This is a brief anecdote on how yesterday’s laundry morphed into today’s tense, once-a-decade plumbing maintenance task, replacing the water-hammer arresters installed with my clothes washer.
Listen to the rhythm of the gentle bossa nova
It all started out innocently enough.
In the prior post, I admitted to being a bit slow, at the moment, owing to my under-consumption of stimulants. So, as I was not getting much done yesterday. I decided to do some laundry. That takes up some time and accomplishes something, without being mentally or physically taxing.
For maybe the first half-hour, I enjoyed the far-off sound of the laundry equipment chugging and ticking away. Somehow I feel as if I personally was getting something done, even though the equipment was doing the work.
The catchy, staccato rhythms of the washing machine are so homey and soothing. Put you feet up, cruise the internet, relax. I can’t really start another task because, hey, I’ll have to go tend to the laundry soon. Guilt-free-chill time.
… (Time passes)
It only took me a half an hour to realize that those washing-machine noises were a lot louder than I remembered. And maybe just a bit too rhythmic.
It finally dawns on me that I’m listening to pipe knock from water hammer created by the clothes washer. The rhythmic sound I’m hearing is the result of the cold water valve cycling on and off during the rinse cycle, followed by the cold-water pipes boinging back-and-forth, wherever.
Water hammer is an unambiguously bad thing. A moving column of water (in a pipe, say), has kinetic energy. By law, that energy must go somewhere when the column stops. In a house, it goes into moving the pipes. The more abrupt the stop — such as the closing of a solenoid-driven valve in a washer — the more abrupt the transfer of energy, and the bigger the “hammer” effect (all other things equal). The moving pipes bang into stuff, which is not good in the long run. And it induces wear-and-tear on the washing machine valves.
Water hammer, in home plumbing, unchecked, will eventually break something. If not your water pipe, then your washing machine. That’s what they say, and I believe them. In effect, I’ve been enjoying the pleasant sound of my washing machine beating my water pipes (and itself) to death. Eventually.
Too bad the builder didn’t do a better job with the pipes. I really hate having to pay for other people’s mistakes.
… (Time passes)
Another half-hour, and I realize the water hammer is my fault and needs to be fixed. Plausibly, I’m hearing this now because my water-hammer arresters have finally worn out. Those are more-or-less little shock absorbers for your pipes, and used a captive bit of air and a piston to soak up the force of the water hammer before it bangs your pipes around. Those water hammer arresters have been in place since I had this washer installed about 15 years ago. They are long overdue for replacement.
I need two of these gizmos. One for the hot water hose, one for the cold water hose, feeding the clothes washer.
Source: Home Depot, cited just above.
… (Time passes)
And it only takes another hour for me to figure out that I should replace the washing machine hoses as well. Installed with the water hammer arresters, they are now pushing 15 years old, or about three times their rated safe lifetime. Unlike your garden hose, say, these hoses are under house water pressure constantly. You really don’t want one of those to burst. Which they may do, when they get old.
The full fix.
So now it’s one of those should-be-easy-but-potentially-white-knuckle plumbing repairs.
All the required parts connect together without tools. The hoses, arresters, and valves are put together with fittings similar to what you’d see on a garden hose. But better quality. They all use garden hose thread (GHT), either male (MHT) or female (FHT). (At least they do here, YMMV.)
You tighten them hand-tight*. Maybe give them a small fraction of a turn beyond hand-tight using a weakly-held set of water-pump pliers. Never use a tool to tighten the fitting (the female exterior bit) all the way to tight, as in, can’t move. That’s not how they work, and if you do, you’ll screw them up. That’s what they say and I believe them.
* being careful not to cross thread them on (e.g.) the plastic MHT fittings on the back of the washer. GHT is not like pipe thread. It doesn’t get progressively harder to turn, like pipe thread. Properly aligned, it should turn several full turns with just a light finger grip. It stops when male, gasket, and female meet, not when the threads dictate.
So, about $100 and two fun-filled hardware store trips later, and I have the parts I need.
These, I have laid atop my honored and increasingly venerable Speed Queen washer. Long may she live.
Because I have a non-standard setup, this fix depends on a) the water shutoffs for those pipes working, and b) about half-a-dozen GHT joints coming cleanly apart, after being connected for close to 15 years.
It’s old plumbing. I expect something to go wrong. Perhaps catastrophically wrong. Perhaps not. I just have no clue what, and how serious it will be.
I’m phobic about it, to be honest. Plumbing disasters feature prominently in my literal nightmares.
But today, Cloacina, the Roman goddess of plumbing, smiles upon me. All goes as well as I could hope. Little water is on the floor. Nothing obviously drips. A test load demonstrates that the pipes have gone quiet, at least for the time being.
Cloacina willing, I’ll revisit that no sooner than half-a-decade from now.
