Just a minor collision. A lady shopper reversing in the car park didn’t notice my wife, Wendy, driving past behind her. There was a crunch of deforming metal as her car’s rear end embedded itself in the passenger-side door of our car. The post-collision discussions lacked any heat—it was clear who was at fault and Wendy agreed to get a quote for repairs to the door, which the other party, uninsured, would pay.
The local crash-repairer quoted for a new paint-matched door and, separately, for fitting it. I met with the errant parker’s husband and offered, if he met the cost of the new door, to do the fitting job myself. After all, blokes can do anything! What could possibly go wrong? He accepted my offer, after glancing at the saving I was offering him by removing his liability for fitting costs.
In due course a door was available, and the crash repairer grumpily passed it over with a warning that I might regret my DIY plans: ‘Bound to scratch it—not as easy as you might think. Shoulda left it to us.’ I waved off his protests.
He was right, of course, I did scratch it, but just a little, and it was difficult to transfer all the door fittings to the new door. Compounding my challenges, the day I set to work was time-limited: we had evening theatre bookings. As the departure deadline loomed the door had a window, was attached to the car, but lacked handles and a lock.
Easily fixed—all it needed was a rope tied to the inside of the door to hold it closed, crossing the front seats and tied to the opposite door. Final repairs to be made the next day. I considered this a good outcome but less so did Wendy, objecting to having to enter via a back door, clamber through to the front and wriggle under a rope across her lap. Even elegant solutions have down-sides.
Burnside Writers Group 