It was certainly a blonder moment.
A cheap laugh, were I writing for a lesser sitcom. Ditsy mom picks up dad from work. The kid is regaling them from her perch on the backseat with silly stories. As mom swings into the driveway of their suburban ranch house, the garage door automatically opens.
The garage was built for two cars. There's ample room for a ten year old compact car and the family's collection of bicycles. Side by side, that is.
Dad's pride and joy, a limited production light weight single speed he lovingly oils and tweaks regularly, is actually okay. The bike rack, ripped from the roof of the family sedan and hurled onto the driveway, did not fare so well.
Yeah. I actually did that. He did not lose his cool but silently picked up the pieces and shook his head.
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