A door, and another blue collar guy.

The remains of a 29 year old garage spring.

This morning I was awakened from my nap by dear old dad. At first I thought it to be some medical matter. I am glad that wasn’t the issue. You see, today is Tuesday, a dedicated card playing afternoon for a bunch of guys at the Churchville Restaurant, The problem was that he couldn’t get the garage door to open. When I arrived a minute later he said he thought he found the problem – “I think the spring is broken”. Indeed he was correct  And so that he could get to cards, I did my best at playing the part of a weightlifter and manually opened the door nearly loosing one of my gonads on the cement floor.

The remains of a 29 year old garage spring.

Dad made it to cards and I called one of “the guys” I know. During the day (or night) he is one of the crime fighting fire investigators I work with, On his off days, he does garage doors and openers. I texted, he called, he arrived – all in less than two hours time. I sent him a picture or two of the door’s hardware and in his truck he had the correct parts. Normally, I try and fix most things myself. But I have heard some serious horror stories of the springs failing and/or being installed incorrectly.

It took him under an hour to remove both springs that are 29 years old, and replace them. He also adjusted the opener. Perfection. He went the extra mile in making sure all was good for dad. You can’t beat that kind of service – or the price. The door is also 29 years old and nearing the end of it’s service life, so I got a quote on that before he left.

Mr. Cortez finishing up the install of new springs.

It pays to know a guy or two that can take care of stuff like this.