According to Hofmann: The not-so-secret handshakes of our appliances
For the briefest moment in my life in my early 20s, I felt like a genius.
A total genius, really, in terms of being a computer hacker, having inside know-how knowledge and being an auto mechanic all in one simple lesson.
You see, I went to my mechanic uncle with a car problem (because if you have a family member who makes their living using a special set of skills, they’re the ones who are bombarded with questions and requests like mechanics, plumbers, doctors, lawyers and sheepherders).
While I was telling my uncle about the issue, I could see his expression starting to wane to boredom.
I think it was because I described the complex mechanical issue like this: “So, the car started going ‘rhud-rhud-rhud.’ Then I pressed on the gas pedal, and it went ‘ruv-ruv-ruv-ruv,’ but then when I hit the brakes, the car went ‘hubbbble-rubble-wabble’ and a light went on and I heard ‘ding-ding-ding.’ I think it might be the engine.”
My uncle instructed me to sit in my car and turn my key in the ignition three times without starting the engine.
A few seconds later, a series of numbers appeared on my odometer that my uncle had me write down. He had these thick vehicle-diagnostic books in his garage that he cross referenced and found out what was wrong with my car.
(For the record, I was correct in my deduction that the issue was the engine, but would have likely needed to be more specific when heading to the auto-parts store to request a replacement part.)
No matter. I now knew something that many people had no idea about. Of course, many people wouldn’t care to know about how to execute DIY vehicle diagnostics, but I thought it was cool.
Over the years, technology has grown. Now, our vehicles let us know everything thatĢƵ wrong with them like they had some kind of breakthrough in therapy.
I swear, I think my carĢƵ display once indicated that it feels like itĢƵ going to have a “rhud-rhud-rhud’ day. It was then I knew that little nugget of genius that I had received from my uncle was pretty much worthless.
Years and years later — last year, in fact — we bought a new washer and dryer, and after I hooked everything up, I went to open it and found the lid was sealed shut. I looked around for clear tape that I may have missed around the lid or maybe I was sitting on the lid when I was trying to open it, but neither of those things caused the problem.
Since I’m a man and don’t believe in reading the ownerĢƵ manual and because I was sitting on the ownerĢƵ manual, I decided to research the issue on the internet.
After being distracted for 20 minutes by videos of Christopher Walken cooking chicken, I found a video on how to solve the issue.
It seems that the lid has some kind of electromagnetic lock like the vault in the movie “Die Hard.” And, much like Hans Gruber figured out in “Die Hard,” I broke into the washing machine by cutting the power – a.k.a. unplugging the washing machine, waiting five minutes and plugging it back in.
The tip worked like a charm, and I felt that little twinge of genius that I once felt years ago, but it was fleeting because the internet has made it so those little-known tricks are now very well-known.
So well-known, in fact, I swear my search engine knows whatĢƵ broken in my house before I can type it in.
One time, a search for me started with, “How do I fix….” and the internet suggested, “…a running toilet,” “…a damaged window seal,” “…a speeding ticket,” “…a dog in heat,” “…the radiation level of a microwave” and “…a broken heart.”
Scary thing was I was researching all of those. That was a wild weekend.
I think what I’m trying to convey is more of an unexplainable concept about the state of the human condition: we always try to reach the unreachable, explore the unknown and save a few bucks by not having to hire a professional.
My only hope is that this always-evolving technology will be kind to us along the way. I feel very somewhat positive that it will be.
Imagine, if you will, someday your at-home teleportation device malfunctions, but you need to get across the county in five minutes for a meeting and preferably doing so without the malfunctioning machine grafting your arm out of your forehead along the way.
Then, kind of like now, you get the attention of your homeĢƵ virtual assistant for help and present to it your problem.
“ItĢƵ making a ‘hubbbble-rubble-wabble’ sound.”
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, “Good Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One … and Dying, Too” and “Stupid Brain,” are available on Amazon.com.