I HEARD A NOISE
By Duncan
I didn’t pay too much attention to the noise, but it was a “noise.”
I was seated at the Command Center, ready to tell a story. Suddenly, I heard a ‘thud’ in the kitchen, like dishes falling to the floor. Something had dropped, and it sounded heavy. Curiosity got the better of me, so I got up from my Attila the Hun Office Chair, turned off the space heater under my desk, and decided to investigate.
I walked into the open area, and I noticed Barney, my Golden Retriever, lifting his head from the floor. Mildly happy to see me. I assumed he was thinking I might give him something to eat. There was no hint of guilt in his expression—he was just hoping for a treat. I continued searching through the kitchen, living room, and bedrooms.
Despite my thorough check, I didn’t see anything out of place. However, I know I heard a noise. The house was still standing; it wasn’t on fire, and there were no Santa Ana winds. Gavin Newsom was nowhere to be found, and there were no signs of a mudslide, earthquake, or tsunami. We have cold weather, snow, and icicles hanging off the gutters. Maybe an icicle fell, and that’s what I heard.
Satisfied that everything was fine, I decided to return to my storytelling. That was a Saturday. Central Indiana has received about 5-6 inches of snow last week. It’s cold (17°), and I am not motivated to get out and move snow off the driveway. I decided that I believed in global warming, and I had this inclination that the snow on my driveway wouldn’t be a problem in June. I checked with a couple of climate change professors at the University of Saskatchewan, and I was assured that in June, the odds would be in my favor, and I wouldn’t have snow on my driveway. I wanted to make sure I checked the Farmers Almanac.
We are at the end of a season. NFL Football Season. Only a few games are left to be played. And because it’s now Sunday, I decided I might want to run out, get some wings and a pizza, and overdose on football today. (Sunday)
I realize I still have 5-6 inches of snow on my driveway. I will leave ‘Mean Yellow” in the garage and use the fire engine red Mercedes SUV to stock up on provisions. The Mercedes will surely be able to back out of the driveway. I just need to make sure I back out ‘with authority.’
So, I put on my heaviest coat and checked to ensure I had the gloves with fur inside. I headed for the garage. I opened the utility door to the garage. I reached around to hit the electric garage door remote on the wall. The garage door went nowhere. The Genie Chair Drive 550 Garage Door opener did nothing. Oh, it tried to lift the door, but no go. I pushed the button again, it didn’t move. What is going on?
The door is frozen to the pavement, I thought to myself. I got a pitcher of hot water and poured the water outside the bottom of the Garage Door. I did that twice. That should take care of the problem. (My first time walking in 5-6 inches of snow this season.)
Okay, this wings/pizza idea is starting to sound like it’s more trouble than it’s worth.
I went back inside the garage and pushed the remote again. NOTHING. I then realized I had a problem with the Geni Chain Drive 550 Garage Door Opener. I walked to the center of the door and pulled on that red handle that released the Electric Geni 550 Garage Door opener from the door. The door and the machine released the tension on each other. And I could tell this was progress. I felt much more secure; I could lift the door manually. Then, I could figure out what I needed to do about a repair. I graded the horizontal bars on the door as I had done when the machine and the door got sideways with each other. However, this time, the door weighed a ton.
I know I’m getting old, but … I tried again. The Geni and the door are not connected. What in the world could be going on here?
I looked to my right and focused on the little wheel at the top of the door. The wheel that wraps the cable and pulls the door up. The cable/wire is loose. It’s just hanging there. This is not good!
I have two vehicles in the garage. Mean Yellow and the SUV, and there is no way to leave or get the cars out of the garage. No Wings, no Pizza. I'm not going anywhere with a broken wire on my garage door. I’m sure not walking a mile or more in 5-6 inches of snow and 17° weather to bring home food for a football game. Thinking out loud, I still have several bags of potato chips.
But I also realized I was in a pickle without the meat, lettuce, tomato, and bun. At some point, I will need to get the cars out of the garage for something more important than football food.
At a moment like this, a man like me says to himself, “I can fix this, no problem.”
I’m smart; I have tools, and I see the problem. It’s an easy fix. Then I realized I was standing in the 20° garage, a few degrees warmer than outside. The adrenaline in my body had disappeared along with my self-confidence. Common sense started seeping back into my corpuscles, or is it called surrendering, conceding, succumbing, or throwing in the towel?
