Why do all our Mechanical Devices Break Down At Once?

I have a friend in the computer business who giggles gleefully whenever there is more news about a breakthrough in “thinking” computers. He apparently can’t wait for the Rise of the Machines and believes it will be a better world when automated logic takes over from questionable human emotion.

I don’t know. I think the “Rise” is already here. Take, for example, how the mechanical and technical devices in our homes communicate with each other in a language we can’t hear and don’t understand. Mostly, they plot about breaking down all at one time just to frustrate their alleged human masters.

We got the bad news earlier this year that our oil burner was on its last legs. It’s got less than a year left, according to the service guy, and it’s pretty much in heater hospice as we figure out how to pay for its replacement. Though disappointed – this is an expense I really don’t need now – I really can’t complain.

The heater is probably more than 30 years old and it has done honorable duty through those more than 30 Pennsylvania winters when it’s been running from pretty much mid-September to late April or early May, at least. Actually, since it’s a summer-winter hook-up and also provides our hot water, it really runs all year long. It’s been a good soldier.

But what I didn’t realize is that the heater was passing the word to the central air conditioner, which is apparently talking to my car, which been making a funny rattling noise for a week or three now. The mastermind behind all these plots, of course, is the toilet. Ever since it began leaking a month or so ago, all of the other appliances, devices and mechanical objects in and around our home have joined the revolution. It always seems to start with the toilet.

We had the central air system installed in our ranch home about eight years ago. This thing has been a nightmare from the start and apparently has had more bad parts than Cameron Diaz. We spent the better part of the first four years getting the system recharged until the installers finally discovered that a condensing coil was leaking.

We also spent a couple years trying to keep the interior vent covers dry during the winter when condensation would form. It damaged parts of the ceiling and I know I am going to have trouble with that down the road when I have to replace the covers. Now I am told that I have to dump another $700 to $800 into it to fix a bad valve in the attic.

I am not going to publicly diss the local company that sold and installed the system, strictly because the technician who came to diagnose the problem this week was a nice and apparently capable guy, but I will say that the system itself has been nothing but a Trane-wreck since they installed it.

This whole thing got me thinking. We pay a lot for things that are supposed to last a long time, but don’t. There are cars on the road that were produced a half-century ago, and they are running like tops while much newer vehicles sit rusting in the boneyards.

Computers are as fickle as my junior prom date and just about as easy to offend, apparently. Clothes wear out faster than ever and they take shoes with them. And don’t get me started on razor blades. I used to be able to use a blade for more than a month; now they don’t seem to last a week before giving me a shave that makes me look like I just came out of nine rounds with Mack the Knife.

It’s called “planned obsolescence.” The theory is that if industry produces things that don’t last as long, we will have to keep buying. That keeps the economy strong and helps create and retain jobs. Uh, yeah. Just look at how healthy and strong the economy and job market are today.

The only thing that’s becoming obsolete faster than the latest laptop is my savings account.