Did you know that more people visited my blog last year looking for information about garage door deaths, broken garage doors, and deaths by garage door springs than for any other search using Google, AOL, Search or Yahoo combined.
Seriously. More people than those looking for information about rose colored glasses … the name of my blog.
And so it makes me wonder if there are that many people getting killed by garage doors or if there are that many people wondering if it would be a viable way to, you know, off that annoying mother-in-law. Who looks up information about death by garage door spring?
And so I’ve come to the conclusion that as a writer, I really need to give the masses more of what they want. With that in mind, I give you my latest adventure with a garage door, a Honda Pilot, and a very zealous (and worried) wife.
When my daughter – now in her first year in college – was still in a car seat, I distinctly remember the conversation one night around the table.
“Daddy, did you know Mommy drives into the garage before the garage door is up?”
Nevermind that this is an impossibility, the horror of it led to a very lengthy lecture from my beloved spouse about the dangers of driving into a garage without the garage door being up. (I’m thinking garage door springs, broken garage doors, death or maimed for life and a few other dramatizations came up in the memorable conversation.)
And so it was that I learned that I must wait for the garage door to actually go up before I could drive into the garage. Gee. Like that wasn’t something I already knew.
Fast-forward to the present. I get in our trusty Honda Pilot, push the garage door opener, start the engine and wait for the garage door to go all the way up. As you can see, I’m a quick study.
I back up slowly only to hear a loud BANG on the top of the Pilot. I look up through the sun roof to see the garage door is now sitting on top of the rails on top of the Pilot. I push the garage door opener and hear a loud hum, but the door doesn’t budge.
I consider my options. I can get out of the vehicle, leave it stranded halfway in the garage, and go back to bed. This seems like the best option, but I don’t take it. Instead I decide to gun the engine and pull out faster than the garage door can go down.
Looking back on this, it was definitely a stupid option. But sometimes stupid and luck go hand-in-hand. I back out, put the vehicle in park, and get out to inspect the damage.
Honda knows how to make some tough rails. That’s all I can say. Not a scratch in sight – which led the insane part of me to consider the option of a cover-up. I know. I missed my calling to go into politics, but such is life. And then I look at the garage door, suspended in air like a swinging halloween decoration with a large dent in the bottom panel. All I can think of is John Candy in Planes, Trains & Automobiles looking at the burnt-out, beat-up rental car and saying, “That’ll buff right out of there.”
I tried to buff. And bang. And hammer. To no avail. And so I did the next best thing.
I sent an email to my better half, complete with a snapshot of the damage via my iPhone. You see, I also learned back when my daughter was still in a car seat that bad news is best served hot. That way it has time to cool off before it’s time to pay the piper. I wouldn’t blame him if my poor husband spent the rest of the day looking up ways that someone could die by garage door spring mishaps, but he didn’t share any of the research with me.