Thursday, May 08, 2008

All your garage doors are belong to us...

Our garage door opener broke. It was 35 years old. It gave many great years of service to everyone else it opened and closed for. BUT we move in, and all of a sudden it's all "I'm tired" and "I don't feel like opening today" and "How about I spit this sprocket at you, huh?!"

During the next two weeks, the Scotsman spent countless hours at specialty hardware stores, local small ancient hardware stores, re-sale stores, even bike stores, looking for a replacement for our lovely 35 year old sprocket, so he could repair the existing garage door. NO WHERE does anyone, on any planet, make sprockets like the one we needed. NO ONE. NO WHERE. NOT ANYMORE. JUST. NO. (We knew this could be a possibility because when we went to The Overhead Door Company to request a second garage door opener for my use when we first moved into the house, they took one look at the giant brown remote from 1976 that the Scotsman had in his hand, laughed, and asked us if we didn't just want to donate that model to their "museum of relics" and buy a whole new set. We said no. Ours works just fine.)

(Ha- I now see what happened. The Overhead Garage Door Company, seeing a business opportunity, snuck into our garage and ruined our sprocket ON PURPOSE!)

SO, after the Great Sprocket Search, we found out that you can get a tiny new sprocket made for $85. Or a completely new garage door with all brand-new parts for $180. Hmm...

For awhile, the Scotsman decided he would open the garage door by hand while he thought about what to do. But, sadly, this required him to back the Millenium Falcon out of her space for me every morning so that he could CLOSE the door before leaving for work everyday. We learned the hard way that it's not safe to leave a garage door open on our street. (Suddenly, all the neighbors' yards look suspiciously weed-free when someone takes your brand-new weed-eater in the night!)

After all the weight-lifting and squeezing into my tiny vehicle, we finally made the decision to get a whole new set. That was on Friday night. We will let go of $180 to buy a new door, we said.

Saturday morning: The Scotsman tries to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Oddly, much swearing seems to be involved, instead of his usual happy-morning-banter with Mr. Yellow.
Why? Because Oven, hearing that Garage Door was on strike, decided he was going to break also.

We went out to breakfast. Silent Scotsman. We bought the garage door opener set. Steam-at-the-Ears Scotsman. The Scotsman begins to install said garage door opener set. SWEARING Scotsman!

You know the "blue cloud of obscenities hanging over Lake Michigan" created by the dad in Christmas Story? Well, it's floated south a bit. It now hangs over my house. Specifically, the garage.

Several, and I mean several, hours pass, and the swearing goes from muttered-utterances to full-out, I-can-hear-it-from-the-other-side-of-the-house tirades streaming up and down the street. It was getting annoying.

So, I got my purse and my sunglasses and got OUT of there, "I'll be back in a couple hours" shouted over my shoulder as I back out of the drive!

When I got back, the Scotsman was still toiling away (something about completely unnecessary coordinating lasers being mandatory to open and close the door...)

I went to bed.

We now have a garage door that works.

Can't wait 'til work starts on the oven... at


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