You know the feeling when the red lights are flashing behind you, and you look at your speedometer. The question you ask yourself is, “Can I outrun this SOB? … Do you feel lucky … Punk? The only way to fix this is to admit I can’t fix this with two cars parked in a cold garage.
It’s Sunday. Who to call? I returned to the living area and removed my fur-lined gloves and dark blue parka. I tossed the parka across a chair. I had a problem, and I needed to think this through.
There is nothing to do except to call a “Garage Door Fix-it Company.”
Will anyone answer their phone on a Sunday afternoon? Will I need to leave a message? I opened the browser on my computer and typed in “Garage Door Repair.” And up pops fifteen garage door companies. At this point, I felt like a man sitting in front of a slot machine. I pull the handle, and what do I get?
“I'm not a kid anymore; I know I'm getting old. In Vegas, I played the slot machine. Three prunes came up.” Rodney Dangerfield.
How many garage door companies are there in Indianapolis, and how many cards are in a deck of cards? It’s the Joker I’m worried about. Holy cow, this could be expensive. It’s Sunday. Overtime rates? I can hear them saying,
“I can’t get to you until Tuesday.”
What to expect? I need to slow down and take a deep breath. I go through all the offerings, and I realize it’s a crap shoot. I see a company logo below. It's a kind of mom-and-pop-looking presentation. I love the mom-and-pop restaurants. I’m thinking this could be the same thing. Okay, I decided to toss the dice on the table. I dialed the number.
Three rings and a young woman answered the phone. “Garage Door Doctor.”
“Yes, I need a garage door repaired.”
“What is your address?”
“I gave my address.”
“A tech will be there between 3:00 PM and 6:00 PM. When he arrives, he will give you an estimate, and then you can decide if you want to move forward; there is no cost for an estimate. He will call you and let you know when he is on the way so you know who is approaching your home.”
I realized, “There is a possibility that the door will be fixed today.”
An hour later, I got the call.
“My name is Colby. I work for Garage Door Doctor, and I am on the way. I will be there in about 10 minutes. Do you have any idea what the problem might be?”
“Colby, all I know is the door will not go up. A wire on the right end of the door that goes to the wheel at the top of the garage door is loose.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in about 10 minutes, and I will look at it.”
I somehow knew he was here. Wow, what a bright logo on the side of the truck. I assume the rest of the neighborhood will know what’s happening at the Duncan house. I can’t keep this repair a secret from the neighbors.
Colby entered the house. Colby looked to be in his mid-20s. Is this what I suspected in the way of a seasoned garage door guy?
Colby wanted to take a look at the door from the inside. I guided him through the living, kitchen, and laundry areas. I opened the door to the garage. He stepped into the garage. I pointed to the wheel on the right side of the door. Letting him know I was as proficient at this garage door repair thing as he was. Needless to say, Colby looked at the door for a nano-second and said,
“I know you noticed the large spring in the middle of the door is broken, Right?”
I looked at the top of the door where a rod ran from one end to the other, and on that rod, the big black spring was hanging on the bar, broken into two pieces. I’m dumber than I look. I had not noticed the large, dangerous black heavyweight spring over the door in two pieces. I stood there looking at the broken spring, dandling helplessly like a piece of low-hanging fruit. I realized what the noise was yesterday. That noise I heard yesterday was the spring letting go of the tension on the garage door. The spring broke, and the bar released the pressure on the wheels and wires at each end that lifted the door.
Now, it was time for the bad news. For some reason, I hoped repairing the garage door would cost about $500.00 or less. I was about to get a shock.
“Mr. Duncan, I can replace the broken spring and have you back to normal. The repair cost will depend on which spring you want me to install. I have a set of springs that will last 20-30 years at $1,060. Or I have a set of springs with a three-year guarantee for $604.00.
“Colby, look at me; I will not be alive in 20-30 years. $604.00 … you got to be kidding.”
Colby stepped back a little and tried to explain everything is expensive today. Then he looked at me and pulled a chest full of air,
“So, Mr. Duncan, you're telling me you want to gamble on the less expensive springs?”
I grabbed Colby and pulled him back into the garage. “Colby, look at my broken springs. Those springs have been working for twenty years. The house was built in 1994. “Colby, are you telling me that the springs installed on this garage door by a frugal builder (MI Homes) twenty years ago are better quality than those you want to install? So, in the last twenty years, springs have not improved; they are designed to fatigue and break in three years. Is that what you are selling?”
Colby has a smile on his face.
Colby, if I were your Dad, and you were replacing his springs, would you put springs on his door that only lasted three years?
