Plain and simple, we are murderers.
Good intentions aside, we kill refrigerators. We, Jen and I, should not be allowed to have a refrigerator. Well, we can have refrigerators as long as they are new and boring, easy to maintain and to find replacement parts for. We just can’t have cool vintage fridges.
It is not that we are bad people. It is just that we are curious — no that’s not right. It’s just that we are confident enough in ourselves to attempt stuff we probably shouldn’t attempt. Naturally curious, Jen is not afraid to take anything apart in attempts to repair. She usually researches the project, and therefore makes the repair the correct way. She is pretty smart, too, which helps.
Me, I am just cheap. Why pay top dollar to have an expert fix something the right way, when you can pay only a few bucks for a part, get a few electrical shocks and fix it, satisfactorily, yourself? The advent of the World Wide Web information boom has only emboldened us. Before this electronic revolution, my resources were hardcover books. I still have the books, some from the 1950s, but I only open them to look at the cool, dated pictures of people and projects and not to read the straightforward writing.
With the help of on-line ‘groups? like Appliantogoly and Fix It Yourself, I have had success in diagnosing and fixing a number of problems with our 14-year-old clothes dryer. Austin Jowers from www.antiqueappliances.com is walking me through how to figure out why the oven of our vintage 1940s-50s Coolerator Electric Range isn’t working. So, we’ve had luck on doing it ourselves.
Not so with real cool, vintage refrigerators. A few years ago, Jen killed the first one we had. It was big and black, with lots of chrome and worked like a champ. But, as it was older (excuse me, vintage) ice used to build up inside. As she had done on a number of occasions, Jen manually de-iced it.
One evening, she was chip, chip, chipping away at the ice with a screwdriver and hammer and . . . well, after a few cuss words, all we could do is watch as our fridge died. We watched as its life-force slowly hissed away from a teeny-weenie pinhole. Jen tried to have the hole in the freon coil fixed, but it just wouldn’t work. Rest in peace, Cool Vintage Refrigerator #1.
A few weeks ago we bid on and won a 1954-55 Frigidaire Imperial Cyclamatic refrigerator. It’s big and white, with lots of chrome. The insides are a cool, sea-green color with gold trim. Complete with a series of chutes, it even has an automatic egg dispenser on the door. The only problem with Cool Vintage Refrigerator #2 was the handle was broken — it worked, but it was cracked.
Mr. Do It Yourself (alias Cheap Skate Rush) consulted with his friend (we’ll call him Tom), and it was determined we could fix that handle. ‘Tom? is a metal working kind-of-guy. He goes to blacksmithing seminars and classes and makes all sorts of metal things. He has lots of hammers, metal files, a forge and not one, but two anvils. He’s the man!
This past Sunday was the day of the big fix. I took the chrome handle, now in two pieces, over to ‘Tom’s? for the repair. ‘Make sure you stop by the hardware and pickup a brazing rod,? ‘Tom? told me. I complied, not really knowing what I was purchasing — after all I am a word smith, not a blacksmith.
With the aid of different files, ‘Tom? meticulously cleaned the break areas. ‘There, that looks good,? ‘Tom? said. He wired the two pieces together and proclaimed, ‘Let’s fire up the forge.?
We stoked the black coal and coke, got the fire good and hot and placed the handle in the heat. ‘Tom? placed said brazing rod on the first part of the handle we were to fix. That’s when a yellowish smoke started to rise from Cool Vintage Refrigerator #2’s handle. ‘You don’t want to breathe that,? ‘Tom? explained. By the time we backed away, there was a flash and a good two inches off both pieces of the handle were gone. Poof! Vanished.
In a voice a few octaves higher than normal ‘Tom? nervously said, ‘I guess that wasn’t iron.?
‘No, I guess not.?
We fished out the now useless handle pieces and looked at them. Somewhere, it occurred to me that I remembered dear wife Jen telling me the handle was probably made of ‘pot metal.? Pot metal, for those who don’t know, is an alloy of inexpensive, low-melting point metals used to make fast, inexpensive castings for toys, tool parts, automotive parts and accessories. Key words there: low-melting point.
Oops.
I guess ‘technically? Cool Vintage Refrigerator #2 isn’t dead. It still works fine. It’s only been days since the unfortunate accident, and while a screwdriver is a handy tool to open the fridge, it’s getting old quick.
Parts for this fridge are not easily found. So, unless I can find, or fabricate some sort of handle, I have for all practical purposes, killed Cool Vintage Refrigerator #2. Strike one, Jen. Strike two, Don. I don’t know if we can bear a strike three.
I guess I can go on-line and try to figure out how to fabricate a replacement part . . . unless somebody out there has a better idea. If you don’t call me, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to be associated with a fridge killer, either.
E-mail Don, dontrushmedon@charter.net