Bar to Torr

Europe adopted metric units broadly in the 19th and 20th centuries, and the bar (100,000 Pa) became the natural metric pressure unit for everyday engineering. The US never metricated, so pounds per square inch persisted. A car tire at 2.2 bar is the same as 32 psi — most modern tire placards list both. If you rent a car abroad and the pump reads bar, just divide your usual psi number by 14.5.

Standard aluminum scuba cylinders are rated to 200 bar (2,900 psi); steel tanks often go to 232 or 300 bar. At 200 bar, the air inside is compressed to 1/200th of its surface volume — a 12-liter tank holds 2,400 liters of breathing gas. Deep technical divers using trimix may use 300-bar steel tanks to maximize bottom time at extreme depths.

Close, but not quite. One bar is exactly 100,000 Pa; one standard atmosphere is 101,325 Pa — about 1.3% higher. The bar was designed as a round-number metric unit, not an exact atmospheric equivalent. For most practical purposes (cooking, tire inflation, diving rules of thumb) the difference is negligible, but in chemistry and calibration work the distinction matters.

Espresso machines run at 9 bar, car tires at 2–2.5 bar, a fire extinguisher at 12–15 bar, a garden pressure washer at 100–150 bar, and a diesel fuel injection rail at up to 2,500 bar. The range from gentle (carbonated water at 2–4 bar) to extreme (waterjet cutting at 4,000+ bar) makes the bar a versatile everyday engineering unit.

The SI only recognizes base and coherently derived units — pressure in SI is strictly the pascal (kg·m⁻¹·s⁻²). The bar is accepted "for use with SI" but is technically an outside unit, like the liter or the hour. The reason it thrives anyway is convenience: 2.2 bar is far friendlier than 220,000 Pa for a tire label, and industry adoption is too deep to reverse.

No — a true 0 torr vacuum is physically impossible. Even the best laboratory cryo-pumps bottom out around 10⁻¹³ torr, where stray molecules still occasionally wander through. Interstellar space is roughly 10⁻¹⁷ torr but still contains a few hydrogen atoms per cubic centimeter. Quantum field theory predicts that even "empty" space seethes with virtual particle pairs, so absolute nothingness does not exist. In practice, engineers define "good enough" vacuum levels for each application — 10⁻³ torr for freeze-drying, 10⁻⁶ for electron microscopes, 10⁻⁹ for particle accelerators.

Because the torr maps neatly to the range of vacuum pressures: rough vacuum is 1–760 torr, medium vacuum 10⁻³–1 torr, high vacuum 10⁻⁶–10⁻³ torr, and ultra-high vacuum below 10⁻⁹ torr. Each regime is a clean power of ten. Expressing the same range in pascals (133,000 down to 0.00000013 Pa) is clumsy. The torr gives vacuum engineers a log-friendly scale that spans thirteen orders of magnitude in tidy notation.

Routine lab turbo-pump systems reach 10⁻⁸ torr. Particle accelerators like CERN's LHC operate at about 10⁻¹⁰ torr — comparable to the vacuum of outer space near the Moon. The lowest laboratory pressure ever achieved is around 10⁻¹³ torr, using cryogenic pumps at liquid-helium temperatures. At that level, a molecule might travel thousands of kilometers before hitting another molecule.

Freeze-drying food and pharmaceuticals operates at 0.1–4 torr. Vacuum-sealed food storage bags pull to about 5–10 torr. Incandescent light bulbs were historically evacuated to ~0.01 torr. Vacuum-assisted braking in cars uses roughly 400–500 torr of manifold vacuum. Even your thermos flask has a vacuum of perhaps 10⁻³ torr between its double walls to block heat conduction.

Boiling point plummets. Water boils at 100 °C at 760 torr (sea level), but at only 25 °C at about 24 torr and at 0 °C at just 4.6 torr. This is how freeze-drying works: reduce pressure to 0.1–1 torr and ice sublimates directly to vapor without ever becoming liquid. Vacuum distillation in chemistry exploits the same principle — heat-sensitive compounds that would decompose at their normal boiling point can be distilled gently at a fraction of the temperature under reduced torr.