Saga of the Microwave from Hell!
When you have your first
new born and you want to
be a good dad.
July 1956
Dorothy Hapon,
September, 1954
at Athabasca Falls.
Mom had just turned 21.
Peter Hapon on a road
trip with his mom -- my
grandmother.
Our microwave stopped working. The
fuse was blown.
After considerable searching and
phoning, I determined that the best
way to buy fuses for our microwave
was by way of Amazon. They were
expensive, though: about $2 each.
After I replaced the fuse, the
microwave worked for a time
before, again, it overloaded the
fuse. For some time, I kept
replacing fuses and tried to figure out
what was happening. Research suggested
that the problem was likely one or more of
the micro-switches in the door. I tested,
and it seemed that all the switches were
working fine. Unable to determine which
one was causing the problem, I bought all
three. They were really expensive.
At first, the new switches worked, but
that didn’t last. I bought a lot of fuses.
It seemed that the fuse blew when the
door was opened. OR closed.
We tried closing the door really fast
(SLAM!), and we tried jerking the door
open quickly.
Whatever we tried, we were tricked
by the evil microwave into believing
we had found a cure.
We never found a cure.
Eventually, I had to surrender. The
microwave is gone and a huge fan is in
its place. We bought a small
microwave, since we usually don’t cook
anything substanctial -- just a cup of
coffee or a plate of left-overs.
So much money was spent that I
could have just bought a new one,
which, eventually, I had to do anyway.
Damned microwave.
