Replacing the vacuum

Watching the canister of my new vacuum fill with dirt is almost hypnotic.

The air swirls round and round with cyclonic force, and soon, as if by magic, the little hamsters whose treadmill-pattering feet drive the motor have allowed the machine to collect another load. It is a measure of how empty my life is that I find this compelling.

My new Bissell Powerforce Helix is the first time I've gone the bagless route with a vacuum. A creature of custom, I've always preferred to use bags, even though my wife has told me for years that the world of suction has moved beyond this old model and in exciting new directions. In my usual Luddite fashion, I have resisted, but now in a matter of days, I have become an enthusiastic convert.

Not that the switch has been easy. First came the realization that my old sweeper had gone from sucking in a good way to sucking in a bad way. Even after hours on the surgical table, during which I replaced its belt and cleaned its hoses (all while hearing the narration from the opening credits of "The Six Million Dollar Man" in my fevered head -- "We can rebuild him ... We have the technology ...), it was doing little more than moving dirt from Point A to Point B. Somewhere, somebody was playing the requiem dirge.

A trip to the store revealed that replacements run the price gamut from $47 to $599. I find the concept of paying $599 for a vacuum ridiculous, although I suppose if you're the type who gives the butler a c-note to pick up a loaf of bread and milk from the store and doesn't bother asking for the change that it makes sense.

My philosophy with any type of mechanical equipment -- including sweepers, lawn mowers and automobiles -- is to purchase the least expensive models, work them hard and replace them three times more often than people who buy expensive versions.

Look, I know myself: I'm not going to keep up on the maintenance, and my three extra purchases are going to cost the same over time as one large cash outlay. Plus, I get the enjoyment of three new pieces of equipment to a do-it-yourselfer's one. So keep polishing and finessing that Cadillac of mowers or Porsche of vacuums if you want; I'll be footloose and fancy-free with my Kia Soul and Nissan Cube models.

I freely admit that my bargain-basement vacuum doesn't do some tasks as well as more expensive versions. For example, that $599 model has more attachments than a corrupt politician -- you could sweep the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel or pull little Timmy out of a well once you snapped together all its nozzles and hoses.

The new Helix also wouldn't do much to repel burglars or fend off cookie-peddling girl scouts. It's so light that an infant could bench press it. When I was younger, we had an all-metal Electrolux sweeper that I swear my great-great-great-grandfather once used to defend the Alamo, and that a great-uncle brandished when he stormed the beach at Anzio. I myself earned gym credit for using it every Friday night as part of the all-house cleaning regimen.

(That's right -- we cleaned the house on Friday nights when I was a boy. None of this "go hang out with your friends at the mall" and "Internet on your smartphone malarkey" for my generation. Wanna know what my Internet was? A set of Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedias that we earned one volume a week at Sparkle's Market. I shudder to think how many broccoli spears I had to choke down just for volumes W and XYZ alone.)

So I won't be defending Casa Schillig from home invaders with my Bissell Powerforce Helix anytime soon. But if all else fails, I can simply turn it on. If my attackers are anything like me, they'll be so entranced by the sight of swirling cat hair that I can pick them off one by one with the toaster. Which is also fairly new, but still packs a pretty mean punch.

Originally published in March 2012