Christmas 1997

The year started off with the arrival of a large object at our house. It was necessitated by the sudden and untimely demise of our washing machine. Somehow, a locomotive took up residence in the motor of this antiquarian creature. For the last few weeks of its life, it sputtered and chugged, then finally gave up the ghost and washed no more. Our friend, Eric, the ex-washing machine repairman said the transmission was to blame. Would that be a stick shift or an automatic? I was the lucky roommate chosen to purchase another machine. I found on in the backyard of another washing machine repairman. This one had been entirely rebuilt, he claimed. I saw his "parts department:" the carcasses of 10-15 washing machines that littered his backyard. He wisely advised me to remove and save the working parts of our dead washing machine. Thus it is, that we have begun the American tradition of building our own junk collection. This collection of used lawn mowers, partially functioning bicycles, boxes and other treasures we keep (just in case we need them) in our garage, just like any good American family should. Interestingly, the rebuilt machine is making sounds slightly reminiscent of a locomotive.