Everything had been going so well.

The leaky old door seal that had turned our freezer into a winter wonderland, complete with icicles and frost, was sitting in a rigid heap next to the trash can. The new seal, which I’d lovingly bathed in hot water in order to soften it and smooth out any shipping kinks, was laid out and ready to go.

My able young assistant was taking a break from her iPad to give her Dad a hand.

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking. The freezer door was flat on its back on the kitchen floor; a huge wire basket of frozen food was already beading with sweat; and the open maw of the freezer compartment seemed to be gasping its last icy breath.

Working together, Nina and I pressed the new seal into place. I’d done my homework. I’d watched plenty of YouTube videos on freezer seal repair (I’ll admit, not exactly the gold standard of entertainment). I knew what it was supposed to sound like when the nylon flange popped into its groove.

It was all good.

“It’s in!” I said.

“It doesn’t really feel all the way in,” Nina said dubiously.

“It’s just warm and squishy from the hot bath. But it’s definitely in,” I said, declaring the seal portion of the repair complete. “Now, on the to the hard part.”

The hard part was the replacement of two industrial-strength drawer glides, the heart of the sliding freezer door mechanism. The old glides had started to rust and were getting sticky. They didn’t pull all the way out anymore.

But that wasn’t the real reason we were replacing them. The real reason was that the drawer glides were covered by a lifetime warranty. I’d called the manufacturer; described the current condition of the glides; made the case that they should send me replacements; and then, when they refused, politely wore them down until it dawned on them that the only way to get rid of me was to just ship me the stupid things and be done with it.

It was only later that I realized why they’d been so reluctant to send out the replacements: they retail for $700!

Setting aside the fact that $700 is an obscene amount to charge for a pair of parts — the cost of a whole new refrigerator, as a matter of fact — I was thrilled. We’d have nice new drawer glides! And all because I’d read the warranty’s fine print; remembered it seven years later; noticed the rusty hinges; made the call; and stood up for my consumer rights.

Of course, I was far too cheap to hire someone to put them in. How hard could it be? I used to make kitchen cabinets for a living; I’d installed plenty of drawer glides. True, these were the Arnold Schwarzenegger of glides, massive telescoping arms that looked like they’d been raised on a diet of cast iron and steroids. But a glide was a glide, right? Three screws per side, and — boom! — our freezer door would roll in and out like a Lexus.

“I’m not sure this coffee ice cream is going to survive,” Nina said. “I vote we eat it.”

“There’ll be time for ice cream later,” I said, lying down next to the steaming basket of frozen food and worming my way into the freezer compartment. “Hand me that screw gun.”

As soon as she handed me the tool, we hit our first snag. The Phillips head bit didn’t fit the screws. Closer inspection revealed that the screws in the freezer were Torx heads. For those of you who aren’t up on screw terminology, Torx head screws require a bit that looks like a six-pointed star. Manufacturers often use them to discourage do-it-yourselfers like me.

It just so happened that I had a set of Torx bits in the basement. The only problem was that I didn’t have a tool that would drive them. My bit-tip holder had bitten the dust, and there was no way to secure the bit in my screw gun. In the end, I had to break out my big 1/2” electric drill, the only tool in my arsenal with an adjustable chuck.

Of course, 1/2” electric drills are designed for drilling large holes in wood and steel, not for driving Torx screws. But I was getting worried about the frozen food.

“You should never use the wrong tool in a case like this,” I told Nina, as I proceeded to use the wrong tool.

Predictably, as I was finishing up, the powerful drill snapped the final screw in half.

“Argh!” I cried.

Nina knew better than to say anything, but I imagined the words Nice one, Dad, forming in a thought bubble over her head.

The moral of this story? Always use the right tool, and always have a set of screw-extractors at the ready. The hero of the hour was an Alden 4507P Micro Grabit Broken Bolt Extractor, 4 piece kit, which you can find on Amazon.com for $24.99.

I followed the instructions. Two minutes later, the broken screw was out, a new screw was in, and the freezer was cooling down.

The ice cream was soft, but delicious.

This column was published in the Perry Co Times on 30 August 2012

For more information, please contact Mr. Olshan at writing@matthewolshan.com