Moving My Father's Fridge


I meant to mention that I moved a fridge yesterday. A large 1950s model, my father's old beer fridge, possibly made of steel and porcelain and outweighing my father and myself combined. No way could I budge this baby alone. The fridge could be pushed across the floor easily enough, but getting it up the stairs to the side door was almost swear-inducing. There came a couple of times, especially when the fridge was flat on its back, that we gave up and considered calling in professional help. But we somehow got the refrigerator onto its smooth side (after crushing my father's finger) and slid it up the stairs that way. After rolling it onto its smooth top, it was just a quick drag to the curb.

My father's new beer fridge uses 1/10th the power of his old one, and keeps the beer cooler. Any fridge made after 1994 is efficient enough that one can meet one's personal Kyoto reductions, and then some, just by replacing a pre-1994 fridge. Replacing the 1950s fridge reduces emissions by a new order of magnitude. It will also reduce my parents' power bill by something like $250 per year. Not bad.

I've replaced most of the lights in our house with those new fluorescent bulbs and I've noticed a difference on my own power bill. We don't have a beer fridge in the basement, but our kitchen fridge was made in the days of harvest gold (1976). Replacing it with a new fridge might pay for that new fridge within a couple of years. Something to think about.

My father tells me that the door from his 1950s fridge has vanished from the curb. I wish the new owner of this door well. Better that the metal find use in art than on a scrap heap.

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