How Humans Would Get to Mars

As the 40th-anniversary celebrations of the moon landing end, a human voyage to Mars remains a holy grail for NASA.

"We're still looking at human exploration of Mars as one of the goals of the future at the top level," said NASA researcher Bret Drake with Lunar and Mars Integration at Johnson Space Center in Houston. "Having a human actually set foot on another planet would be one of the greatest adventures possible, one of the greatest monuments to history."

A crewed mission to the red planet is a daunting challenge that lies at the edge of current technological capabilities and possibly beyond. Still, NASA keeps a strategy to go there and constantly keeps up to date with new ideas.

"Mars is one of those targets of fascination that has been around a long time," Drake said.

How to get there
A voyage to Mars would take a crew about 180 days. So far NASA is exploring two options for propulsion there — a nuclear thermal rocket and a chemical engine.

A nuclear thermal rocket, would use a nuclear reactor to super-heat a gas and blast it out the nozzle to generate thrust. "It's a very high-performance vehicle, and we think it's very safe, not radioactive at launch, but it is a nuclear system," Drake said. "The idea for the chemical engine is similar to that used on the space shuttle, liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen. It's a fairly well-known technology, but it's not as efficient as nuclear thermal."

To reach the Martian surface, NASA envisions an aerodynamic lander that flies down with thrusters to help it descend. The ascent vehicle that takes the crew back into space for the six-month trip home will likely rely on a combination of methane and liquid oxygen. "Oxygen is present in the Martian atmosphere in the carbon dioxide, so you can use resources on Mars to make it," Drake said.

Before the crew even gets to Mars, the plan is to send as much cargo there ahead of time as possible. "That way we can know it's operating right before we ever commit the crew," Drake said. "A Mars mission is not like a lunar mission where you can come home at any time — once they're committed, a crew is out there for years."

The very habitat the crew stays at on the Martian surface would be sent ahead of time. "You can also do things like produce and store oxygen from resources at Mars beforehand for the crew and the ascent vehicle. You could generate water as well."

Big crew, long stay
NASA envisions a crew of six astronauts for a Mars mission. "That's about what's required for the skills needed — a commander, scientist, engineer, medical officer, things like that, as well as cross-training," Drake said. "They'll need expertise in a wide range of disciplines."

Currently NASA envisions a long stay for a crew at Mars, about 500 days.
"Crew autonomy is vital, because there's an up to 40 minute time delay in communication between Earth and the crew because of the distance," Drake said. "And the crew doesn't have a capability for re-supply — they'll just have what they send ahead or what they bring with them — so when things fail, they'll have to be able to repair them. They must be self-sufficient."

To survive the voyage, air and water need to be completely recycled regularly.
"We're learning a lot on the International Space Station right now on air revitalization and water recovery," Drake said. "What's nice about Mars is that there's carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, so that can help get us oxygen and water for the crew. In terms of food, we're looking at smaller systems, 'salad machines,' to grow food for the crew. Fresh food is not only good for nutrition, but good for the mind as well. A fresh tomato can really boost psychology."

Mental and physical challenges
The long hardship of roughly two-and-a-half years in space with only a few people in a potentially lethal environment will undoubtedly challenge the psyches of Mars explorers.
"The Russians are conducting a test right now that hopefully will shed light on the behavioral sciences aspect of a Mars mission," Drake said. "Looking at other remote exploration endeavors is helpful as well — Antarctica, or submarines — all that feeds into the human behavioral aspects of crew selection."

A key concern for astronauts as well as during the stay on Mars is dangerous radiation in the form of storms of high-energy particles from the sun as well as cosmic rays from deep space. "The best radiation protection material is hydrogen, or water, which is rich in hydrogen," Drake said.
On the surface of Mars, NASA envisions that cargo deployed ahead of time can produce water before the crew arrives to use as a shield during the crew's stay there. On the way to and from Mars, the ship could be configured so that water and food surround areas where crew spend most of their time, but "a 'storm shelter' aboard the ship will be an integral part for short events of radiation that can be lethal," Drake said.

