Under Pressure

The kegerator sat idle for too long.  Yes, I know, priorities. Abysmal.

Sadly empty.

Intent on correcting this error in my ways, I mentioned that I was planning to head to Johnstown, 20 miles to the southeast, to get a keg.  “We’re going west to Utica to see a movie,” said Mary. Why don’t you get it there?”

Great idea!  A quick search revealed that kegs were available at Marcy Discount Beverage, just across the Mohawk River and Erie Canal from Utica and the movie theater.  We’d take a slightly longer route to the reasonable facsimile of civilization where movies played. A few other stops along the way would complete our outing.

What could be better than dinner and a movie and a keg?  “Dinner and a movie and a keg and a new book for me to read,” said Mary.  So off we went, not without a twinge of guilt for leaving our little dog Ginger to fend for herself for half the day.     

The rain started almost as soon as we left, so our timing was good in regard to previous outdoor activities.  Most of an hour later, I stepped out into the drizzle in the Marcy Beverage parking lot and quickly returned with a ⅙ keg of Saranac Pale Ale.  

Canoe,   Water,  Hills,  Family.
More than enough to break down any sales resistance.

Yes, aficionados, I might have been able to get it directly from the F. X. Matt Brewery a few miles away, but this was quite a bit more convenient.  The keg and some ice were dropped into a waiting storage bin, and the entire assembly was covered with a ratty wool blanket usually enjoyed by Ginger. Please understand, Ginger.

Much later, after a lovely evening where we managed not to fall asleep in the reclining theater chairs, the keg was placed in the kegerator for safekeeping for tapping the next day. 

Not this kind of tapping.

Though the lines had been cleaned after the previous use, a year of idleness dictated a good flushing.  That complete, the CO2 pressure bottle that had been extracted from the unit while it served as a backup food refrigerator (sad duty for a noble kegerator) had to be located.  Of course, it was in the last place I searched, mainly because I stopped searching after finding it.  

Finally, all was ready for hook up.  The pressure line attaches to the tap via a metal-to-metal screw connection, and then the tap is pressed down and screwed ¼ turn into the keg.  The final connection step is to pull out the handle connected to the pin on the valve and swing the handle downward into the business position.

Gas comes in from the clamped red tube.
Beer goes out the top clear tube.
The paper collar is very helpful if you forget what you're drinking.

Now open the screw valve on top of the CO2 tank and then flip the valve to the keg.  Really good design here. Though the people who created the kegerator were undoubtedly drunkards, they kept enough wits about themselves to provide a two valve solution where a meter just after the pressure regulator allows one to know if there is gas in the tank without it being connected to the keg.  This way one can know if there is a leak, or if a trip to the nearest CO2 provider is called for, which in this case, was 20 miles away (if open). And of course, since I didn’t even know where the bottle was, I hadn’t checked prior to the procurement trip.

But I’ve often heard that the Lord protects fools (in addition to lovers and children, and maybe even the United States, if you believe Otto von Bismark), and this day provided supporting evidence.  There was gas in the tank. So it was time for the real test, and the tap handle was pulled forward.  

The first few ounces of what appears is not necessarily beer.  With the flushing of the system and residual cooties, who knows what’s in that first half-glass?  That goes down the drain.  

After that, there was flow which was probably the result of the efervescent pressure in the keg.  But then it stopped. The meter reads zero. Woe be unto me. All is lost. There must be a leak.

But there is recourse!  As Dad taught me, it’s time for the soapy water trick.  He applied it to an arguably somewhat more important issue while detecting natural gas leaks.  Dad wasn’t much of a beer drinker. But maybe he had a Scotch tap somewhere he never revealed to me.

Rising bubbles confirm the diagnosis.  The gas is leaking at the junction of the gas line to the tap.

The valve adjacent to the red tube is open,
but the pressure meter reads zero.
Not good.

Screwing down the plumbers clamp affixing the plastic line does not fix the problem, so cutting the tubing off an inch shorter and tightening it back down is the first step.  Careful, not too hard now, since too much pressure may tend to deform the plastic and create a leak. Also, don’t confirm an unlikely overabundance of testosterone by breaking the clamp.  Such juvenile behavior is punished with beer deprivation. Now clamp the tubing back down with a gap from the metal connector so it is more obvious where the leak is coming from, if it returns.  Which, of course, it did.

Upon closer examination, it could be seen that the bubbles were emanating from the metal-to-metal connection.  Gotta take it off the tap again. Sigh.

Staring at the disassembled connector, it became apparent that there was no way the mating of two less than perfect metal surfaces would ever seal.  In the tank's travels apart from the cooler over the past year, the mating washer for the connection must have gotten itself into the inter-dimensional portal into which single socks disappear.   A new gasket or washer was necessary. Thankfully, the payoff for hoarding provided just the thing. Asbestos is not a problem in the pressure line, is it?

After reassembly, with both valves open, the pressure meter holds above zero, unlike before.  Soapy water tells no new tales.

So now the real testing must begin.  The only way to be sure there is no slow leak is to draw that first pint, and then return to the kegerator at regular intervals to make sure motive pressure remains.  And the best timing for regular interval checks just happens to be the time it takes to empty a pint glass.

Maybe a little too much pressure now.
Adjustments will be made during testing.

41 pints of beer in the keg.

41 pints of beer.

Time for a peek, check for a leak, 

40 pints of beer in the keg.

I slept well with the knowledge that the pressure to connect things properly had been released.

--------------------------------------------

And now for a Special Bonus from the “Coincidence? You must be kidding!” file:

The movie we went to see was “Once Upon A Time In Hollywood,” Quenton Tarantino’s latest.  It garnered 85% on the Rotten Tomatometer. It is an interesting alternate reality treatment of the Manson/Tate murders.

Perhaps the least violent Tarantino movie.

Prominently featured is Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, Manson’s second in command out at the Spahn Movie Ranch.  Remembering that she also attempted to assassinate President Gerald Ford, I decided to look up what prison she currently occupied.  

Surprisingly, she is free, paroled in 2009 after 34 years of a life sentence.  And she is now living with her also freed manslaughter-convicted boyfriend in...drumroll...Marcy, NY.

One can’t help but wonder if she was the elderly once-red-haired woman who sat behind us in the theater.