The Backroads Thevictorians

Sometimes, Val's got nothin'. Which does not necessarily prevent her from posting.

Come and listen to a story 'bout a gal named Val.

Poor educator feels like throwin' in the towel.

'Cause one day as she opened the garage,

The door spring snapped and she felt a need to dodge.

(Flying metal, that is. Sidestepping a head injury.)

Well the next thing you know, ol' Hick commenced to clamp.

The kinfolk said, "Val, let's not forget your lamp."

Said, "A proper spring is the thing you need to have,"

But Val ducked behind her T-Hoe, and went shopping for some salve.

(Ointment, that is, to cure a puncture wound.)

Now it's time to say goodbye to Val, maybe for good.

If that clamped spring snaps, as we all know it could,

Val would be a goner pure and simple that is true,

Despite the healing claims of that antibiotic goo.

(Y'all remember Val now, y'hear?)

It was months ago that my garage door spring snapped as I closed the door, nearly trapping The Pony and me and T-Hoe in the garage the next morning. Luckily we had Hick to get us out, and tell us how to proceed with the manual pull chain. Then he got out a clamp on the weekend, and said that would hold the giant spring until we could get a new one made, like I did last summer for HIS garage door. Yet Hick will not take the broken one down so I can haul it to the garage door place for measurement. Their records did not include details on our other spring, only the date and cost and check number.

Every time I enter or leave the garage, I fear for my life. I even wait until The Pony is out before I open or close that garage door. I lean my head over beside the garage wall, under the shelf that now holds the black roaster pan full of cat kibble, and reach around inside the garage to push the doorbell-like button that opens and closes the deathtrap, so that the spring does not shoot off and pierce my skull, splattering gray matter across the sidewalk and porch. Seriously. A clamp is not a permanent solution.

I'm like Meryl Streep as Aunt Josephine in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. I must protect myself and my little Pony from the doom that could befall us due to this giant spring. I stop short of warning The Pony not to touch the doorknobs because they might explode, or to stay away from the refrigerator because it may fall on him. But I don't mess around with that clamped spring.

One of these days, Hick will take a precious 30 minutes out of his schedule and remove the two pieces of that garage door spring so I can get a replacement. Until then, I'm living dangerously.