The Mystery Behind the Blue-and-Yellow Can: The Story of WD-40
Most of us have a blue-and-yellow can of WD-40 tucked away in a garage or under the kitchen sink, ready to silence a squeaky hinge or free a rusted bolt. It is one of those household staples so familiar that we rarely stop to question what the letters and numbers actually mean. For decades, the name was just a brand, but the true story behind it is far more interesting than a simple marketing choice. It turns out that WD-40 wasn’t designed for homeowners at all; it was a high-stakes solution born from Cold War engineering and the grueling reality of scientific trial and error.
In 1953, a small team at the Rocket Chemical Company in San Diego was tasked with a critical mission for the aerospace industry. They needed to develop a line of rust-prevention solvents and degreasers for use in the aerospace sector, specifically to protect the Atlas Missile from corrosion. Because the outer skin of these missiles was incredibly thin and susceptible to rust while sitting in their silos, moisture was a primary threat to national defense. Chemist Norm Larsen led the effort to create a formula that could effectively create a barrier against water, a task that proved much harder than the team initially anticipated.
The name “WD-40” is actually a literal, technical summary of the invention process rather than a catchy brand name. After a relentless series of experiments, the team failed to meet the necessary standards thirty-nine times. Each attempt fell short of providing the perfect protective layer until they finally hit the mark on their fortieth try.
What started as a secret military-grade chemical soon became a global household legend after workers began “borrowing” cans for their own projects at home. The company eventually realized the commercial potential was massive, leading to the product we use today for everything from cleaning tools to loosening stuck zippers. Beyond its thousands of uses, the legacy of WD-40 serves as a quiet reminder that success is often built on a foundation of failure. Every time you spray it, you are benefiting from thirty-nine attempts that didn’t work and the one stubborn chemist who refused to stop at “good enough.”
