Journal Entry: Scrap (circa 2006)

{
  "entry_date": "2006",
  "location": "Pittsburgh, PA",
  "author": "Moxie Marlinspike",
  "status": "Archived"
}

I arrived in Pittsburgh at a pivotal moment in my personal life, though unfortunately, my timing regarding the season was abysmal. Having migrated from the West Coast, I possessed a certain naive optimistic enthusiasm for the arrival of winter.

The Winter Fantasy vs. The Reality

In my mind, winter was a picturesque montage of cozy activities:

• Engaging in spirited snowball fights.
• Building intricate snow angels.
• Admiring icicles hanging from the eaves.
• Listening to the muffled crunch of fresh powder beneath my boots.
• Sledding and watching snowflakes dance under the glow of street lamps.

However, the actual experience was far less poetic. Winter is a season one should ideally transition into gradually. My reality was defined by a house lacking basic utilities and a complete absence of warmth. I spent January in a freezing basement, gripping a pipe wrench with fingers so numb I could barely feel them, attempting to install gas lines.

Technical Difficulty: There were moments when the cold was so extreme that the thread sealant in the tube had literally frozen solid, making it impossible to apply to the black iron pipes.

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Renovating the Wreck

The residence was essentially a disaster zone, and the temperature had plummeted to $T < 0^\circ\text{C}$ (well below zero). Our priority list looked something like this:

• Establish a functioning (or approximate) flushing toilet.
• Demolish interior walls.
• Install basic plumbing.
• Salvage materials from forgotten pallets and scrap wood.

During the cleanup, we removed a heavy cast-iron bathtub. Since we had no immediate storage space, we left it outside against the exterior wall. In less than 24 hours, the massive tub had vanished. I was baffled—who would put in the effort to steal such a cumbersome object?

The Epiphany

I eventually realized the cultural difference between cities:

"Where San Francisco has scroungers, Pittsburgh has scrappers."

While scroungers look for quirky trinkets or furniture, scrappers hunt for raw metal.

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Enter Ron and Wade

Months later, we found another cast-iron tub, though this one was useless due to a large rust hole in the bottom. I knew exactly how to dispose of it. While watching from the window, I spotted a pickup truck in the alley. It was a chaotic sight: plywood sides had been bolted to the bed to contain a jagged hoard of appliance parts and metal piping.

Two men climbed out to assess the tub. They reminded me of characters from a Walter Matthau film—both seemed partially deaf, communicating exclusively by screaming at one another, even when standing inches apart.

After they loaded the tub and some ductwork, they noticed the house. I mentioned a broken gas furnace in the basement. After checking the weight and counting the stairs, they bellowed, ALRIGHT WE'LL DO IT.

---

The Great Furnace Heave

I went downstairs to supervise, but I was quickly recruited for the heavy lifting. I quickly learned that being a scrap collector does not equate to being a professional mover. Instead of tilting the furnace carefully, they simply knocked it over with a massive crash.

The Logistics of the Stairwell

The path from the basement to the first floor was a tight squeeze:

The initial formation was:

1. Wade (Leading/Front)
2. Author & Ron (Pushing from below)

The process was grueling, filled with embarrassing moans and loud curses. After a few failed attempts, Wade screamed, "RON!" When I looked at him confusedly, he snapped back, "the sugars!"

They swapped positions. Now, Ron was in front, and I was squeezed into the stairwell with the massive Wade. We progressed one step at a time, spending a grueling 45 minutes just to reach the landing.

The Crisis

As we pushed the furnace through the doorway to the landing, a protruding pipe snagged on the wall, wedging the unit tight. This left Wade and me trapped on the basement side, with the furnace acting as a wall, and Ron stranded on the landing side.

Panic set in. Wade began yelling, "HEY, IS THERE ANOTHER WAY OUT OF THIS BASEMENT?"

In his hysteria, he started pulling the furnace back toward us. Because the stairwell was so narrow, I was being crushed against the wall. I tried to urge him to breathe and calm down, but he was inconsolable. I was torn between trying to fix the jam or sprinting back down into the basement for safety.

Suddenly, Ron peered through the gap and shouted:

"I'LL GO GET THE AXE!"

The furnace fit the frame, but there was a small $\approx 2\text{-inch}$ section of wall that needed to be removed.