If “interesting things” occur in threes, I’m one away and it’s not yet noon.
Heading into the last leg of a bike ride this morning, my cell phone came unclipped from my waistband and skidded into an intersection. Two cars passed by, narrowly missing the chance to turn my new RAZR into high tech roadkill.
I made it home without further adventure, parked the bike in the garage and hit the control on the wall to shut the garage door. Suddenly, a shot rang out…and a pirate ship was spotted on the horizon! OK, I made up the last part, but if you’ve ever heard one of those big honkin’ overhead door coiled springs break, you’ll agree that the former is not an exaggeration. Fortunately, the spring simply snapped rather than disintegrating and sending shrapnel flying in all directions.
This, however, presented a new challenge. My car was now trapped and I have an appointment later this afternoon. You might think that manually lifting a measly 8′ metal garage door would be easy work, spring-assisted or not, and if you do, I bow before your steroid-enabled muscularity. But for scrawny cycling types like me, it’s no picnic.
Juggling the opener remote in one hand, I’d hit the button then heave the door up as far as I could before the opener would grind to a halt with a mechanical hernia. It didn’t help matters when the upper right and lower left guide wheels popped out of their tracks, an aggravatingly symmetrical corollary to Murphy’s Law. We (the opener and I) eventually managed to get the door up just far enough that I was able to back the car out of the garage, clearing the door by less than an inch.
I figure “interesting event” #3 will most likely manifest itself via either the equivalent of a massive myocardial infarction in my poor garage door opener, or else I’ll awaken in the morning unable to move a single muscle thanks to my new workout routine.