"It's humanity's next step to understanding and expanding our presence outward," Drake said. "We view human exploration of Mars as being an international endeavor, most likely not limited to just one country, but probably of global scale.

Florida Woman, 90, Behind the Same Wheel 559,000 Miles Later

The last time Rachel Veitch bought a car, gas cost 39 cents per gallon, Lyndon B. Johnson was in the White House and "The Little Old Lady From Pasadena" was a hit song on the radio. Nearly 600,000 miles later, the 90-year-old Florida woman still drives her 1964 Mercury Comet Caliente every day.
Go, Granny, Go.

Veitch, of Orlando, credits her meticulous care and near-obsessive dedication to her car -- she calls it "Chariot" -- as the reason it's still turning over every morning, year after year after year. The retired nurse maintains an exhaustive collection of maintenance records and changes the oil every 3,000 miles.

"When I buy gas, I write down the mileage, the date and how many miles per gallon I got," Veitch told FOXNews.com. "I've never been a destructive person and I've just taken care of everything, except my husbands."

Veitch, a mother of four, bought "Chariot" in February 1964 from a dealer in Sanford, Fla., for $3,289. The car has outlasted her three marriages and has gone through eight mufflers, at least 17 batteries and three sets of shocks. Its odometer recently clicked 559,000 miles.

"My Chariot has never lied to me or cheated on me and I can always depend on her," Veitch said. "My last husband and I divorced in 1975 and he took the 1972 Pontiac we had and I kept Chariot. I'll bet he's traded cars half a dozen times by now and I still have my Chariot, my faithful pal."

Veitch said the classic car — which boasts automatic transmission, frosty air conditioning and a "lousy" 15 miles per gallon — has been featured in several car shows across the country and took her all the way to Pennsylvania in 2007 for her 70th high school reunion. Classmates and neighbors alike are sick of the same old story, she said. "People don't want to talk to me anymore," Veitch said. "They're tired of hearing about my Chariot."

Veitch's dream car saw its lone renovation about 12 years ago, after she got a speeding ticket for going 92 mph in a 55 mph zone. "After that, I put in cruise control," she said. "You can't hold her down, she's a feisty old girl." The car also survived a rear-end collision while Veitch drove along I-95 in Georgia in 1980. She was not injured.

Classic car experts say the 1964 Mercury Comet Caliente would likely sell for about $3,000 in mint condition, or up to $12,000 if it was restored to new. But Veitch says she'll never sell, and she packs a .38-caliber handgun in case anyone tries to take her chariot for a ride without her. "Somebody's going to go down with me if I get in that situation," Veitch said. "I'm not going down alone." Veitch, who will turn 91 next month, said she last renewed her driver's license in 2003 and scoffed when officials told her she did not have to take another driving test. "I said, 'This is ridiculous, you should be testing me," she said. "It's a lot of baloney."

With any luck, Veitch said, "Chariot" will end up in the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Mich., a testament to a woman who cared for a single car for 45 years.

Asked if she considered trading in her car under President Obama's "Cash for Clunkers" program, which gives $4,500 to motorists who trade in older cars with poor gas mileage, Veitch replied: "He ain't gonna get mine. I'll die fighting for her."

Catch Me If You Can

Abagnale is now a millionaire through his legal fraud detection and avoidance consulting business based in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Abagnale also continues to advise the FBI, with whom he has associated for over 35 years, by teaching at the FBI Academy and lecturing for FBI field offices throughout the country. He also has a son who now works for the FBI.
Frank William Abagnale Jr. was born the third of four children and spent the first sixteen years of his life in New York's Bronxville. His French Algerian mother, Paula, and father, Frank Abagnale Sr., divorced when he was 16, and afterwards he would be the only child of whom his father would gain custody. According to Abagnale, his father did not necessarily want him, but in order to reunite his family he would attempt to win his mother back until his father's death in 1974. His father was also an affluent local who was very keen on politics, and was a major role model for Abagnale Jr.

