The Cash Boy's Room "Air Conditioner"

I cut my hand foolin' with the weed eater yesterday. Before applying bandage I washed the cut out real good and then gave it a dose of rubbing alcohol. The smell of isopropyl alcohol exploded in my memory. I laughed out loud and realized I had a fond memory to share with you all.

All of the Cash boys slept in one bedroom, the boy's room. Back then there was no such thing as "air-conditioning" in our house, just a big old box fan. Although we had the fan's locations down to a science, it still lacked in the hotter parts of the day. And being the junkers we were, it was only a matter of time until we found something "new" to help us in our quest for a cooler bedroom.

My oldest brother Cole was painting houses that summer and came home with a fantastic looking contraption, probably as part of his pay. It was a small evaporative (swamp) cooler that fit in a window. There is no doubt in my mind they were made to look like refrigerated air window units, ( for the benefit of the neighbors) but it was merely a swamp cooler. A small reservoir in the bottom held water that was pumped to run down over the packing; and as the fan sucked the air through the packing evaporation took place and the air that exited was cooler. A heck of lot damper, but cooler. There was something wrong with the motor when Cole got it, but a quick disassembly, some electrical tape and 3 in 1 Oil and it seemed to gin along pretty good.

Cole put it in the window closest to his bed (of course) and did his best to scare Holden and me with fear of a whoopin' if we messed with his stuff. Yeah, right.

Seeing how our eighty year old grandmother stayed with us we were all well versed with rubbing alcohols magical powers. At least once a day one of us was corralled into rubbing Granny's feet rubbing alcohol. A disgusting chore for a young boy, but a necessity. You did not say no to Granny.

It didn't take long for Holden and me to arrive at a theory that rubbing alcohol running through the cooler would make it a helluva lot colder than just water. And seeing how we were always the ones that were sent to the Rexall for Granny's supplies, we knew exactly where the isopropyl was at and how much it cost. The plan was hatched. We got back from the drug store with two grocery sacks full of rubbing alcohol. A small investment no doubt, but innovation requires capital. We split the expense. I don't really remember trying to hide what we were up to, but we did choose a time that most near everybody else in the Cash Clan was pretty much somewhere else. Quickly we drained what little water was in Cole's little window cooler and we started pouring rubbing alcohol into the hole in the cabinet designated "FILL".

The unit had two switches; one for the pump only and one for the fan. It had a larger knob labeled "Off-Lo-Hi". Holden turned the pump on to get the pads full of alcohol. The smell was thick. After a few moments Holden solemnly said "here goes.." and flipped the fan switch to "Hi".

To this day we're not sure exactly what happened. But apparently the switch had some exposed contacts, or the starting capacitor for the fan had something that sparked. Whatever it was didn't matter, it happened. We immediately heard a loud "WHUMP" and the packing pad blew off the rear of the unit. Hot air shot out the front and we quickly realized that the thing was on fire. Alcohol flames are difficult to see at times, but we were pretty sure the thing was on fire as we watched the pretty plastic grill on the front starting to droop and melt. Holden threw up the window sash and, with a not-so-gentle nudge, the cooler took a dive to ground outside of the bedroom window.

Granny was trying to say something to both of us as we ran through the house to get outdoors to put out the fire. We ignored her. We were in a hurry. Cash boys know how to put out fires. We were good at it.

A quick soaking with the garden hose put out the fire. Unless Pops was looking for something he probably wouldn't see the burnt grass. Cole, on the other hand, might actually neuter Holden and me with his Boy Scout knife; he threatened us daily with it. Once again we had started off with a great idea and wound up staring at a smoking pile of junk...wondering how we were going to explain what happened.

On a good note, we had lots of alcohol left for Granny's feet.