“Furnace Freeze, Part One"

c. 2019 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-19)

Three o’clock in the morning.

I had gotten up at midnight. With an immediate sensation of cold after throwing aside my comforter. There was frost on the front window. I shivered while cursing. Wrangler, cheerful guardian of the house and representative of the Labrador Retriever breed, lay snoring in his corner. In the dark, I found my glasses. Then, pondered for the 1,000th time that our home furnace was hopelessly broken. With the bluster of winter approaching, and the air at 29 degrees, we were sunk. I had one small electric heater, purchased at Kmart, almost two decades ago. And a backup capability of warmth from the burners on my kitchen stove. Little comfort when facing the season ahead. But tonight, those two would be enough for the journey toward sunrise.

I was disabled and retired. But never defeated.

My friend Janis had been sending text messages since 9:30 last night. Insomnia made her a weary companion. Each of us was glad for the other, though sad when peering through the fog of fatigue. We had met yesterday for Chinese food, in Mentor-on-the-Lake. I needed to visit Home Depot for clues to resolving my heating crisis. The day went quickly. But not our night that followed.

She had developed a sleep disorder after being hospitalized, in Cleveland, a month ago. Meanwhile, I was wallowing in grief over my hot-box in the front hallway.

The furnace was a Coleman unit, manufactured in 2000. The last of its particular model run. A DGAT070BDF. Three different repair calls yielded a trio of diagnoses. The first was a professional kid who charged $110 to teeter on his half-sized ladder, and opine that the ‘roof jack’ (furnace pipe) needed replacement. He added that this would be impossible because those parts were no longer on the market. Out of reach for his company. When I asked for advice, he suggested spending $3500 on a completely new system. A declaration that made me snort and shake my head in disbelief. The second opinion came from a maintenance fellow who worked for my last employer. After an evening of cleaning, testing, prodding, and pounding on the metalwork tower, he concluded that the control board might need to be updated. An expensive shot-in-the-dark that could solve the problem or simply deepen my gloom. A third technician happened to be the nephew of a long-time neighbor. He performed a bit of exploratory surgery on the big device, using a mirror-tool to look inside. His conclusion was brief and direct, that the heat exchanger had cracked. It was likely time to replace everything. This judgment brought me back to a mood of befuddlement and dismay over the prohibitive cost.

I warmed myself in the kitchen. It would be a long wait until morning.

Janis continued her own restless struggle, to the north by Lake Erie. She tapped out messages with a desperate edge on each word of her story. Apparently, episodes of ‘The Golden Girls’ were keeping her entertained as she fretted over still being awake. I tried to offer some sympathy.

After four hours, the kitchen had finally warmed to a temperature that felt appropriate for being inside.

Surprise added to the glow of heat in the air. An Internet search revealed that my Coleman furnace had been subject to a recall in the past, apparently in 2004. I cringed when reading the details:

“The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission, in cooperation with the manufacturer… today announced the voluntary recalls of the following consumer product. Consumers should stop using recalled products immediately unless otherwise instructed… These furnaces can overheat, causing heat-exchanger cracking, burn-through and, in extreme cases, furnace wrapper burn-through. This can lead to heating and possible burning of the drywall and other combustibles adjacent to the furnace, which poses a fire and smoke hazard to consumers.”

It also said that the units affected were approximately 226,000 in number.

I had been using the Coleman calefactor regularly since 2002. It came as original equipment in my pre-fab home. No notice of a recall had ever been delivered here, so I remained unaware of any catastrophic issues associated with its use. The unit was serviced regularly by an HVAC specialist from Ashtabula, named Tom. A man who proved able to keep the system in working order while being gentle to my wallet.

With more investigation, I found that the recall had been repeated in 2012 due to persistent reports of home fires burning out of control:

“York International is re-announcing the recall of… Coleman, Coleman Evcon and Red T gas furnaces for manufactured homes due to more than 300 incident reports since the 2004 recall involving the furnaces, which can overheat, posing a fire hazard. York International has received reports of 393 incidents, including some involving extensive property damage… manufactured between 1995 and 2000, the recalled furnaces includes about 223,600 in the U.S. and 2400 in Canada.”

Tom passed away in 2016. I was lucky not to need service on the DGAT, until now.

My Black Lab was content to lie down on the office floor, in our back bedroom, while my search concluded. Five hours had elapsed since I awakened. The house was, at last, a livable space without frost on the countertops.

I texted my friend in Saybrook Township. But she did not answer. Seemingly, her sleepless night had finally come to an end. A blissful slip into the netherworld of morning rest. Late, but no less satisfying. At the computer, I finished a writing project, and then decided to return to bed.

It had been a productive, if cold, night in November.

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