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Finding the Silver Lining [Part 2]"Why don't we just see if we can get your car in the garage?" he asked.
I laughed derisively. Or maybe it was maniacally. I've lived in my house for a year and I know for certain my car will not fit in my garage. I thought it would when I bought the house. I drive a Mini Cooper, I mean really. But the first week in the new house I pulled the car toward the garage opening and cursed. A lot.
Luckily Dean didn't take my word for it. He went out to the garage and pulled the door open. He looked, he paced, he measured, and finally he predicted. "I think it will fit. You won't even have to take the side view mirrors off." I thought he was insane, but I played along.
First we removed all that stuff that garages collect: half-full paint cans, unwanted furniture, wood windows I intend to take to Rejuvenation "someday," old light fixtures, old doors, and the freezer. We had to relocate the upright freezer to another area of the garage, which was great training if we ever need to move a dead elephant. But we did it.
"So what?" I thought. I wasn't worried about the space inside of the garage. It was getting through the door that had me worried. I got into the car and began driving. When I reached the opening I inched forward at exactly .000003 miles per hour. Dean stood inside the garage directing me with confusing hand gestures. When my sideview mirrors were at the doorway I had one inch to spare on my left, three on my right. I could do it! Not after wine, of course, but I could do it. Dean angled a push broom in front of the freezer so that when the front bumper touched the bottom of the broom and I saw the top move, I'd know it was time to stop. My hero.
On the top of a dusty shelf we found a garage door opener left behind by the previous owner. Still in its box. I swear, at any moment I expected to see a beaming Jimmy Stewart walk through the back door.
So someone vandalized my car. Twice. I got mad, I got scared, I got homicidal. I'm out $280. On the plus side, I have a garage for my car, and a garage door opener I didn't know I had. Just in time for winter. I tossed the ice scraper I bought last week in with the emptied contents of the garage. When we were clearing all that stuff out, I decided that if this thing worked, if it really worked, I'd put a sign on the garage door for the next time the vandal came and realized the jig was up. I knew exactly what that sign would say, and it wasn't pretty.
But when my Mini was safely tucked and locked in, I thought of a more appropriate sign. I carefully lettered it on a big piece of posterboard and hung it on my garage door.
Dean will probably think it's for him. And that's OK.
