Hal, the Final Chapter, or 'How to destroy a hard drive'
Second in a two-part column on Dr. Fleet’s computer adventures
Hal had given way to Dell and languished alone in my workshop, awaiting his fate.  I had read articles about hackers breaking into discarded computers to retrieve sensitive data even when it had been deleted. I checked with my great-nephew computer guru, John.

“Oh yes,” he said.  “Anyone can restore files in the recycle bin.  There’s nothing to it.”

 “Then it would be a good idea to erase my hard drive.” 

He agreed.

I had saved two newspaper articles describing how to erase a hard-drive. I tried them both. Neither worked.  Another call to John produced a third method, which was unsuccessful as well.

I called John a third time and asked, “What else can I do?  Could I take the hard-drive out and smash it with a hammer?”  He replied, “That would do it.”

Screws anchored metal panels on each side of the case.  It was simple to remove the panels.  I opened the case and stared at a confusing collection of components.  There were several circuit boards.  Wires and cables were everywhere, connecting everything to everything else forming a tousled electronic maze.  A transformer was attached to the back wall and a rack holding four, eight-track-tape-sized objects lay against the front wall. 

I saw nothing that remotely resembled a disc (the C disc).  Another call to John.  “It should be one of those things in the rack,” he replied.  Close inspection revealed that three of them opened onto slots for a CD ROM, a zip disc and a floppy disc.  The fourth had to be the hard-drive.

How to get it out?  I unscrewed about 20 screws and removed the three unwanted components but the hard drive refused to budge. After I removed the power pack, barking a knuckle in the process, I could see a final screw anchoring the hard-drive.  It was tucked under the plastic top and almost against the front panel. The front and top had to come off.  How to do that?  I finally noticed several almost hidden plastic clips — three on each side of the front panel.  Releasing six clips simultaneously while prying off the panel required more than two hands.  I solved that problem with small wooden wedges made from clothespins.  Even though I had loosened both sides of the front panel, it still would not budge.  Light taps and then heavier taps with a hammer were equally unsuccessful.  (I had applied the following rule: don’t force it, just hit it harder.)

Finally, I noticed a seventh clip, which when released, allowed the front and top covers to be removed, exposing the offending little screw.

I made short work of the screw and the hard-drive meekly surrendered itself into my hands.  But there was no disc, just a heavy plastic and metal thing that I could not open.  There was no way that I could bash it with a hammer.  It was too tough.

Another call to John. I suggested, “Could I burn it?”

 “Sure. Nobody could read a hard-drive after that.”  And so I did.  I placed the hard-drive in a disposable aluminum pan and poured an entire can of charcoal lighter fluid over it.

 Hal fought me at every step, even at his execution.

The first match went out before it landed in the pan.  The second landed on the edge of the hard-drive in such a way that the burning head was exposed above the lighter fluid with the remainder beneath the surface.  The paper match acted as a wick and the head burned brightly for over five minutes, refusing to light anything else.  A third match landed in the lighter fluid but was doused upon landing. How can a flammable fluid put out a burning match?  Hal must still have been at work.  As a last resort, I played the hot flame of my propane torch over surface of the fluid.  Finally, I had my fire.

For 20 minutes, I watched burning lighter fluid, an expanding circle of burning grass and listened to a crackling, popping hard-drive. Even though Hal had fought me almost his entire last year, it was sad to see him go.  But life must go on.

I wondered, “What wine goes best with barbecued hard-drive?”