like manhole covers or cakes, there was another Porsche wheel which did.  Produced by Mahle GmbH and quickly dubbed “gas-burners” (an allusion to the resemblance to the hobs on gas-stoves), they were available on the 911, 912 & 914-6 between 1970-1972 and although generally not thought as attractive as Fuchs’ creations, the gas-burners have a cult following based on pure functionality: pressure cast in magnesium and available only in a 15 x 5½-inch format, at 4.3 kg (9½ lb) they’re said to be the lightest 15-inch wheel ever made, more svelte even than the 15 x 6-inch units Michelin rendered in glass fibre & resin for the Citroën SM (1970-1975) (the so-called “plastic wheels”).

1972 Porsche 917/10.

The Mahle “gas-burners” usually were seen in unadorned metal and over the years that hasn’t changed, Porsche owners usually resisting any temptation to have them chrome-plated, a commendable restraint which didn’t extend to many with Mercedes-Benz SLs, SECs, CLs and such, the lure of the shiny apparently afflicting only those of certain German cargo cults.  The Mahles did though in 1974 have one colourful outing, Porsche making a thousand-odd 914 LEs (Limited Edition) models to celebrate the success of the 917/10 & 917/30 in the 1972 & 1973 Can-Am (Canadian-American Challenge) Cup series.  The LE version came with the 914’s mechanical specification unchanged so it was a modest tribute to one of the most extraordinary racing cars ever built (one which routinely took to the track with 1,000 horse power (HP) and in qualifying trim could be tuned to generate close to 1,500) but it was a difficult era (post emission control & pre modern electronics) in which to make street-legal high-performance variants so colors & bundled extras it had to be.

1972 Porsche 917/30.

The plan had been for the run to be called the “914 Can-Am” but while the SCCA (Sports Car Club of America, the sanctioning body for the series) was in principle agreeable, the parties, after some haggling, couldn’t agree on the per-vehicle royalty fee so the bland (and free) “LE” moniker was used; on the option list, the package appeared as M-778 (Can-Am equipment) so presumably the material was printed in anticipation of agreement being reached with the SCCA.  All the LEs left the factory in the spring of 1974 and, in the way Porsche then did things, their specification was close to identical with the odd variation, things like tinted glass or the rear demister sometimes fitted, sometimes not.  The Porsche clubs account for this by the LEs not being produced in a single, dedicated batch (The VINs (vehicle identification number) span a range of 2400-odd) with the parts fitted as cars came down the line, meaning the LEs were interpolated with standard 914s.  There were two basic LEs: some 500 in Black (LO41) with Sunflower Yellow (L13K) highlights (code U1V) and 500 in a Light Ivory (L80E) & Phoenix Red (L32K and visually close to orange) mix (code U2V9), the former picking up the predictable nickname “Bumblebee” the latter, more imaginatively, dubbed “Creamsicle” (a type of ice cream with a similar color scheme).  Rumours of a Yellow & Green combo were apparently an urban legend so the “Grasshopper” was a mythical beast although some 914s have privately been transformed thus.

1974 Porsche 914 LE “Bumblebee”.

All the LEs were shipped to North America for sale in the US and Canada and along with the RPO (regular production option) Appearance Group option (Code 06, fog lamps and centre console with clock and additional gauges (oil temperature & voltmeter) at US$300), the LE package (an additional US$320) included special interior appointments, the Mahle “gas-burner” wheels, a front air-dam (spoiler), front and rear anti-sway bars and, of course, the two unique paint combinations, highlighted by a “negative stripe” just above the rocker panels, spelling out “Porsche”.  All LEs were fitted with the 1971 cm³ (120 cubic inch) Volkswagen-based flat four which, rated at 91 HP (as certified for use in the US) had made the 914 more competitive than when fitted with the original 1795 cm³ (110 cubic inch), the characteristics of which were judged “marginal” in a sports car and the factory must have agreed, the fraction in its claim of 72½ HP a hint every little bit helped.  Few though ever complained about the handling the mid-engined configuration offered and the four-wheel disc brakes also attracted praise.

1974 Porsche 914 LE “Creamsicle”.

The 914 LE was a one-off but it did pass on some bits and pieces used later in the 914’s run (1969-1976), the most obvious of which was the front air-dam (part number 914.503.235.10), listed eventually on the RPO list for US$145 and supplied as a dealer-fitted kit with a pair of mounting brackets (left 914.503.237.10 & right 914.503.238.10); it replaced the standard metal valence.  In common with many fittings of its type, the air dam was susceptible to impacts with kerbs and it’s the part of the LE least likely to have survived the years; while reproductions have been made, the Porsche community notes the quality of the OEM (original equipment manufacturer) units was superior.  Also available in the aftermarket are reproduction side stripes and they exist because (1) some cars were (at the customer’s request) supplied un-striped and (2) there was in 1974 some market resistance to the distinctive color schemes so dealers sometimes resorted to restoring them to what were essentially plain Black or Light Ivory 914s, an approach taken in 1970-1971 by some Plymouth dealers who found the wildly styled Superbird sometimes a “hard sell”.  However, the 914 LE now has a cult following and when one is discovered without its distinctive fittings, a restoration is common although collectors note the twenty-first century’s reproduction Phoenix Red vinyl doesn’t quite match what was done in 1974.