As promised in the water heater replacement post , I'm performing an autopsy on the failed unit to see if it could have been repaired. Haven't you wondered what they look like inside? We'd decided to replace the old one during an emergency outage because of the age of the unit and early signs of rust. We rolled a $500 die, believing it was toast. Other than electrical connections, I'd never worked on a water heater before, but it was pretty easy, like replacing a faucet.

You may recall, the bottom drain valve was clogged and the tank was still full of water. I started the operation by popping it on the hand truck and whisking it out side.

The whole "popping it on the hand truck" thing isn't entire accurate. I put every ounce of my 200 lbs into tipping this heavy bastard back.

Maybe I should have put weights in my back pockets.

I'm kicking myself for not shooting video of this battle. Looking at the photos reminded me of one I saw a while back where Kit from DIY Diva struggled to load a sheet of drywall onto a jack in a small space. She's a diminutive lady, but she fought that sucker into place with raw determination and a refusal to accept help. Check out her post here.

I started rocking, throwing my weight back while standing on the tires. I was trying to keep the weight even between both wheels to avoid another blow-out, since I'd just fixed the tire.

I can't believe I didn't break the hand truck.

After an eternity, as my strength ebbed, one last desperate lunge - yank - lean combo did the trick. It left terra-firma and became weightless,... for a brief second... ... before it hit me. It wasn't so heavy that it could knock me over. Of course, that's because it smashed me into the shelves which stopped my reverse trajectory quite nicely. Otherwise it would have knocked me over. Crap from the shelves rained down on me for a moment as I got the unwieldy beast under control. 

Heavy, heav·y (hev-ee) adjective, heav·i·er, heav·i·est.

1. of great weight; hard to lift or carry: a heavy load.

2. see photo of idiot above

Holding the weight and slowly turning to avoid blowing the straining tires, I finally realized my camera was sitting on its tripod, smack-dab in the middle of the only access path out of the garage. It took a few moments of yelling for help before Sweetie came out and rescued it for me. I wheeled the hernia-inducing sucker straight out towards the curb. It's bulk trash pickup week, a perfect time to dispose of the autopsied carcass of a water heater.

You may recall from my post about installing a water heater shutoff switch, the heating element connections are behind this access panel. I can test them for continuity to see if they are the reason for the failure.

access panel

Pop out some insulation and the plastic, electrical safety shield to reveal...

...rust. It's corroded around the butt end of the element. I don't think this thing would screw out easily.

The bottom was much worse. When I pulled the insulation, it was charred and melted to the element.

The wiring was crispy and brittle.

Electrically speaking, that's "bad". There's a plastic sheet liner that's cooked too; maybe there was an actual fire in there.  I reached in and plucked the charred wires off the terminal block, no screwdriver needed. It crumbled like charcoal.

Maybe I can put this piece on Craigslist

Obviously, I made the right choice in replacing the unit; this one is shot. Of course, it could have gone the other way and only needed a new $20 element when we decided to shell out $500. In the end, I'm just glad the circuit breaker did its job and cut the power before this train wreck burned the house down. 

I thought maybe I could remove the lower element to drain the tank. I cut the outer sheet metal back with a reciprocating saw so I could get a pair of channel locks or a pipe wrench on it.

No dice. That element was corroded in there for good. I chucked a Bi-Metal Hole Saw into the Cordless Drill  to make my own drain hole.

In hindsight, I should have thought about what 80 gallons of water would want to do when the saw punched through. I'm not wild about the dousing I gave my expensive drill, but it seems to be OK.

For some reason, this seemed to be a good stopping point. I had the sudden urge for a rest room break .

Guys, you know what I'm talking about.

While the tank was taking a leak, I drilled another hole near the top.

This one was to stick a reciprocating saw blade into the tank. A Bi-Metal Reciprocating Saw Blade chewed through the steel tank like a can opener. It was louder than heck, so I slipped into some hearing protection before circumnavigating the tank.

Protect your ears!  (and eyes and hands)

"Round and Round, What comes around goes around, I'll tell you why"

                                                                                                    - Ratt

Pop the top and great secrets are revealed.

As you enjoy the following photo tour through the guts of the tank, remember that this is where the hot water for bathing and dish washing comes from. Remember, if you have a weak stomach, I warned you in the post title. 

Uuughhhhhht!!!

If you haven't drained your tank in a few years, you might want to think about it. 

The sacrificial anode rod is gone. Just this crumbly calcified stuff remains.

The bottom: It's full of oatmeal-ish sludge and the lower heating element.

It's like crushed seashells,... and dirt.

Easy to crush these hunks of chalky stuff

The top: I think there were originally two anode rods. Ugh, more rust.

That's that. Cause of death? My opinion is that the anode was completely gone and corrosion and calcium  (?) attacked the weak spots. Maybe the lower element got too hot in all the goop. Eventually overheating a short, or moisture did the electrical in. 

Whatever the cause, I made the right choice replacing it. I couldn't have repaired this guy if I wanted to. I wheeled it out to the curb for bulk trash pick-up. It was remarkably light without 80 gallons of water in it. I stuck it next to the old television, which I know won't last long with the pickers circling the neighborhood like sharks.

Just for grins, I thought I'd let the pickers know the TV still works and clue them in that there's a small issue with the water heater:

TV: "Fee! Works!"       Heater: "Free! Does not  work!"

45 minutes later...

Seriously? You literally cannot give a tube-style television (with remote and batteries!) away these days, but someone has a use for a nasty, corroded, water heater that's been sawed in two. I can't imagine how much work it takes to strip all the metal out to sell it for recycling.