“I didn’t say they would only last three years. As a company, I said that the company guarantees the springs for three years.”
“How long have you been working for this company?”
“Two years,”
“How many springs has the company had to replace since you have worked for this company?”
“I don’t know of any.”
“Labor is free for the first two years (if something goes wrong), and you will replace the springs if they break in the first three years?”
Colby had a smile, and I had a big smile.
“Colby, you like your job?”
“Well, parts of it.”
“And this part, upselling me on a more expensive spring, is fun for you?”
Colby looked at the floor.
Let’s take a chance on the less expensive spring. Would you fix my garage door?”
I stood behind him, interested in the mechanics of replacing the spring. In the back of my mind, I had always been told not to mess with a garage door spring with 80-100 pounds of torque. Something about a spring that can kill someone; as Colby was repairing, we discussed horror stories about garage door springs. He was willing to talk about interesting stories.
“Do you know the garage door springs next to the rails? Not the ones over the door but the ones that slide along the rails where the door travels. We got a call from a woman who had a spring let go, and it went through the garage wall into her kitchen and landed on her stove. It was under so much pressure that it acted like a rocket. Now, that one will kill you.”
“Look at this picture.” (He showed me a picture on his phone) The picture was of a car that had backed out of the garage, and the driver forgot to open the garage door. The garage door was draped over the car’s trunk.
“That one required two guys to fix that problem.”
I asked his first name again.
“Colby, like the cheeze.”
“Colby, do you like your job?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There has got to be something else out there that I want to do more than this.”
I had initially given this young man a hard time. I did it with a smile; we were now having what might be called a “bromance.” Remember, “bromance” is two men who enjoy each other’s company without a relationship. Why do I say that? He answered honestly about whether he enjoyed working as a garage door fixer. He is working on my garage door and is honest enough to tell me he is not exactly thrilled to be doing what he’s doing.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four (24)”
“Married?”
“Divorced.”
“Kids?”
“Two.”
“Ages?”
“Four and six.”
“Joint custody?”
“Yes, I see them every other weekend. I’m trying to recover from the divorce. I live with my parents until I can save some money.”
“Do you like kids?”
“Yes, very much.”
Colby was in the process of finishing up the job. He had a few more bolts and screws to check, whatever a garage guy does before he finishes his repair.
Joe Allman used to live behind me. Joe passed away last year. I think of him from time to time. Joe was a drinking buddy. Joe would always ask anyone who came to work on his home to have a beer with him. I’m standing there looking at this 24-year-old young man. And I think to myself, what would Joe do?
“If you don’t have another job to go to, join me in the kitchen and share a beer with me. (As most of you know, I don’t drink beer.)
“Oh, that’s nice of you, but I must get home. But we had to do the paperwork when I put my tools in the truck. My favorite part of the job.”
“I understand. Okay, I'll meet you in the kitchen.”
Colby came into the kitchen with a clipboard. I was pouring myself a Scotch. He wanted to know what I was drinking. I was using an elegant decanter with no label on the bottle. I told him it was Scotch. He said,
“I don’t like the taste of Scotch.”
“Most people your age don’t. It’s an acquired taste. Wait a few years; you might change your mind.”
Again, I offered him a beer. I turned and reached for a towel on the counter. He didn’t refuse this time. I opened the drink cooler under the kitchen bar and offered two beer brands. He indicated he would try the Yuengling Ale.
With the paperwork out of the way, we started to talk.
“So, you are divorced, with two kids, and you're 24-years-old. You have worked for this garage door repair company for a couple of years. Do you want to find something a little more challenging? Or are you looking to make more money to get back on your feet? What is your plan?
“Right now, I’m not sure which way to go. I need to find a place of my own, but with child support and the expense of the kids, I’m forced to stay at my parent's home. It’s tough right now.”
“Are you dating anyone right now, or are you feeling like women are troublesome?“
He was in no mood to talk about dating or consider any woman for a long time, if ever. With my advanced years of experience, I realized that negativity toward women will end at some point, and he will have a different attitude about women. It will happen, I had to smile.
He wanted to know why I was smiling.
Because you have your whole life ahead of you, and you have no idea what will happen. We talked about women in general. We talked about what they want and what a man wants. I won’t discuss details here, but it was an interesting conversation. I had forgotten what the mind of a twenty-four-year-old man thinks. It takes me back. I’m still smiling.
And my friends, this has been the story about “The Noise.”
