The Red Water Valve

When it comes to water valves, I have a control issue. If I open the valve, I expect water to flow. If I close it, I expect the flow to stop. It isn't a difficult concept and one easily grasped by most of the valves I come in contact with on a daily basis, mostly of the sink and shower variety.

My place has three main valves by the garage in front. A white one controls water to the house, a black one controls the front sprinkler system and a red one controls the feeder line to the backyard. Before the weekend, I had never used any of them.

When the house was built, the contractor ran a one-inch PVC line under the front fence to the backyard. In May, we trenched up to the line, but never connected it.

On Saturday, my dad came over to help with the backyard irrigation system. He thought we should check the feeder line and see if water was flowing through it. I volunteered to turn off the valve to the backyard, figuring the pipe would be under pressure.

I stood befuddled before the three valves, not knowing which one controlled what. I finally came up with the brilliant idea to shut them all off. After testing the front hose bibb and the kitchen sink, I returned to the backyard, satisfied that everything had stopped working.

By the capped feeder line, which rose about four inches out of the rocks lining the fence, my dad stood with a saw in his hand and said, "Because the cap is glued on, we need to saw it off. If it's dry, then we have a problem. If it's working, then we may get wet."

He knelt by the pipe, put the blade to it, paused for a second and then handed me the saw. "Here. You cut it."

I gave him a look that asked, "Me?"

His look said, "Yes, you."

Mine retorted, "But it's your saw."

His replied, "It's your pipe."

Two seconds into sawing and the most obnoxious smelling water suddenly sprayed from the pipe, soaking my pants, socks and shoes. I froze for a few seconds, expecting the spray to weaken. It didn't.

"Saw the rest off," said my dad, who was amazingly dry.

It didn't seem to make much sense. I imagined sawing off the cap and getting drenched by a feisty geyser, but I shrugged and cut through the plastic anyway. All that resulted was a mild-mannered bubbler. One that wouldn't stop bubbling.

"You sure you turned off the right valve?" he asked.

"Uh-huh, but I'll double check," I said as I ran back to the valves, squishing with every step. I gave the red valve a twist, but it was as tight as could be. The water still flowed.

Over the fence, my dad yelled, "Well, at least you know you have water! Go ahead and cap the pipe. No use in watering the rocks." I think it's easy to be an optimist when your socks aren't wet.

When it comes to water valves, I have a control issue and presently, the red valve is in control. No worries, though. It will be replaced.