First Con
His first victim was his father. As Frank Jr grew interested in women, he found that he could not stop spending money on them. In order to fund his exploits with the opposite sex, since he was always short on cash, he asked his father for a credit card on which to charge gas for the 1952 Ford truck his father gave him. He began to make deals with gas station employees all around the New York area to falsely charge items to his card, then give him a portion of the money; in return the employee got to keep the item and "resell" it for the full price. Over the course of 2 months, Frank Jr "bought" the following items for his vehicle:
14 sets of tires
22 batteries
large quantities of gasoline
The bill totaled up to $3,400, which his father discovered only after a debt collector contacted him in person, as Frank Jr was throwing away the bills that came in the mail. When confronting his son, Frank Sr. wasn't so worried about the expenses he'd accumulated, but rather that his son replied, "It's the girls, Dad, they do funny things to me. I can't explain it." This libido and greed-tainted response set the tone of his life until his imprisonment.

Bank fraud
Abagnale's first confidence trick was writing personal checks on his own overdrawn account, an activity which he discovered was possible when he wrote checks for more money than was in the account. This, however, would only work for a limited time before the bank demanded payment, so he moved on to opening other accounts in different banks, eventually creating new identities to sustain this charade. Over time, he experimented and developed different ways of defrauding banks, such as printing out his own almost-perfect copies of checks, depositing them and persuading banks to advance him cash on the basis of money in his accounts. The money, of course, never materialized as the checks deposited were rejected.

One of Abagnale's famous tricks was to print his account number on blank deposit slips and add them to the stack of real blank slips in the bank. This meant that the deposits written on those slips by bank customers ended up going into his account rather than that of the legitimate customers. He took in over $40,000 by this method before he was discovered. By the time the bank began looking into his case, Abagnale had collected all the money and already changed his identity.

Impersonations

Airline pilot
Pan American Airlines estimates that between the ages of 16 and 18, Frank Abagnale flew over 1,000,000 miles on over 250 flights and flew to 26 countries, at Pan Am's expense, by deadheading. He was also able to stay at hotels for free during this time. Everything from food to lodging was billed to the airline.

Teaching Assistant
He claims to have forged a Columbia University degree and taught sociology at Brigham Young University for a semester working as a teaching assistant by the name of "Frank Adams".

Doctor
For nearly a year, he impersonated a chief resident pediatrician in a Georgia hospital under the alias of Frank Conners. He chose to do this after nearly being caught by police after leaving a flight in New Orleans. Aware of possible capture, he retired to Georgia for the time being. When filling out an application for an apartment he listed his previous occupation as "doctor" fearing that the owner might check with Pan Am if he had listed "pilot". After becoming friends with a real doctor who lived beneath him, he became a resident supervisor of interns as a favor for him until they found someone who could take the job. He did not find the job difficult because supervisors did not have to do any actual medical work. However, as a medical layman, Abagnale was nearly discovered after almost letting a baby die through oxygen deprivation (he had no idea what the nurse meant when she said there was a "blue baby"). Abagnale was able to fake his way through most of his duties by letting the interns handle most of the cases that came in during his late night shift, for example setting broken bones and other such tasks. Finally, the hospital found another replacement and he returned to the air. In an interview with Frank Abagnale, he said that the supervisor had a death in the family and had to fly out West, during which Abagnale took the position. However, since they had trouble finding a permanent applicant, he stayed for twenty-five months.

Attorney
Abagnale forged a Harvard University law transcript, passed the bar exam of Louisiana and got a job at the office of the state attorney general of Louisiana at the age of nineteen. This happened while he was posing as Pan Am First Officer "Robert Black". He told a stewardess he had briefly dated that he was also a Harvard law student and she introduced him to a lawyer friend. Abagnale was told the bar needed more lawyers and was offered a chance to apply. After making a fake transcript from Harvard, he prepared himself for the compulsory exam. Despite failing twice, he claims to have passed the bar exam legitimately on the third try after 8 weeks of study, because "Louisiana at the time allowed you to (take) the Bar over and over as many times as you needed. It was really a matter of eliminating what you got wrong."
However, there was a real Harvard graduate who also worked for that attorney general, and he hounded Abagnale with questions about his tenure at Harvard. Naturally, Abagnale could not answer questions about a university he had never attended, and he later resigned after eight months to protect himself, after learning the suspicious graduate was making inquiries into his background.

