The doctor must have put my pacemaker in wrong . Every time my husband kisses me , the garage door goes up . —- Minnie Pearl
My garage may be messy , but Abraham knows where everything is . —-Mary Lincoln
” It’s in the Garage .” —–Abe Lincoln
Friend Willie still jokes about Americans and their garages . No one uses them for their vehicles , he says . Ah , he’s right in many cases . I do notice garages clean and neat and ready for the family car , however . Or , once in awhile , not so neat . A two-car garage with two vehicles parked in it is a sight to see ! It happens .
Remember , this is southern California , land of eternal sunshine . The snow drifts don’t bother us or our cars in Arcadia . Sure , we get ashes some years from the brush fires , but most of the visible air pollution seems to be gone . It doesn’t settle on the car surfaces any more .
I have a neighbor who always puts her car in her garage . Her garage is not so neat , I’d say . Kind of cluttered , but everting is shoved up ‘gainst the walls . Her husband said she was a pack rat . I’ll let that comment pass . I try not to use labels .
I used to help them get their automatic garage door working once again when it would go on the blink . It was kind of hard to get my foot up high enough to kick the thing . Pretty much impossible , really . The main part is mounted near the ceiling . So , my tried and true kick-the-broken-thing method wouldn’t have been practical . I needed to go to plan B . Plan B always starts with a closer look at the problem .
Hey , do you have a manual for this thing ? ” The thing’s a hundred years old ! ” was the answer I got . In other words : no manual .
There’s the internet these days , of course . That’d be plan C . Plan C’s usually a good one . I could easily find a video or two or more showing me how to repair the thing . Some man in Minnesota , most likely , with a pliers and a screw driver and a calm way of giving step-by-step advice . Plan C -2 is to ask someone who knows . But no one who knows is ever nearby at the moment . That’s why I’m there in the neighbor’s garage , staring at the mechanism that’s mounted up under the roof , confidently willing to go where angels fear to tread — or something along those lines .
Willie doesn’t have a garage , by the way . Easy for a guy like that to be flippant about Americans and their cluttered garages . He’s English , by the way . Need I say more ?
He’s absolutely right about my garage , though . We couldn’t get a car in there during any ordinary day even if there was an executive order to do it . I did get Ada’s car in there last year , however . Just barely , but I got it in . I used a shoehorn and some WD-40 , but it eventually squeezed in comfortably enough .
I called Salvation Army to come get the big blue sofa that has been sitting in the garage , the sofa that we haven’t had inside the house for a few months now . Three weeks after my call the Salvation Army came around . Some time between 7:00am and 5:00 pm , the woman said . Sign me up , I said !
Two guys and a large truck carried the thing away . That was yesterday . I don’t know what to do with all the room in the garage now . I should think about parking my car in there before more stuff shows up to somehow stealthily steal away the suddenly open space .
I might invite Willie over to have a look if I get the car in there . Willie , by the way , helped me re-program my remote control for my automatic garage door . That was a hundred years ago . Maybe more . We never even had a manual , as I recall , or the internet , for that matter . We put our brains together . Anyone with half a brain could have done it , I’m sure , as long as they put their two half-brains together .