SLIGHTLY OFF THE
MARK
This has been the fourth year out of
the last five when my furnace didn’t want to work in the fall. Who can blame
it, really? My internal energy source also goes out this time of year.
My house is heated by water—not
steam, but hot water that circulates through radiators. Downstairs it’s the
nicest, most even heat I’ve ever had. On the second floor … well, it doesn’t
get to the second floor. It used to. There’s one radiator up there, and it
compares to the others the way a weak early January sun compares to a clear
August day when the sun strips your skin off.
My furnace dates back to the mid
70’s. According to my research, that makes the boiler just middle aged, by hot
water furnace standards. But I’m also middle aged, and some days I can barely
make it down the stairs to where the heat is. Has my furnace been eating donuts
for breakfast, ice cream for lunch, and Mountain Dew for supper, the way I did
before my wife beat me into submission? Is it possible it needs … I don’t know …
maintenance? (For those who don’t know, maintenance is that stuff other people
do in their homes. I’ve been meaning to try it.)
Speaking as a person who once had a
sink trap explode in his face, I feel very strongly that my best approach to
home heating systems is to not touch them. Still, there are times when I’ve had
to, and those times usually ended badly.
In the spring I have to shut the
furnace down, which isn’t much of a problem. Power equipment often shuts down
when I touch it.
In the fall I have to start it up,
and that’s where the trouble begins. Starting the pilot light? That involves
natural gas, and matches, and me. I’m pretty good at putting out fires, but I’m
also pretty good at self-first aid, and I’d rather not do either in my own home.
I used to wear eye protection when lighting the pilot, but after thinking about
it I’ve taken to putting on a full face mask. People look ridiculous without
eyebrows. Also, I’ve had this mustache for forty years … that’s my longest
successful relationship.
About half the time the pilot, after
lighting just fine, refuses to stay lit. Cursing doesn’t help. That usually
means I have to replace something called a thermocouple, or thermalcouple, or
thermoscoffee, or something like that. By which I mean someone else has to
replace it. I try to cycle through all my family members, so they don’t get too
tired of me.
This item apparently—and I’m just
guessing here—couples things thermally. Once it’s up and running we proceed to
stage two, which is figuring out what else doesn’t work. Once it was some
doodad electrical thingy on the side of the furnace, which apparently does …
something. But, when it’s not the pilot light, it’s usually the thermostat.
I just had my thermostat replaced
for the third time. This is apparently unusual, which makes me wonder what I’m
doing wrong. (Could it be it’s not my fault? Maybe, but I gotta go with the
odds.)
This year the pilot started just
fine, with no burned hair smell in the basement. Then I turned on the
thermostat and—surprise!—the heat kicked right on. It heated the place up to 68
degrees, then kicked off. Then didn’t come back on again.
Naturally, I checked the pilot
light, which was just fine. It was the only warm place in the house. Being a
methodical person, I then went to the thermostat and dialed it all the way back
and forth about twenty times. The heat came back on, and I declared to everyone
who would listen that I had fixed the problem.
You take your victories where you
can get them.
Then it shut back off, leaving me
faced with the challenge of turning the thermostat like a ship’s wheel every
time we needed heat. In the dead of winter, in a house that old, that would
mean duct taping myself to the wall at night so I could set an alarm and reach
over to twist the heat on every half an hour.
I’m not sure that old wall would
hold me, and the dog already thinks I’m crazy as it is.
So I spun what I call my 911 Wheel:
brother, dad, step-dad, coworker, stranger on the street who seems to have some
mechanical aptitude … and it landed on my son-in-law. He’s a mechanical genius,
quite capable of fixing or maintaining anything. When I win the lottery I plan
to make him my chief engineer, if he’ll let me call him “Scotty”. I just don’t
know if he can do the accent.
In theory there’s a happy ending:
Thanks to him we now have a working heat source in our home, outside of
building a fire in the bathtub. (Not that I’ve ever done that—and by the way,
pull the shower curtains away, first.)
But now I have a programmable
thermostat. In theory, that’s an improvement.
In practice … now I have something
that can break down mechanically and
electronically.
Yeah. Don't touch the radiator.
ReplyDeleteWe have a tray on top of the radiators, which holds water to help humidify the house. Sitting on the lid of that tray during winter is actually one of the nicest places in the house.
DeleteI would be perpetually confused trying to figure out things like furnaces.
ReplyDeleteMy dad, on the other hand, finds such things easy.
Same here. Much as I love writing, it's not the most practical job in the world.
DeleteI've never heard of a furnace that uses water for heat. Interesting. I would never attempt to light the pilot light or even change a filter.
ReplyDeleteRadiators? Interesting again. I can, however, open and close heat vents with little effort.
It's pretty much just like steam, only hot water instead ... as for the pilot light, I learned from necessity!
Delete