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Sweet Things
Recently, something transpired in our household that reminded me of the old days, when our daughters were smaller.
Our washer broke–started leaking water onto the floor–but that’s not the “sweet thing” referenced in the title.
My husband announced that our girls, 22 and 24, were going to take the machine apart and fix it. Now, over the years, thanks to my husband’s announcements, one or both of the girls have learned some skills I never acquired, or didn’t until much later: driving a manual ATV, changing a tire, cleaning a plugged drain. Even shooting a gun and hunting. But the washing machine was the biggest project yet, and the task was to be done in my husband’s absence. This idea for sisterly bonding was from a guy born with a screwdriver in his hand, and the girls didn’t think they’d be quite as effective at ripping into a machine and comprehending how it worked just by peering into its bowels, but they would give it a go. We all need clean clothes.
I enjoyed witnessing the action without having to participate. Just like the old days, I came out to survey their progress occasionally and laugh at them. There’s something about these young people wielding tools, wandering around, discussing possibilities, and being forced into serious industry for long stretches of time that I find amusing. It brought to mind an old scene of me standing on the back deck as they bent to the task of picking up rocks in the yard while I snickered all too loudly from my comfortable vantage point.
First, the girls and their dad had to wrestle the washer out into the garage. Then, when left to themselves, our daughters worked on dismantling it so they could get to the tub. The problem, so the theory went, was a broken seal, and one of the girls had already found the product booklet and ordered the part. Often when I cracked the garage door to check in on them, I’d see my younger daughter bent down and occupied with something, while my older daughter leaned against the machine to hold something up, presumably. “Annika’s doing most of the work and doesn’t seem to mind,” my eldest said. Other times, the girls were rummaging for a tool. “Nothing’s going to get the back of this thing off, and we’ve looked and looked. Dad has metric mixed up with standard, and we can’t find the part.”
It was one of those projects where you don’t really know what you’re getting into when you elect to start it. Prying off the back, which my husband managed to do later with a crowbar, was just the beginning. It turned out that sixteen years of hard use can make a washing machine gunky inside. Whatever else went into taking the machine apart, I can’t describe, as I was blissfully working at the computer upstairs. And there was the diagnosis: after testing with water, a crack in the tub was discovered. Then an exciting few minutes when Annika thought we were making a trip to Lowe’s to pick out a new machine, and they would be able to skip the step of cleaning the buildup both around and in the tub. Alas, after some thought, my husband decided he could patch the thing. So getting rid of the gunk had to commence.
Just when you think you’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel is when you have the most serious work to do. The longest part of the process was putting the machine back together after my husband got the tub patched and let it dry. The girls were sequestered in the garage for hours one afternoon. It was quiet, so of course I had to go inspect their work and see how they were getting along. My older daughter, as usual, was the gopher and brace, while Annika did the re-assembly, if you could call it that. The process for them was more like putting together a puzzle, seeing what fit where and how it went together. Then finally, they finished and I hoped to get a load of towels washed soon.
But first, my husband had to look over their work. “Hmm,” he said. “They’re not really technical. That’s okay, not everyone is.” Then, “This is going to have to be done a different way, and this” (indicating an item in a box with several leftover parts) “is going to have to be put back in.”
Eventually, with more fiddling and all three of them together in the garage, the machine was ready. They hauled it back into place and tested it by washing the rag towels and clothes they had used to sop up the water that had spilled on the garage floor during their efforts. And today, after removing the clean rags and wiping off the garage dirt from the inside of the tub, I enjoyed the privilege of washing my load of towels and washcloths. It worked just fine. I don’t know about the washing machine, but I’m ready for another sixteen years.
Published in Family
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Well done to all! But having replaced washer and dryer after a move I’ll urge you to never get rid of that one. New ones are full of software and boards and meet special water regulations and I’ll wager could not be repaired by even a motivated team like yours. And the kicker is – my new ones don’t clean as well as my 12 year old set left in the old house. If I have kids in the house with actual dirty play clothes i’d be really cranky. The sweaty athletic clothes are bad enough.
Good job by all – everyone doing what they do best, including Mom.
I remember the first time I rebuilt my motorcycle engine – without a shop manual. My stepfather swore it would never run again, but it started up right away. He was amazed.
Fast forward a couple weeks to when I went back to the Honda shop for some parts. The parts guy asked me how the rebuild went.
“Great,” I replied. “I didn’t even need the shop manual.”
“Humph,” he said. “Did you check to make sure you put the piston rings in correctly?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a tiny Z on one side of the rings. That should be on top.”
I went home and tore the motor down again. Sure enough, I had put the rings in upside-down. I reinstalled them correctly and reassembled the motor. Fired right up . . .
Amen.
One chore for the girls that Sawatdeeka forgot to mentions was the the time that this horrified grandma came upon the then-preteen girls using the gas powered wood splitter.
That looks like a bunch of parts from old flintlock guns (or replicas). Gotta be a story there…
Very good! Not much of a story though. Just an assortment I found online.
Sounds like the @drbastiat daughters might have learned a thing or two from them.
My daughters also are not discouraged by a challenge.
Younger daughter just recently repaired her broken dryer.
If there is a critical mass of young women like these there is hope.
Except to the extent they might start to believe they can live a happy single life forever, without needing anyone else.
Oh, they are both married, and we have two delightful grandsons, one from each, so far.
A young woman with practical skills is a better catch than one with a goat as a dowery.
Okay, but, I was referring to the other direction.
Does anyone else wonder what a wedding card from kedavis would look like?
The front page would have a picture of a cop beating up a married couple
It would have detailed divorce statistics and a discussion of items commonly forgotten in prenuptial agreements.
Great story and whatever else happens in your daughters’ lives, they will always realize they have abilities they didn’t think they possessed to challenge and survive unexpected difficulties.
As far as the new washing machine idea: try not to go there.
We replaced our 25 yr old machine in 2020. It had a Maytag repair guy show up once or twice over its lifetime.
And my spouse figured out a few problems here and there, and he managed to get those repaired.
But eventually we decided the thing was giving out.
So we got a new-fangled, energy efficient machine.
That washing machine needed a service call eleven months into its presence in the utility room. (Glad it was at the eleventh month mark when the warranty still held forth, and not at month thirteen.)
I suspect it won’t last much longer than the “energy efficient” refrigerator that we bought in 2015. That appliance conked out 6 years later. Luckily the landlord had never gotten around to taking the old fridge to the dump. It was still faithfully sitting there in the garage waiting for us to re-up its service for our household. So that is the 27 year old fridge purring in the background as I write this. The newer model is at the dump.
I’ve heard/read that the new Speed Queens are supposed to be very good. Especially if you get a commercial model that may not be available at”big box” stores, you have to go to a more serious dealer. But they may not make fridges.
Meanwhile my Frigidaire side-by-side and separate upright freezer are doing fine, it’s been I think at least 12 years now.