Our garage door opener bit the dust late last week. That was the bad news. The good news: HighGuy got it fixed yesterday. All by himself.
He had to have a couple of bunglers in there to help, of course. He got the old motor down, along with the chain and all the other stuff. We disconnected a wire that was holding the door latch so it wouldn’t physically lock, so that way I could still use the garage. I’d just have to open and close it manually.
Uff-da. My shoulder did not like that. I’d strained it — probably dragging the cooler out of HighGuy’s car trunk at the lake. I’ve had bursitis before, so I knew it was going to take ice packs and naproxen sodium to get it back under control. Thankfully, I had both.
But back to the door opener. HighGuy had it all torn apart and was ready to install a different motor; he just needed my help to hold it up there while he put in the screws. I made a trade with him: You hold the motor, I’ll put in the screws. HighGuy’s hands shake, especially when I’m watching him trying to do something where steady hands are needed.
I got the screws in, and looked it over, and then asked, “Doesn’t this pole have to be poked into the hole in the motor first?” Yeah, it did. We took it all apart again, reinstalled the pole that runs from the motor to the wall above the door, and put it back up.
“Uh, honey?” I asked. “Doesn’t the pole have to go through this plastic piece right here?”
Yep. We took the screws out — again — and put the pole through the plastic piece. By then it was getting really warm in the garage. The door was down, so we could work on the door opener. There wasn’t a breath of air in there.
We put everything back together again, and gave it a try. The door opened nicely, and then the plastic piece on the pole got jammed into the motor housing. We took it all apart again, and I found the directions. I told HighGuy that the fine adjustments had to be made with the two smaller dials on the motor housing.
He wasn’t listening. He was cussing. He’d released the chain from the gear in the motor and had scuffed his knuckles in the process. Yay. Someone bled, and it wasn’t me. It’s a tradition. Someone has to bleed before a project is completed.
Sweat was dripping in HighGuy’s eyes, so we called it a night. I had a manual door opener for a couple more days. Then LisaLu Who’s husband tried to help. I don’t know how that went. I just know that when they called it a night, they hadn’t made any progress.
Yesterday HighGuy called me at work and said I’d need to use the door opener for the garage door. He had the remote for it, and it was working. I was overjoyed. When I came home, I used the code box on the door jamb, and the door magically lifted. What a wonderful sight.
I closed the door with the button inside the garage, and the door closed with grace and ease (and a little creaking, but that was normal). Inside the house, I gave HighGuy a big hug and a kiss, and thanked him for fixing the door.
“Yeah,” he said proudly. “I read the directions!”
It WAS those two little dials that fine-tuned how much the door opened and how much it closed. HighGuy just had to open up the motor housing to see for himself how it worked, and then it was a snap!