The wood stove

Yesterday I sold our wood stove. It was a homemade stove, made by the guy who sold us our house. We used it for 17 winters with no problems but the insurance company said it did not meet new regulations. That left us with the choice of remodeling the room the stove was in to give it enough clearance space or removing the stove. As much as I enjoy home repair, remodeling the room was out of the question.

Thursday the “for sale” ad ran in the Kalona News and the Wellman Advance. I really didn’t think anyone would want to buy it and figured I might just have to haul the stove to a scrap dealer and take whatever I could get.

Thursday I left to drive the IMS baseball team to Des Moines for their second round game. Unfortunately they lost and we returned on Friday afternoon. I stepped into the house and heard the phone ringing.

Now think Pennsylvania Dutch accent. “Are you the one who has a wood stove for sale?” “Yes.”

“Could you tell me a little bit about it because I might be interested?” Why else did you call I thought to myself as I noticed my wife had already taken two messages about the stove.

The stove is 30” wide, 36”deep and about 25” high. It is made of 3/8 inch steel, it is homemade, and it is heavy.

In a Dutchy accent, “well, I might be interested, I was thinking about making my own, but then I saw your ad, and well, I thought, maybe I could look at it sometime, and then I wouldn’t have to make my own. Now does it have any cracks?”

No, no cracks (I think a small bomb could have been detonated in the stove without any problems)

“So it’s not warped?” No, it’s in good shape.

“So why are you selling it?” I explained about our insurance company.

“Well, I think I would like to look at it sometime but I don’t know when I can get there” (Neither did I, as I realized I hadn’t used the bathroom since stopping the bus at the Colfax-Mingo exit about 3 hours ago.)

“So where do you live.” I gave directions. “Do your parents live around here?” Yes, (but they aren’t the one’s selling the stove) “Well, I might want to stop over, but I’m not sure when I can make it, but I may chust drive over there tomorrow if you are going to be around and it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.” Finally Nelson hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, another phone call, another Dutchy accent, and more questions about the stove. I figured I better clean the stove because much to my surprise people seem to be interested in the thing. Six buckets of ashes later the stove was more or less clean. I thought I better figure out how to dismantle the stove from the stove pipe and discovered the pipe was welded to the stove. I crawled onto the roof and pulled apart what I could. What remained looked like one solid piece all the way to the stove, some 12 to 15 feet. I realized it might require a cutting torch or some other tool I don’t own, so I called a friend who has such things and left a message. In the meantime more phone calls from men, all with the Dutchy accent and with names like Samuel, Nelson, Menno, or Norman.

6:30 Saturday morning the phone rang. I was still asleep. “Do you have the stove for sale?” I figured this guy was Amish, especially after he told me he had a ride to Wellman to visit the chiropractor. Samuel said he planned to stop in after his treatment, around 9:15 or so.

An hour later my friend with the cutting torch arrived. The question was how to cut the pipe and hold it in place so it wouldn’t drop to the floor and hurt someone or break something. While a crane would be nice I couldn't afford one. We resorted to 2 x 4’s and rope backed up by a log chain.

Another phone call about the stove and if we still had it. My wife told him someone was coming around 9:15. This guy asked if it would be okay to come right away. Wayne Ray showed up about 20 minutes later, a bit before 9:00. I had guessed he was a Beachy, or some sort of conservative Mennonite so I wasn't surprised to see his wife in a cape dress with a big covering on her head. After a thorough examination Wayne Ray said, “I think I would like the stove, but would you be willing to consider taking a little less?” I was about ready to answer when the doorbell rang and there was Samuel the Amish man, “Have you sold the stove yet?” Wayne Ray said, “I’ll give what you asked for.” I suppose I could have asked Samuel if he would raise the price but I was just happy to be rid of it, plus Wayne had a truck to move the stove.

What followed was some hard work as I recruited my neighbor, Wayne called his brother-in-law, and along with my cutting torch friend, we got the stove out of the house and onto his truck. He had a forklift at home he could use to unload the stove.

It took me the rest of the day to clean up the mess and to patch the roof so it won’t leak. The next task is to find a wood stove which meets the regulations so that we can heat that part of the house and keep the insurance company happy.