Something Fred said on his blog, and then something that Girl From Florida commented about garage doors on Fred's blog, made me think of a little bitty incident that happened at my house about four years ago.
It was a beautiful Saturday. Absolutely perfect. I hadn't retired yet, the husband was at a bookstore, and I was all set for a wonderful, lazy day off. Oh! The day was just so wonderful.
I decided to go somewhere...I've forgotten just where. The day was just too nice to waste. Gotta get out and do something. I backed out of the garage, used the automatic door opener and closed the garage door. Everyone calls the remote for a garage an opener, but it's a closer too..,wonder why that is? Oh, well.
We had very recently had a new front door to the house installed. Mahogany. Boy, it was, and is, a thing of beauty. I just love that door, and we get a lot of compliments on it. As I was just glancing at our new front house door to admire it, I saw some kind of paper flyer stuck in the door handle. Geez. I hate that.
So, I put the car in park, walk in front of it, and go to the front door to retrieve the paper stuck there. I look at the flyer; it's political. Urge to kill, and decision not to vote for the perpetrator. I look back at the idling car in the driveway. It is slowly, slowly, driving itself towards the garage door!
What the $#@%? It was in park! Yes, it was! I had walked in front of it! IT WAS IN PARK! Holy S**T! It's going uphill!
I run for the car. Of course I'm on the wrong side of it, have to run around to the driver's side to stop it. Visions of killing myself or breaking a leg quickly run through my head, but other visions of the damn car driving itself into the closed garage door and all the way through the back of the garage keep me running to stop the @!#$^&% thing.
I don't get to it in time to keep it from running into the garage door, but I do save the garage itself. Since the garage is all brick, and attached to the house, this is no small victory.
Well, I go into the house and call the place that installed the garage door, which isn't all that old. "So what happened to the door?" the guy asked.
"It got driven into by a car," I tell him.
"Your husband or you?" he asks.
"Yeah, it's usually the wife," he said. Some men.
The door service can't come out until Monday. Sigh.
I'm going to have to confess to the husband. Another sigh.
Soooo, I drive to the bookstore, find the husband, and walk up to him. He looks surprised. He can tell from looking at me that something is wrong. I kiss him on the lips, just a peck, and say, "How much do you love me?"
"What did you hit, and how bad is it?"
"The car drove itself into the garage door."
"Well, I guess I love you enough to buy a new garage door," he said.
It really did drive itself into the door. I wasn't even in the damn car. It just took off on its own. Willy nilly. Like that. Not my fault. I don't know how it happened. There are some things even the great and wonderful Wizard of Oz doesn't know. How can I know?
I always wanted a garage door with "lites." Shoulda got one in the first place. That's what they call windows in a garage door. Lites. At least that's what this company called them. This new one has decorative windows all the way across. Looks very nice. Especially with that beautiful mahogany front door on the house. It all looked so good I had to buy new shutters to keep up.