You make backups, right? I mean, maybe you don't do daily full system backups, but you certainly make an extra copy of your data files. Fine, maybe not everything, but the important, work related stuff. Right?

Here's a scary Halloween story about backups. I know, a few weeks late, but I'll try to segue into a Thanksgiving story, just to keep things current.

This is the kind of story sysadmins tell each other around the campfire.

First, definitions of terms: a System Backup is an image of your, well, your entire system - your C: drive, typically. If you have a system backup, you can restore a hard drive and pick up where you left off when you did the backup. Generally, you'll have a boot CD, and an external hard drive with your backup on it. The software on that CD will ask for the location of the backup. Reboot, and you ought to be right where you were when you made the backup.

A Data Backup is just a copy of all your data files. A Data Backup doesn't need any special boot disc, it's just a copy of your files. If you erase something by mistake, just drag in the backup copy from your external drive. Uh, you do have an external backup drive, right?

So, anyway. There I am, doing my twice-weekly system backup. I leave the room to interact with a human being. Dinner or something - I forget... it was all a blur. I go back to edit video clips for my wife's TV Pilot workshop (go to sandlerink.com if you're interested). What I see, instead of my cheerful desktop picture of Santa Monica beach, is glowing text.

This is not the Blue Screen of Death or BSD. This is the screen that flashes on for a second when you boot up your computer. Usually it just flickers up, and goes right into Windows XP. Here it is hanging. A mid-boot hang.

My stomach flips like when I reach for my wallet and my pocket is empty. Oh, shit. I am, after all, tech support. If I can't fix this, it will be so humiliating!

I do a few of the easier tricks. Turn off machine, wait 30 seconds, turn it on. No go. Turn off machine, unplug it, press on switch for 30 seconds to clear all circuits, plug it in, turn it on. No go. Turn off machine, unplug it, press on switch, leave it alone while I wash dishes. Come back, plug it in, turn it on...

No go.

Now I get my screwdriver. We're getting into serious troubleshooting territory here. I pull the idiotically huge Alienware Area-51 machine out from under the desk. Damn thing must weigh 80 pounds. Under the desk is ancient filth and an unholy tangle of cords. Cleaning is immediately satisfying. On hands and sore knees, I clean the floor under the desk, rearrange the wires, bundling them with brightly colored wire ties.

I open up the PC and gaze at a post-apocalyptic scene. A film of dust everywhere, clots of dust in all the vents, the radiator fins on the CPU packed solid with dust. I think for a moment about what dust actually is made of, then make myself stop. Just too, too horrible.

With a can of compressed air, I dust everything, only leaving the room to cough apoplectically. I clean it all out, plug everything back into it, boot up.

No go.

Okay. Next step is to employ my troubleshooting technique, which is called, "poke it ‘til it squeaks." I unplug every bit of hardware, leaving only keyboard, mouse and monitor. Boot up. No go. I pull out a pair of memory chips. Boot up, and... it doesn't boot up, but it doesn't boot up in a different way! This time, it says it can't find an Operating System! That, paradoxically, is very good news. I leave the two memory chips out. They are clearly faulty. They must have written trash to the hard drive, which now is addled and confused, the PC equivalent of wandering around the bus station, talking to itself.

Fortunately I still have my Windows XP boot disc. I boot up with that, and it prompts me to hit "R" to bring up the "Recovery Console". That's an interesting place, reminiscent of old-school DOS. Takes me back to the 80's when I first encountered PC's. Ahh, simpler times.

A command prompt comes up, and there is a limited set of commands you can use here. I used something called CHKDSK to check the integrity of the disk, and found that it was fine. Good! So I don't have a broken hard drive, just confused software that has forgotten how to boot. So I use the FIXBOOT command to set it straight.

Done. System boots up, and we are okay. My manhood is safe. And, as a bonus, under my desk is clean!

Now, what can you do, since I don't live with you? In Los Angeles, there are a couple of options. Best Buy has the Geek Squad. They will come to your home or office for $250 in one of those adorable black and white VW bugs. For $200 you can take your PC to them.

I go to my local PC Club because they have frequent sales, and have chatted with their in-house repair guys. I trust him, he's Russian. He told me that the repair I did would probably have cost about $70. He didn't seem surprised when I showed him the defective memory chips. He has a world-weary "seen everything" attitude that I trust.

I have also had a repair done at Fry's. They were very professional, and charged me (if I remember correctly) about $100 to tell me that my motherboard was utterly shot. They aren't cheap, but they did seem to know what they were talking about.

My advice is to find a local PC Club or other small computer store that does repairs - there are many mom-and-pop type places. Buy something there, even if it would be cheaper at Best Buy or Fry's. Talk to them. Do they seem smart? Or does their mouth hang open? Maybe someone is there picking up a repair. Ask them what was wrong. In other words, be a pain. It's the only way to find anything out.

So that's how my Halloween nightmare turned into a heart-warming Thanksgiving story.