"Oh no I DID int..."

In the movie Apollo 13, one of the guys in the control room says to Gene Kranz (Ed Harris) the director of NASA, “This could be the worst disaster NASA's ever faced.” To which Kranz replies, “With all due respect, sir, I believe this is gonna be our finest hour.” Sometimes disasters lead people to do things they didn’t think they could do. People are forced to be peak performers.

Last night, I did something that I am absolutely MORTIFIED to admit. I can make as many excuses as I want about WHY it happened but the bottom line is:

I tried to back out of my garage without opening my garage door first.

I was on my way to choir practice. I was carrying a bunch of stuff and for some reason, turned the light on in my garage instead of opening the garage door. I had like 5000 things on my mind, including how I had skipped my workout for the second day in a row and needed to make three phone calls during my 5-minute drive. I didn’t even want to go to choir (but we’re performing a new song before mass and 1) I need to feel well-rehearsed before a performance and 2) I acknowledge what it means to make a commitment to a group of people. It means that I show up even when I don’t particularly feel like it. People depend on me). Even before the incident, I was exhausted and stressed out beyond belief.

Luckily, my garage is not very long, so I only rolled for about a foot before hitting the door. And it’s not like I had my foot on the accelerator. I was absolutely riding the break. Boom! My jaw dropped and I sat for a moment in disbelief about what I had done, staring at the door in my rearview mirror thinking, “I can’t believe what I just did.” I pulled forward, got out of my car, and pushed the button to open the garage door. It went up about 2 inches before squealing angrily and ceasing, at which point I squealed angrily and tried not to throw a fit.

I turned off my car (didn’t want anyone to find me dead from carbon monoxide poisoning and realize that backing into the garage door lead to it. That would mean fulfilling my most feared and humiliating destiny: dying from a dual dose of stupidity). I surveyed the damage from inside the garage – nothing obviously broken on the door and nothing obviously broken on my car. I went out my front door and took a look at the damage to the garage door from the outside (side note: it was like 6ºF last night). There was a small crack in the door and it seemed to bow out a bit where I had hit it. So I kicked at where it was warped, which was kinda therapeutic. I went back inside my garage and pushed the button to see if my kicking had made any difference. It hadn’t.

That was the point that I panicked and cried. I called the phone number of the company that installed the garage door. It was 7:30 on a Wednesday night and their hours are 8-5. I called one of my handy guy friends who lives near by. He didn’t pick up. I panicked and cried some more. I tried to figure out how I was going to get the door up. It didn't appear as though I would be able to even manually open it and I probably would have to skip work to get it taken care of.

Then, I had a moment. I realized that no one was going to rescue me. I was going to have to take care of this one myself. I tried not to think about failure and instead focused on how I could make things right again. I took a deep breath, temporarily forgave myself, went back in the house and went online to Google “fix broken garage door” (a positive alternative to “what to do when you back into your garage door and break it.”) I read through one of the first sites and it encouraged me to do a thorough inspection of all the hinges, gaps, and the track. It gave me some ideas on problems to look for. Inspired, I bundled up, grabbed a wrench, a hammer, and a flashlight and headed back into the garage to inspect my door.

I have a two-car garage and I don’t park in the middle – I park to one side. I carefully inspected the side further from the damage and all the rollers were on the track, the track looked pretty straight, nothing popped out at me as being wrong. Then I carefully inspected the other side. I immediately saw that one of the rollers was off the track! I realized I wouldn’t be able to get the roller back on the track without the help of another body. I called a friend and as I was calling her, realized I probably could just ask a neighbor. (I wasn’t thinking very clearly.) My friend promised she would come over if I couldn’t find a neighbor.

I went and knocked on the door of the people across the street. The couple who lives there seems to be in their late 50s with adult children and the guy seems like he might be pretty handy. I recognized the husband when he opened the door and told him how embarrassed I was and I know how cold it is but would he please help? I explained the situation as he bundled up and I broke down in tears. "I'm just so tired and I can't believe I did this!" Smooth. But really, who can say no to a 20 something year old girl who’s crying?

So I showed him the problem and explained how I thought we should fix it. I proposed that I’d push the door in from the outside while he pops the roller in place in the track. Through my embarrassment, I tried to remain calm and confident but I didn’t really think we’d be able to make it happen. But by golly, he actually was able to pop the roller into the track! I pushed the open button and the door went up about half way before making the same angry squeal as before and stopping.

When I was little, there was a game in the newspaper every day which showed two nearly identical drawings except there would be 6 differences between the two. I liked that game and was pretty good at it. Channeling my inner 6 year old, I further inspected the good side of the garage door and then looked at the bad side and saw a discrepancy. There’s a flap connected to the handle for when you’re manually opening the door from the outside. On the good side, the flap was outside the track and on the bad side, the flap was inside the track. The door wouldn’t go up any further because the flap inside the track was caught in a divot on the track. I pointed this out to my neighbor and THIS IS THE BEST PART. The guy quickly says, “No, that’s not the problem.”

I thought to myself, “Now, I know I’m dumb enough to have backed into my garage door and you probably think I’m the biggest ditz ever, but I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.” I tried to be diplomatic, accepting that I could be wrong, and asked him if we could go back to his house to look at his garage door. We checked out his door and he realizes the error of his ways. We go back to my place and realize the flap is pretty far into the track and we’re both trying to figure out how we can like, shoehorn the flap out of the track. He picks up my wrench AND my hammer and starts banging and prying away and I’m like, “Argh! That’s my track! Stop!”

Now usually, “Pulling/pushing harder” is not the way to fix things. In fact, I broke a ceiling fan a couple years ago when I was trying to replace a light bulb and thought I just needed to “push harder.” (See The Idiot Tax) Throwing that rule to the wayside, I politely asked him to get out of my way. I grabbed the flap and pulled it as hard as I could. To my surprise, the flap popped out of the track!

I pushed the open button and the garage door opens like nothing ever happened! No squealing, no straining, just the smooth power of the motor. The bumpy track on the one side didn’t seem to phase my door. I rejoiced and gave my neighbor a huge hug. (I think I owe him some candy.)

After our success, I went to choir practice, about an hour late.

Words can’t explain how embarrassed I am about my mistake. Even though I created the disaster, I’m pretty sure I experienced some growth by making things right again. Last night, I was my hero. I used my skill set, faced an obstacle head on (after hitting an obstacle head on) and managed to rescue myself from the pits of despair. That’s quite an accomplishment for a Wednesday night.