Glove Box Story -- It's A Conspiracy
Posted: Monday, September 05, 2011
by Octavia Hansen
Octavia Hansen
Automobile manufacturers specifically engineer the simplest sections in the most irritating manner, just to mess with my mind. My example is:
I went into my van glove box, to retrieve a piece of paper that was a reminder for something I had to do, or say, or something, that why is was a reminder. This was a five minute job distraction from what I really needed to do. I know this because it was written on the reminder, before I stashed it in this bank vault of a glove box.
My fingers are delicate, I could not find a grip. Ah, needle-nose pliers -- the quack doctor's operating instrument of choice on non-organic forms. There is a light inside the glove box, works on the same principle as a refrigerator, but the door isn't down far enough to see anything, and same door isn't open enough to allow outside light to illuminate the non-disclosure problem. Difficult angle but managed to grab something. Pull! Nope, only one arm of a cheap pair of glasses let go with a snap. No biggy, dollar store spectacles are easy to replace and it's one less item in the way to my own open door policy.
Hope springs eternal, it's now ten minutes, and I'm packing a powerful flashlight in a vain attempt at visuals. Nope, the Treasure of Sierra Madre will not give it up so easily. Pliers again . . . and . . . I found the other arm of the glasses. It defies logic how the arms, at different ends of the glasses, can be pulled out in such a way. But that's just me. And the door . . . is still teasing with a sliver of an opening.
NASA would be interested in this pair of glasses, or more accurately it just lenses now, that holds this door in a semi-closed position. Houston, we have a problem, well, an inconvenience and it's getting stupid. No, it is stupid and the clock is ticking. Not that I'm on the clock, I just wanted to do the something on my reminder, rather than fight with the glove box.
Enter a flathead screwdriver. I love these, long, metal, able to pry things apart, even if whatever is pried will never look the same or operate the same way ever again. Still, if it's not working now, what's the problem? The screw driver is long enough that I manage to pop off the tops of plastic bolts hinging the door.
Got the door off. It's now the fifteen minute mark. Previously unseen, there is a lip on the back of the door, near the top. For all those anxiously asking 'what was holding it?' -- the glasses managed to wedge one side under that lip and the other into the hinge groove at the bottom. I just know if I were sliding down a mountain and my very existence depended on catching anything to improve my odds of survival, these glasses would not even catch sunlight. But somehow in the small dark space under the dashboard, by throwing them at just the right angle and slamming the door just the right way, Fort Knox would have been proud, and just as baffled about opening this door again.
Got the glasses out. Found the original piece of paper where my personal ten commandments (well, 'to do' list) don't seem so important, but going through all that and NOT doing something is a criminal waste of time otherwise. The glove box door is on the van floor, may it rest until tomorrow.
As I turn out the garage light, I'm standing in the door of the house, and there is an eerie glow inside the van. It's been my habit to look back at any vehicle before walking away -- ever since the time I left the headlights on, making me search for another vehicle friendly enough for a jump. The glow is that little light in the glove box. It works like the fridge - close door, no light. No door, light stays on. And nothing will keep that button down. Tape? Nothing is strong enough. Maybe if I wedge a stick wedged against the light and the seat . . . this is stupid! I have my list and now, it's about 20 minutes.
The door HAS to go back. Only then will my automotive adventure will be finished. Did I mention there's a hole in the area where the bottom of the door hinges? I thought I had a good grip on what I thought would hold the door for tonight -- but no! Sure enough, it takes a fall. Just like Alice in Wonderland, it is gone . . . and when I look under the dashboard, thinking it will just fall to the bottom . . . guess again! It is sealed with all sorts of plastic venting, 6 brads that will never come out, carpet, and it's all against the fire wall -- no way to get in from under the hood.
I find another something I think will fit . . . nope, that one
joins the first. Now I the remains of the original headless bolts, a light on and I'm tired. Okay, this is stupid. I have things to do.
In my trusty can of nails and bolts, I find two plastic bolts from a previously installed toilet seat that are perfect. Oh, don't look like that! These were never used, still in the original unopened plastic bag so they are not just germ free, they are as yet untouched by human hands. Longer than the others but that's the needed grip space and they fit better than the factory originals. Anything shorter would have fallen out. And they did. Success!
The bolts are IN, the door is CLOSED, I have my PAPER, I can turn off the light and sleep knowing the battery isn't slowly running down in the night. I have since contemplated glueing shut the glove box door and
NEVER putting myself through anything like that again.
A reminder took almost 45 minutes, along with most of my patience and
a story of breakage, loss and why-the-hell do cars have to be so stinking
incredibly difficult to fix what should have been easy?
And, kids, our lessons for today:
Don't put anything smaller than your head in the glove box.
Keep your glasses on your head or in a purse or pocket if you don't want the arms ripped off.
Every hole in a vehicle is just large enough for an important item to fall into it, two if you try hard.
There will always be an annoying light somewhere on a vehicle that doesn't really illuminate anything but will run down the battery given enough time.
When a piece of paper is really important, keep it with you at all costs.
When a job looks like it will take five minutes, budget ten minutes for each original minute estimated.
If you choose to relate a stupid tale like this to your friends, try to blame the vehicle, the manufacturer and/or the dark of night and you just might come away with a shred of dignity.
What a day. What a van. What a glove box. Who designed this?
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