It is hot—interminably hot—here in South Carolina.  I can only imagine how much worse it is for our senior correspondent, Audre Myers, down in Florida.  My European readers will struggle to comprehend the kind of heat we’re experiencing.  I still can’t comprehend entire nations in the developed world that don’t have air-conditioning; it is truly a privilege for Europeans to have the luxury of not having A/C, much less not having to run it constantly.

I’ve often referred to the South in the summer as akin to living on the surface of Venus.  Our poisonous gas atmosphere is in the form of humidity—breathable, but barely.  Imagine walking outside and feeling not just heat, but a kind of all-encompassing clamminess that somehow manages to make you feel even hotter.  Yes, you can get acclimated if you’re willing to stay out in it long enough, but you have to drink constantly, as the combo of heat and humidity is constantly sucking moisture from your body.

Naturally, sweating is constant.  It will get into your eyes; it will drench your clothes.  In my college marching band days, the t-shirts under my uniform would be white with the salt left behind from evaporated sweat.

With such intense heat and humidity, thunderstorms are common.  If we’re lucky, a storm will last long enough that it will drop the temperature considerably—sometimes by as much as twenty or even thirty degrees Fahrenheit.  But more often that not the storms will be quick—just a few minutes—and the humidity returns with a vengeance as soon as they pass.  Once the sun returns, all of that rainfall immediately evaporates into a thick, hazy, choking humidity.

My little car‘s A/C has been struggling to keep up with the heat.  This past Saturday, it finally gave up the ghost about halfway through a drive back from North Carolina.  Dr. Fiancée and I had met her parents for lunch, so I parked under a shade tree, lowered the windows, and packed a seven-pound bag of ice next to Murphy to keep her cool while we ate.  She seemed to do okay, snuggled up as she was next to a thawing bag of the cold stuff.  I intermittently rolled down the windows, and the air rushing through was cooler than whatever hot demon breath was emanating from the once-frosty confines of my car’s ventilation.

I attempted to refill the car’s refrigerant myself.  I purchased a can of R-134a Freon Sunday after church, only to realize I needed a hose to connect the can to my vehicle’s low pressure refrigerant valve.  I obtained that hose on Monday and undertook the process of refilling my car with frosty Freon.  Various sources online discouraged amateurs such as myself from trying this job, but I was desperate, and hoping to fix everything for twenty-five bucks (instead of something closer to $150).

My efforts at re-frostification failed.  Fortunately, my local shade-tree mechanic looked it over, and believes some manner of valve (an extender valve?) is not working properly.  He drained all the Freon from the system, and when he attempted to put more in, his gauge immediately maxed out (it should not have done that).

So, we’re praying this valve will solve the problem—for approximately $235.  D’oh!  If it doesn’t work, it’s over $800 for the compressor kit.  Nooooo!

But in the South, not having constant air-conditioning in the middle of July is not an option, so yours portly will, if necessary, dig deep—and pray for autumn.