Harper’s Other Dad and I attempted to go out about 7:00 AM Sunday morning in search of breakfast. Much to our surprise and consternation, the garage door would not open. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know; “hashtag firstworldproblems” and all that. But a car really is a necessity in Harper’s Valley and having a car one cannot get out of the garage is very much like not having a car at all, except you’re still paying to insure it.
I’ll be the first to admit I am no ‘Joe Fix-it’ but it was instantly obvious even to me what was amiss. The large spring above the garage door that assists in lifting its considerable weight was broken. I knew this because it was in two pieces when it used to be only one. Anyone who’s ever looked inside a wind-up toy knows that springs don’t function when only one end is anchored. When one end is free I believe it is more accurately called ‘turning’ rather than ‘winding’. In any case, this spring was offering no assistance at all in opening my garage door. And, of course, this is happening at 7:00 AM when we’d both been somewhat over-served at a neighbor’s party the night before.
Child of the popular culture that I am, my mind immediately turned (not wound) to Tigger.
A wonderful thing is a Tigger
A Tigger’s a wonderful thing.
Their tops are made out of rubber,
their bottoms are made out of spring
They’re bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy,
fun, fun, fun, fun, fun.
“Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy” my Aunt Fanny! If my garage door were a Tigger it’s bottom was stuck to the cold, hard reality of Arizona concrete in the harsh light of a hangover Sunday morning. “Fun, fun, fun” are not words the come first to mind. Tigger can kiss my spring-less butt.
Resourceful individuals that we are, Harper’s Other Dad and I lifted to garage door manually (horrors!) and backed the car out. He had the inspired idea that we should probably back both cars out since the spring was unlikely to heal before Monday morning. I’d already laid my healing hands upon it without success. And I am way too cheap to pay someone to come out on Sunday to fix it. He is so cleaver…. and remarkably clear-headed in the circumstances.
Like so many things in our society, problems can be solved with the application of effort and money. I briefly considered adopting a Tea Party strategy of donning a “Put the white back in the White House” t-shirt and blaming President Obama and illegal immigrants for my broken spring but I thought that was probably not going to make the garage door open. A couple of phone calls and the promise of money brought a nice young man with a truck, tools, and a new spring. By mid-day Monday the door had been repaired and all was right with the world.