BRIAN SMITH is the same Brian Smith of (the former) SMITH AND BARBER, THE MORNING SHOW on WPLR… his (former) solo afternoon talk show on WICC 600AM, and (the once) host announcer for the Bridgeport Bluefish baseball and the Fairfield University Stags basketball games at Harbor Yard… and more recently… part of the team at (the now defunct) FM NEWS NEW YORK 101.9FM in New York City… you can email him at:
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DUST BUSTER BUSTED… this is why I shouldn’t be allowed in a china shop… or a glass factory… or even near a vacuum cleaner…
I cleaned my car this week… and used my long-lasting, high-horsepower version, my familiar sucky friend… my Dust Buster… on the rugs and on the pieces of McDonald’s French Fries that got stuck between the seats and the hump. I brought the Dust Buster back inside… careful, as I said to myself… NOT to break this one, like others have been destroyed before.
I put the Dust Buster gingerly on a shelf near my door, as I put the bag of stuff (when you clean a car, you always bring a bag of stuff back into the house. It contains: to-go window receipts for coffee, a bent pair of sunglasses, a smudgy baseball cap, an ancient wet-nap from some forgotten lunch, and stuck-together pennies)…
Of course, when I went back to shut the door, I knocked the Dust Buster off the shelf.
It hit the floor and fell apart in approximately the way you see in the picture. EVERY PIECE that could come apart, came apart. It looked like the parts description page in the manual. It disassembled perfectly.
All the dirt and french fry bits also went all over the floor… which meant I had to bring in another vacuum to clean up the mortal remains of the busted Dust Buster. I swore so loud and so much I’m still waiting for the legal notice from my neighbors.
I was distraught… mad… pissed off at my self for doing exactly what I tried not to do, break ANOTHER appliance… I picked up the pieces and surveyed the damage with that “I can fix this” set of eyes we all get after the initial disaster. All the pieces seemed to be in one piece… just apart from every other piece.
Unfortunately, the motor sounded like what I would imagine a car’s fan sounds like when an unfortunate squirrel sleeps in the engine on a cold night and wakes up for his last time in the morning. “Thwap… grrrnd… GRNNNND… thwap thwap… etc”
I swore again, and put all the pieces into a bag and threw it into the garbage can with the motion of Nolan Ryan throwing a fastball… I was proud I wouldn’t spend a couple of days, like I usually do, trying to fix something that will never, ever, go back together the way it came apart… when a replacement can be had for under thirty bucks. Done. Finished. I’ve grown up. A moment of mourning and then on to the next thing to break.
Not done yet. Of course. Yesterday, I went back and got the plastic bag with the Dust Buster pieces out of the garbage. I’m going to try to fix it. Just once. I swear.