"Tink!"

The pipe gave way with a small, metallic “TINK!” It bravely held on for over fifty years, its insides rotten with scale and pieces of the galvanized steel flaking off. This small elbow was located just above the shutoff valve, where the water line comes through the basement wall—its delivery point from the water main out in the street. I’d already cut off the section just above it, but wanted to see if I could just add a new valve to this short piece—after removing the elbow. Nothing doing. I would have to shut off the water out at the meter—located under a small access cover next to the road. I’d already scraped the dirt off the cover, pried it open, and looked inside to see what it was all about. The water company quoted me a fee of fifty-five dollars to shut off the water. It looks to be a fairly simple matter to do it myself, although something that’s probably not officially allowed. I will have to replace the shutoff valve down in the basement—it is ancient and leaking, a quiet drip drip drip. Not enough to flood the basement, but it is trying to tell me that it is tired, like its broken neighbor the elbow. It’s had enough.

Now I know that absolutely every inch of water line will have to be replaced in the house. Not that there was much to begin with; the bathroom took the lion’s share of water usage, of course-with the shower and sink and toilet. Next is the kitchen, with its one outdated sink. There is also a line that runs outside to a faucet near the driveway. And the washing machine has a hot and cold line running to it. At the moment the house is entirely without water, cut off from its supply; the pipes inside dangle for the most part, leading to faucet-less dead-ends. Little by little I am removing the pipes themselves, the horrible-looking steel lines that have been endlessly repaired, fitted to copper here, maybe another steel pipe there. It all has to go.

Tonight I fashioned a large tee-wrench to turn off the valve at the meter out in the street. It should work, if I judged the size of the little screw correctly. I took two pieces of steel tubing, which originally made up the handle of a giveaway lawnmower, and fastened them together with two bolts in the middle. The whole length measures about five feet. Then I heated one end of the round steel tube with the torch and hammered at it until it became somewhat flattened—but not all the way flat. Its oblong opening should fit directly over the shutoff valve, allowing me to turn it with very little effort. At the other end of this tool I drilled a hole completely through, cut off a piece of steel from another mower project, and slid this piece through the drilled holes. This allows for the tee-handle, which will turn the whole thing and hopefully turn off the water without incident. I was tempted to just have the water people come out and deal with this, but the woman on the phone said there was no definite time they would be by, and that it might take a while before they ever came back to turn it back on again. I think I can handle it.