I seem to remember a lot of home improvement was started in
our house due to what looked like random occurrence.
We lived in a two-storey
home with attached garage on the side. The garage became our family room one
year because as Dad was backing the car in after a camping trip, the bumper of
the car clipped the side of the garage door frame and knocked the overhead door
support off the opening. Silly car.
A few weeks later (with a substantially larger ‘adult’
vocabulary), we had a framed in window instead of a garage door and a new family
room.
The cars remained parked on the street for the next couple
of years. One winter morning, Dad went out to start the car and saw that the
extension cord for the block heater had been cut, most likely by a kid skating
down the sidewalk to go to the rinks at the end of the street. Yes, we could
skate on our sidewalks back then. No, it wasn’t the last Ice Age either. Don’t
be cheeky.
So that Spring, Dad decided to build a double carport off
the back alley. He and Mom went wandering around the neighbourhood, measuring
tape and pad in hand, measuring all the double garages they could find. Dad
kept measuring all the door widths, Mom would dutifully write them down and when
he could get into a yard without getting caught, Dad would measure the depth of
the garage.
After the fourth or fiftieth door measurement, Mom asked why
they were measuring only the doorway and not the full width of the garage. Dad
said something about standards, and he would add the extra width later – he
just wanted to see how much room we needed.
Time passed, the deck area was built and it was time to set
the posts for the roof of the carport. I had the post holes dug, all nine of
them, four feet deep. Dad decided to mix the cement up and pour each hole as we
set the posts, Mom was watching from the deck and as the first couple went in,
she mentioned that they looked pretty close together, did Dad check the width?
As he struggled with a 12 by 12 post, he said yes, he did
check the width, it’s just fine, I’m a little busy right now, dear. As we set
the last post, Dad went up onto the deck and told my sister and me to drive the
cars in to see how they fit.
My sister pulled in Dad’s car and I followed carefully with
Mom’s. As I eased into place, I saw Mom look up at Dad, slowly shake her head
and walk back into the house. There was about three inches of room on each side
of the car and about two inches between the cars. You could park, but you
couldn’t get out. Dad forgot about the extra three feet on each side.
More adult vocabulary examples and exhortations to get the
cars out of the way so we could pull the posts before the concrete set.
We managed to get three side posts out, but had to cut the
others. After lots of measuring, mumbling and the odd stiff drink, it was
decided to cut away another five feet of backyard to make enough room. This
meant pulling up the sidewalk stones and digging five feet in and three feet
deep. This was probably my biggest learning moment I have ever had regarding
renovations and construction.
Pay attention now. Whenever the boss/foreman/father makes a
slight, six-foot error, do not make eye contact or bring his attention to the
aforementioned error. This will result in you becoming far too familiar with
shovels, pickaxes and manual post-hole diggers.
Trust me.
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