Urban Legend

No, it is not October yet. Not Halloween either. Yet when I am done here, you will wish it was.

Charley is my neighbor. We are good friends. We spend time at each other’s house, and often share a cup when we do. I have always admired his coffeemaker, an upscale brand, whose name I will not mention, for good reason.

Yesterday, Charley’s coffeemaker died. No more hot water from the tank in the back. It was expensive, and he and his wife were looking on the Internet when I came over, trying to find a replacement.

They had bought it in 1994  twelve years ago. It was a nice white unit, with light gray and yellow pastel trim. Charley was grousing that all the new models were either jet black or brushed metal.

I asked them about why that brand was so special.

œIt’s the heating tank in the back that makes it so convenient.

œHow so? I replied.

œIt always stays hot, so you can have a fresh cup right away when you make it.

œDoesn’t that cost energy?

œYes, said Erin, Charley’s wife. œWe just looked it up  about $45 a year.

I asked them to show me the coffeemaker, so I could see what they were talking about. We walked from their den, where their iMac was, into the kitchen, where the unit was by the sink, unplugged. A cheap, forlorn little single-cup coffeemaker was sitting next to it  obviously a temporary replacement.

Charley turned the dead coffeemaker around so I could see the back of it. It had a huge tank on the back, probably big enough to hold twenty or thirty cups of water. There was a tiny row of vents at the top edge of the tank with a partial cover over them.

I lifted the unit, but it was heavy. It was still full of water.

œLets take the top off this thing. I said.

œI’m not sure it comes off. He said, but he began pulling at the close fitting plastic cover.

Suddenly, it came off. Inside was a shallow tank wide enough to hold about 12 cups (or so Erin said). In the center was a tiny hole, which would have been just under a duct built into the lid we removed.

œIt works by not heating the water you pour in., said Charley. œInstead, that water activates the heating core in the big tank, and the already hot water is heated a bit more and slowly fills the brewing container above the empty coffee pot below. There is even a spinning nozzle to distribute perfectly the hot water over the grounds.

Charley and Erin were obviously proud of their special coffeemaker, and I didn’t blame them. Their coffee was always good, and full-bodied, with no bitterness.

Erin said, œWe should try to empty that tank, if we are going to give this to Goodwill.

œYeah, those guys can probably fix this, and we still have the box it came it. (Yeah, Charley and Erin were indeed packrats, to have the twelve-year old box in their tidy garage.)

Charley probably figured the tank could only be emptied through the tiny hole we saw when we opened the top of it, so he unceremoniously turned the unit over into the sink.

Sure enough, water began trickling out, making its way to the drain in the middle of their nice, white, ceramic sink.

We all watched for a bit, as the clear water made a tiny stream to the drain.

But then we three were transfixed in growing horror, as we watched other things coming out of that tank in the water. Tiny things. Brown, flat, tiny things. A LOT of brown, flat, tiny things, that looked like they might have once had many short legs – and segments.

Soon, a flood of them came out, stalling the rivulet of water going to the drain, and spreading themselves out over the nice, white porcelain of their kitchen sink. Charley and Erin had had an aquarium in their kitchen all these years, and didn’t even know it.

œAhem, I steadily said, in a low, almost normal voice. œDid the instructions ever talk about changing the water in the tank?

Erin, slightly green, replied after a moment, œNo. Actually, it said we would never have to replace it. The water is always nearly 200 degrees, and would be safe and clean to use.

œSo what has been growing or living in the tank?

œNothing was growing in there! Its just sediment or something! Twelve years is a long time, you know! It COULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN INTO THE COFFEE, RIGHT? Her voice was steadily rising into hysteria.

Charley put his arms around his wife and held her tightly. œIts alright! It’s OK! We haven’t been harmed by any of this. It is plain to see that our coffee was great, and none of this stuff was ever in it. So calm down, and we will buy a different kind of coffeemaker this time  one without a heating tank¦.

œThank God for coffee filters! I thought to myself.

I soon took my leave of those two, thinking there might be a need for some counseling sometime in the near future.

I also vowed to myself NEVER to own a coffeemaker with a handy heating tank  nor would I EVER drink coffee from such a device. Not ever (again)!

YOU don’t own one of these white, fancy, upscale, expensive coffeemakers, right?

Regards,
Roger Born

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