Installing a garage door opener with the uncles.
Uncle Nelson bought a new garage door opener. Somehow, I was recruited to help install it. Don't remember why I was chosen. Uncle Nelson and Uncle Bill were my "helpers". In my usual methodical way (some would say anal, but we will ignore them) I am following the step by step instructions. Meanwhile, my "helpers" are pulling pieces out of the box and saying: "Gary, where does this piece go." I am on step 24 and that piece is for step 87. "Please, just put it back in the box." I reach the point where the rail and trolley are assembled and attached to the door, and the motor unit attached. The motor unit is resting on top of a stepladder, per instructions, in preparation to be hung from the ceiling. At that point, for reasons unknown, Uncle Nelson went outside and flung open the door, which smashed the motor unit onto the concrete floor. There was no visible sign of damage and nothing rattled, so I figured that I might as well complete the installation. Which I did, and naturally it did not work. "Hey Gary, are you sure you wired it right?" My patience with my "helpers" was wearing a bit thin by this point. I removed the motor unit. Uncle Nelson and Uncle Bill returned it to the store and told them it was defective. (If you had been smashed into a concrete floor, you would be defective too.) No one could ever look more innocent than Uncle Bill. The store gave them a new motor unit, it was installed (I believe that I was safely back in Chicago by then) and worked fine. Working with our uncles was always an adventure.
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