She'd Breathed Her Last

As soon as I pass the cattle feed lot, I slow to a cruise, well within the speed limit. There is nothing the town cops like better than handing out a speeding ticket to someone with a Privatopia sticker on their windshield.

I pass the Shell gas station and then the train crossing. There aren't many cars parked on the one-block main strip of this tiny town that includes a biker bar, take-out-pizza shop, a collectibles/antique store (open only on weekends), a small grocery mart, and an eye care store open only on Mondays and Wednesdays, because the doctor and assistants work in other tiny town locations on the other business days.

It is 2 p.m. and the storefront has just reopened. Even though they are only open the two days, they close and lock the door for one hour beginning at 1 p.m., so the three occupants may enjoy their lunch hour uninterrupted.

One of the occupants looks up from opposite side of the room, as I enter. She greets me by name and motions to her desk area.

-Ranell, have a seat. I'll be right with you.

She notices as I glance at the portable electric heater next to her chair.

-I get cold sitting next to the windows.

-The reason it caught my eye is that our furnace died yesterday and we have four portable electric heaters keeping the house warm until Wednesday when they'll install a new one.

-What? Two more days without heat? Oh my gosh! Can't they do it sooner? It's record breaking cold outside. Do you have a fireplace? That's awful. I mean, we keep our thermostat at 70. What's the temperature in your house now?

-We have a fireplace and luckily it's been sunny outside, and I've been baking a lot, so with the electric heaters we're able to keep the house around 66 degrees, but it's a little cooler at night.

-My furnace went out once, when my husband was hunting in Minnesota. I woke up in the middle of the night because I was so cold. I thought I must have left a window or door open. But when I got up I realized the furnace wasn't on. It was 3 o'clock in the morning and I didn't want to call my husband because what could he do anyway? So, I phoned the repair guy and he asked a few questions and talked me through restarting it. He had me take an emery board and flick the flint-thing- I mean, are you sure it can't be fixed?

-About a week ago she began to make noise, like a rattle. So, my husband took a look and decided it was a bad bearing. He called our furnace guy who came out and confirmed it was a bearing in the impeller motor or something. The guy tightened some clamp hoping it would minimize any vibration. The plan was to cross our fingers and hope she could make it until spring when we'd have both the furnace and air-conditioner replaced. We didn't want to put any money into fixing a twenty-year-old furnace. Meanwhile we got a couple of estimates and we waited. But each day she groaned a bit louder. Her rattle became constant, like she was fighting for air-

-Really? Was that what it was like?

-Yup. Then on Saturday evening and all through the night she struggled, waking us a couple of times with loud gasps. Then Sunday, mid-morning, she let out with a death rattle that shook the floorboards. My husband was standing beside the thermostat. I asked, "Is that it? Is she gone?" He nodded. She'd breathed her last.

-Whoa.

-So, anyway we feel fortunate that they'll be out in two days with our brand new, state-of-the-art furnace, featuring a high-efficiency two-stage burner and variable speed blower and with 14,000 more BTUs. And we are now eligible for rebates from ComEd and NiCor for our electric and natural gas use. AND we have a name for her already, Babs, short for "Bad-Ass-Bitch."

The door chime rings and in comes her next customer.

As I leave she looks up from her desk area where she sits with the new customer, "Um, Ranell, I was wondering, did Babs predecessor have a name?"

Artist's Rendition of Babs