Gave Up on the Automatic Pool Cleaner Replacement Hose And I’m Never Going Back

You know those things in life you think are normal, just because everyone around you deals with them too? For me, for the longest time, it was pool cleaner hoses. I had one of those old automatic cleaners with the long, awkward hose trailing behind it like a limp tail, and I just assumed that replacing the hose every season — or sometimes twice a season — was just part of the deal. Sun damage, cracks, tangles, weird leaks, hose getting caught on the stairs — I’ve seen it all. And for years, I just dealt with it. Until one random afternoon last summer when I decided… nope. I’m done.

My first automatic pool cleaner came with a long blue hose that looked fine on day one. It even had that satisfying coil, fresh out of the box. Within a month, it was already starting to get stiff and bent in weird places. I remember trying to stretch it out in the sun like spaghetti, hoping it would “relax.” Spoiler: it didn’t.

Then came the tiny pinhole leaks. One day the cleaner would be crawling around the bottom of the pool doing its thing, and the next it would just stop moving. I’d go out there, lift the hose, and there’d be water spraying out the side like a broken sprinkler.

You patch it. You wrap it. You try to ignore it. Eventually, you give in and buy a new hose section. Then another. I swear I’ve spent more money on replacement hoses than I did on my actual cleaner. And every single time I thought, “This’ll last longer than the last one.” It never did.

What finally broke me was this one hot Saturday in July. I had friends coming over, burgers ready, drinks chilling, and I’m out back in swim trunks fiddling with a hose clamp. I’d noticed the cleaner wasn’t moving. Turns out the hose had literally split in half underwater. Just… snapped. Like it had had enough too.

That was it for me. I didn’t even get angry. I just stood there, dripping, holding two ends of a broken hose like some kind of poolside philosopher, thinking: Why am I still doing this?

That night, still slightly sunburnt and a little bitter, I started searching online — not just for a new hose this time, but for something better. I typed in “automatic pool cleaner without a hose” like I was asking for a unicorn. But then I saw someone mention Beatbot in a Reddit thread.

I didn’t really know what it was. I read a few comments. One guy called it “a pool cleaner that finally gets it.” Someone else wrote, “No hoses, no cords, no stress.” That sounded like a lie. But I clicked through anyway. And there it was: the AquaSense 2 Series. A cleaner with no external hose. None. Not even a little one.

I didn’t think. I just bought it.

First time I dropped the Beatbot in the pool, I stood there watching it like it might explode. It didn’t. It just glided off like it had been cleaning my pool for years. No tangling. No connection issues. No water spurting from a mystery hole in the tubing.

It was surreal. I sat down, drink in hand, waiting for something to go wrong. Nothing did. The robot just kept doing laps, going up the walls, brushing the tile line like it actually cared.

And I realized something halfway through watching it — I wasn’t anxious. That constant low-level worry of “Is the hose okay?” or “Did the clamp come loose again?” was just… gone. I felt like someone had lifted a 30-foot plastic snake off my shoulders.

It’s been months now. The old cleaner is buried somewhere in my garage, hose coiled in a sad knot. I kept it “just in case,” but honestly, I know I’m never going back. Not after this.

Beatbot doesn’t just clean well — it’s quiet. It minds its business. It doesn’t complain. It doesn’t trip over its own tail. It finishes the job and tucks itself away like a little pool butler.

Every now and then, someone asks me what cleaner I use, and I just point at it with a smile. “No hose,” I say. That always gets a reaction. It’s like saying “no traffic” during rush hour. They don’t believe it. But it’s real.

So here I am. I don’t think about pool hoses anymore. I don’t browse replacement parts. I don’t wrestle with sun-hardened plastic tubes or fight to get air bubbles out.

The hose problem? It’s just… gone. And honestly, I didn’t realize how much mental space it was taking up until it wasn’t there anymore.

That’s the thing about smart design. When something really works, you stop noticing it. And you start enjoying the part that actually matters — the swim, the peace, the stupid flamingo floatie your kid insists on bringing out every time.

I’ll take that over hose drama any day.

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