The motor runs, the chain rattles along the rail, and the door does not move a millimetre. You notice the little carriage sliding back and forth on its own.
The chain in the detached garage went orange with rust over the winter, the links are stiff, and the opener strains and groans to pull the door up. By afternoon, once the garage warms, it behaves almost normally.
The door used to glide up with a soft hum. Now there is a sharp clack every second or so, and if you stand underneath you can see the belt sagging below the rail and slapping it on the way up.
You swapped the old wooden door for a heavier insulated steel one, and the twenty-year-old opener that was kept has never settled. It strains on the way up, stops partway on cold mornings, and the rail shudders with every cycle.
The small light on one of the sensors near the floor has gone dark, or it flickers when someone walks past the track. The other one glows steadily.
Your remote was in the visor when the car was broken into last night. So was the insurance slip with your address on it.
It is February. You come down in the morning and the garage door has stood open all night; the car is frosted inside, the furnace has run without a pause, and the pipe in the shared wall is your first worry.
Halfway up, the door lets go of the opener with a clunk and sinks back to the floor while the trolley carries on to the top alone. It has happened three times this month, and each time the release lever is found half-cocked.