When Real Wife and I set up housekeeping 15 years ago, one of the needed items was a vacuum cleaner. By happenstance, we received some sort of free promotional offer, contingent on sitting through a sales pitch for a Majestic Filter Queen. For those not in the know, this was considered at that time to be the epitome of suck. Real Wife (then Real Fiancée ) simply had to have one. Having a few beers during the presentation, the only thing that stood out about the ordeal was that the motor spun at 10,000 RPM – impressive in its own right (if true) and clearly deserving of a Tim’s Tool Time Binford Tool endorsement. That is, the only thing that jumped out until he told us the price. Fifteen hundred dollars – 1992 dollars. Real Wife (Fiancée) gave me The Look, and we were the proud owners of a vacuum that cost a mere $700 less than my first brand new car (although said car, a ’72 Plymouth Cricket aka Hillman Avenger, had a redline of only about 5,000 RPM).

Well, it died last week (the Filter Queen – the Cricket died in 1977, victim of Lucas electricals and a Stromberg carb), or at least the motor did (teardown analysis found a loose nut and flat washer – catastrophic at aforesaid 10,000 RPM). Real Wife was ready to move on anyway; tank-type machines are not compatible with two story homes. We compared a number of models at epinion.com, and thought that one of the Bissell models, at around $150, seemed a reasonable blend of price vs. performance, so RW headed to the local Sears. On schedule, The Call came. You know the one – when he/she tell you that this really credible (in this case a former schoolteacher) sales person has these magic beans… In this case the magic beans were … a Dyson DC17 Animal. Triple cyclonic action, no need for HEPA filters or bags, etc. And only a third the cost of the Majestic. I quickly calculated that the price of having a negative opinion about this would be required active participation in future vacuuming activities, so I told her that it was her decision.

A couple of hours later she returned home, albeit with a somewhat disappointed look. It turns out that The Animal was not in stock. The old bait and switch – they sold her a DC14 telescopic instead. One of the ugliest damn things I’ve ever seen. Yellow and gray, with a faux business-end-of-a-NASA-air-tunnel look to it. But can it ever suck. We ran it over carpet that was vacuumed with the Filter Queen just prior to its demise and, unless the cats and dogs lost most of their fur since then (they look OK) the old Filter Queen wasn’t cutting it. I was so impressed that I almost asked to take it for a spin, but caught myself with the sudden thought that this could set an unfavorable precedent. Regarding the latter statement and before the hoards show up on the comment board with the digital version of pitchforks and a rope, I offer the following. RW has never come within even a passing consideration of reading a manual for a phone, computer, or other similar device. Same dynamic – once you start you own it. One of the dynamics that establishes the balance required for lasting marriages. My other defense for seeming to be a, well yes, chauvinist pig is that (except for flowers), if its outside its mine. Mowing, downed trees, snow removal, dead animal removal (the need has arisen), pest insurgencies, and landscape improvements – all are mine.

So, I’ve got a ’92 Filter Queen, all it needs is a motor. Any offers?