Capture and imprisonment
Eventually he was caught in France in 1969 when an Air France attendant recognized his face from a wanted poster. When the French police apprehended him, 12 of the countries in which he had committed fraud wanted to extradite him.
After trial he was given a penalty 12 months in French prison (about 6 months served), 6 months in Swedish prison, 12 yr. in US prison (4 yr. served).

Alleged escapes
While being extradited to the U.S., Abagnale claims to have escaped from a British VC-10 airliner as it was turning onto a taxi strip at New York's JFK International Airport. Under cover of night, he scaled a nearby fence and hailed a cab to Grand Central Terminal. After stopping in the Bronx to change clothes and pick up a set of keys to a Montreal bank safe deposit box containing US$20,000. He was caught by a constable of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police while standing in line at the ticket counter and subsequently handed over to the U.S. Border Patrol.
Being sentenced to 12 years in the Federal Correction Institution at Petersburg, Virginia, in April 1971, Abagnale also reportedly escaped the Federal Detention Center in Atlanta, Georgia while awaiting trial, which he considers in his book to be one of the most infamous escapes in history. During the time, U.S. prisons were being condemned by civil rights groups and investigated by congressional committees. In a stroke of luck that included the accompanying U.S. marshal forgetting his detention commitment papers, Abagnale was mistaken for an undercover prison inspector and was even given privileges and food far better than the other inmates. The FDC in Atlanta had already lost two employees as a result of reports written by undercover federal agents, and Abagnale took advantage of their vulnerability. He contacted a friend (called in his book "Jean Sebring") who posed as his fiancee and slipped him the business card of "Inspector C.W. Dunlap" of the Bureau of Prisons which she had obtained by posing as a freelance writer doing an article on "fire safety measures in federal detention centers". She also handed over a business card from "Sean O'Riley" (later revealed to be Joe Shaye), the FBI agent in charge of Abagnale's case, which she doctored at a stationery print shop. Abagnale told the corrections officers that he was indeed a prison inspector and handed over Dunlap's business card as proof. He told them that he needed to contact FBI Agent Sean O'Riley, on a matter of urgent business. O'Riley's phone number was dialed and picked up by Jean Sebring, at a payphone in an Atlanta shopping-mall, posing as an operator at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Later, he was allowed to meet unsupervised with O'Riley in a predetermined car outside the detention center. Sebring, incognito, picked Abagnale up and drove him to an Atlanta bus station where he took a Greyhound bus to New York, and soon thereafter, a train to Washington, D.C.. Abagnale bluffed his way through an attempted capture by posing as an FBI agent after being recognized by a motel registration clerk. Still bent on making his way to Brazil, Abagnale was picked up a few weeks later by two New York City Police Department detectives when he inadvertently walked past their unmarked police car.
Legitimate jobs
In 1974, after he had served fewer than five years, the United States federal government released him on the condition that he would help the federal authorities without pay against crimes committed by fraud and scam artists, and sign in once a week.
After his release Abagnale tried several jobs, including cook, grocer and movie projectionist, but he was fired from most of these upon having his criminal career discovered via background checks and not informing his employers that he was a former convict. Finding them unsatisfying, he approached a bank with an offer. He explained to the bank what he had done, and offered to speak to the bank's staff and show various tricks that "paperhangers" use to defraud banks. His offer included the clause that stated if they did not find his speech helpful, they would owe him nothing; otherwise, they would only owe him $500, with an agreement that they would provide his name to other banks. The banks were impressed by the results, and he began a legitimate life as a security consultant.

He later founded Abagnale & Associates, which advises the business world on fraud. Through this system, he raised enough money to pay back all those he scammed over his criminal career. Abagnale is now a millionaire through this legal fraud detection and avoidance consulting business. Abagnale also continues to advise the FBI, by teaching at the FBI Academy and lecturing for FBI field offices throughout the country. He also has a son who now works for the FBI. According to his website, more than 14,000 institutions have adopted Abagnale's fraud prevention programs.
Joe Shaye, the FBI agent remained a close friend and a constant source of inspiration for Abagnale.