After looking at several hundred doors, which were either too short, too long, too narrow, too wide or generally too weird, in tears, we gave up. We had searched everywhere and there was only one other mythical place up in Sheffield Massachusetts that was rumored to exist and also rumored to have an endless supply of the doors we were looking for. It seemed though, like a bridge too far, so we turned our sights to ordering our front door from the web. Well it turns out that our door size was custom. We all know what that means. When we saw the prices, we decided to make the trip to the Brigadoon of Salvage yards up in Sheffield.
As daylight faded, the snow started and the temperature dropped we headed North from Kent. With Kim talking on the cell phone and our little Prius slip sliding on the road, I began to have second thoughts about this adventure. We finally arrived and instead of finding what I feared would be a small house with random offerings on the front lawn and a few doors leaning against a tree, I found, well, a small house with random offerings on the front lawn and a few doors leaning against the tree. Worse yet, Kim was still on the phone and signaled for me to make contact and start the search for our door.
Coatless in the now frigid evening with the snow above my loafers I set off to find the proprietor. When I found him, he greeted me warmly and even knew who I was, as Kim had called several times and left messages asking if he had any doors we could use for our home; Old, solid, wide and tall and of course with a bit of history. It seems this was a common request, and of course, he did have one door that might work. He led me to a tree in his front yard, and with my feet numbing and my body shaking, showed me a short, very wide door that had probably been leaning against that tree since the first war with England. I was relieved. No way this fit Kim's bill; it wasn't the right height, was too flimsy, AND the top was rounded since the 2 halfs once formed a monastery front door. Kim would take a quick look and we'd be back in our heated car in no time at all.
But of course, we all know how this would end. Kim, in her warm coat and boots comes bounding over and falls in love with the old door, as well as the 'fascinating historian/storyteller' old man, whom I'm sure she has invited for dinner. I saw 'customization' and Kim saw a piece of history. I'm saying 'Let's think about it', 'It won't fit in the car' (and thinking 'no way'), while Kim is saying 'Cool! I bet it will fit in the Prius Contractor's Special - Let's try!'.
SO, after a few hours of touring unheated out buildings looking for other artifacts and a complete loss of feeling in my lower body from the cold I plunked down cash for the door, we jammed it into the back of the Prius and without so much as a receipt, off we went. The only other minor detail was that the door extended out the back, and the entire way back it snowed as much in the car as it did on the outside, as Kim chattered about going back there for more treasures when time allowed.
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