Process of Elimination

Lorna drives a 94 Subaru Legacy. It’s the vehicle she uses on the mail route.

Shortly after she got it, she had trouble with the front passenger window. We took it to this fella that does just Subarus who sprayed the contacts of the switch and it worked right away.

Earlier last week, three of the windows stopped working. All but the driver’s window was stuck. She took it to this other place (the Subaru guy was out of town) and they took the door apart, fiddled with the switches, nothing. They finally manually lowered the passenger window so Lorna could at least deliver the mail.

Yesterday Lorna took the car to the Subaru guy to have him look at it. He fixed the problem within two seconds. See, there’s this little button on the driver’s door that locks out the other windows. Kind of like a child safely lock. Lorna had hit this button and didn’t realize it.

So she comes home and I ask if he figured out what was wrong with the windows.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ouch. That expensive a fix?”
She stares at me. “I don’t want to tell you.”
I know then that it must be interesting. She finally tells me and I laugh my butt off. Normally, I check out the problem too. But I wasn’t able to this time. I’m one of those folks that if the computer won’t work, I check to make sure it is plugged in. You know, start at the beginning and the simplest. Our truck has one of those switches too, although it is better marked than the much older wagon’s.

Still, we had a good laugh and she is feeling less like an idiot today. She didn’t tell her co-workers yet (who, by the way, the majority of them also drive Subarus) which I think is funny.

Laughter is good for the soul.