Great Balls of Fire

Lombardo Wants Firefighters for Lithium Infernos

If there’s one thing folks can count on in Nevada besides a casino taking their last dollar, it’s a fire hotter than the hinges of Hades whenever something with lithium catches aflame. A man with a firm handshake and an even firmer grasp on the obvious, Governor Joe Lombardo, has made a startling realization—perhaps firefighters include a team meant to handle such fires.

The good governor made this revelation at the February gathering of Nevada’s Department of Transportation board, where he imparted this wisdom: “If you were talking about the lithium fires, I think it would be conducive to have fire there.”

A sentiment as profound as it is self-evident, proving once again that government meetings are where common sense goes to take a long nap. The newfound enlightenment stems from last summer’s debacle when a truck carrying lithium flipped on I-15 near Baker, Calif., creating a conflagration so spectacular that it left traffic paralyzed for nearly two days.

The event came with a rather inconvenient truth—many emergency responders are about as prepared to handle lithium fires as a gambler is to walk away from the roulette table after one win. To remedy this, NDOT has rustled up some $20,000 in federal funds to host a peer exchange in Las Vegas in April, assembling emergency responders from Utah, California, Arizona, and Nevada. The grand confab, charmingly dubbed the I-15/I-11 Emergency Operations Peer Exchange, will presumably feature discussions on how best to wrangle these fires before they turn every freeway incident into an impromptu fireworks display.

Ever vigilant, Lombardo has also directed emergency management teams to “do some comprehensive training and/or awareness on how we respond to lithium fires.” This initiative comes in the wake of a Homeland Security Commission meeting, where Clark County’s freshly minted fire chief, Billy Samuels, provided an update on their readiness—or lack thereof—to handle such situations.

In an ironic twist, the meeting also included talk of a New Year’s Day Cybertruck explosion outside the Las Vegas Trump International Hotel, set off by a former Green Beret from Colorado. Though not a lithium fire, the incident prompted the governor to remark that fire crews were still “feeling their way on how the hell we deal with these lithium fires,” which is not exactly the kind of confidence-building statement one hopes to hear from the people tasked with preventing mass immolation.

Samuels, newly seated in his role after his predecessor traded firefighting for lawmaking, has yet to respond to inquiries. Whether this silence signals deep contemplation or bureaucratic inertia remains to be seen.

With lithium-powered vehicles and devices multiplying like rabbits in a carrot patch, the state had best sort out how to keep these fires in check. Otherwise, every highway crash may resemble an Old West gunpowder mishap, leaving drivers stranded, firefighters scratching their heads, and state officials scrambling to throw more money at the problem.