The window that wouldn’t work
What goes up usually comes down. I say usually in this instance because most objects that go up come down, from flipped coins to my bank account. That’s the self-correcting function of gravity (and economics) for you. But the tired old adage of what goes up must come down obviously does not apply to my driver’s side power window.
Two years ago my power window bit the big one. It was having problems going down and struggled mightily to go back up. Then one day it stopped working all together. I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal, and by not fixing it I would save some moolah, even if the stubborn window was a major pain in the glass.
That all changed the first couple of times I tried ordering fast food. I found it entirely too inconvenient to continually open my door to yell into the speaker, pay the cashier and grab my food once it was ready. I kept accidentally banging my door on sides of restaurants. Not to mention it was always incredibly awkward picking up my burgers and fries. There was never a right angle I could park at without needing to stretch like Armstrong or physically getting out of my truck to grab my bag of empty calories.
I got so fed up with my window that after awhile I stopped frequenting fast food drive-throughs period. It just became too much of a hassle.
And you know what? Now I barely even bother with fast food. Being inconvenienced is what led to my healthier lifestyle of eating food that’s actually good for me. It wasn’t anti-fast food advocacy, the threat of multiple heart attacks or even the fact that most hamburgers have more bone meal in them than actual meat. It was a faulty window.
I think I am on to something here. This nation is looking for a clear fix to the child obesity problem weighing down this country. Well, start disabling your power windows and watch the pounds practically melt away from the midriff region.
But the credit for my health conscious choice doesn’t solely rest with a deficient power window. I also credit the erroneous ingenuity and engineering feats of major car companies, who, even after getting bailed out, still are incapable of producing a reliable automobile.
I am looking at you here specifically, Chevy Cobalt, which is the vehicle my wife drives. Still support the auto bail out? Great, I have a car — and a bridge in Brooklyn — that I would be willing to sell you.
But this broken power window isn’t all it is cracked up to be. It has made asking for directions next to impossible. Imagine, if you will, you are walking down a darkened street when I show up. I stop my truck, but I don’t, and can’t, roll down my window. So instead I open the door and start walking toward you with a look of sheer desperation on my face.
That’s a good way to get sprayed with a can of pepper spray.
Another problem is summer is just around the corner and I don’t look forward to the commutes to work in the blazing heat. Not only does my window refuse to go down, but my air conditioning no longer works. The silver lining to that is I am sweating away the pounds I am not gaining from eating fast food. In six months I might weigh less than 100 pounds, if I don’t evaporate completely by then.
I suppose that is a small price to pay for eating healthy and finally kicking my nasty fast-food habit. I assure you, the moment I get my window fixed I will be back at it again with the Big Macs, BLTs and barbecue sandwiches.
And at this rate I am more than fine with the fact that my power window makes a better door than a window.
No really, it does make a better door than a window.