CARLTON FLETCHER: Even a certified firestarter can’t beat a good HVAC unit

Come on, baby, light my fire.

— The Doors

Many times, old-school can be the best school. Let me explain.

With the surprising cold weather that settled into the area last Wednesday and has remained for a week giving southwest Georgia the closest thing to a winter it’s had in a decade or so, we figured it was time to turn off the AC unit that had carried us through the sweltering summer and turn on the heater for what we figured would be a night or two before things returned to “normal.”

But a funny thing happened on the way to warming up that Thanksgiving Eve. The heating unit, which had served us well for the time we’d owned our home, started running for a couple of minutes and then shutting off. I did my best handyman impression by turning the fan to Auto and On a couple of times, but the dang thing kept cutting off.

Tara called a gentleman who had worked on the HVAC unit twice before, providing seasonal service only, as we’d had no issues with the unit, and after a thorough inspection, he told us, essentially, that our unit was dead. He went on to say that with the damage that was done to the unit, we were very lucky it did not come on and stay on as I’d prompted it.

“Your house would have been filled with carbon monoxide,” he said.

Gulp! I’m no genius, but I’m pretty certain that would not have been healthy.

The HVAC specialist negotiated a price with Tara, ordered a new unit, and came in Friday to install the heat pump we ordered. It was delivered around noon, and he had the initial work done by around 2. He’d ordered wire from a local business that, we found out, was closed on the day after Thanksgiving. The repairman gave us an option: He could get the wire needed to convert our unit from gas to electric at any of several retailers, but it would cost three times the amount that he’d already negotiated.

Thinking “This cool weather’s going to go away in a day or so anyway,” we decided to wait until the store opened on Monday and our repairman could get the wire at a price that would save us a good bit of money.

Turns out we were wrong. The weather got even colder, dipping down to the freezing level for a few nights running, and turning our domicile into a bit of an ice box.

But there was a saving grave: the old-school that I mentioned before.

My wife is the queen of firestarters. Any of us who owns fireplaces knows the frustration of trying to get a fire going from scratch, the lighting of a month’s worth of newspapers, only to have them burn down and out without so much as a spark on the wood we have strategically placed as our fuel. If you’re like me, trying to get a fire going sometimes leaves me so frustrated and hot (at least under the collar) that I have walked away out of anger.

Not Tara. She’ll place the wood just so, get a piece of newspaper and sometimes some kindling — sometimes not — pile them underneath, light a match and a fire will spring forth, warm and toasty. (I’ve found myself wondering at times if she has some of those “Bewitched” powers that allow her to ignite fires with a twitch of her nose.)

We got through the cold nights with just our fireplace for warmth, and on Monday the repairman got the new unit hooked up. It’s warm and toasty in the house again, but using our fireplace as a sole source of heat for a few nights took me back to those days in rural Irwin County when things like central heat and air were Jetsons-like concepts of the future.

Nostalgia aside, a fireplace is a great throwback to the days of yore, and, yes, they’re kinda romantic. But even with a certified firestarter on my team, I’ll stick with the modern-day heating/cooling unit. Some say this is modern man’s greatest invention. Spend a few days without, and you’re apt to agree.