I think of Monsieur Browder on mornings when I crank my car before I raise the automatic garage door, which is no longer automatic.
I crank my car and then hurry to manually raise the garage door in what appears to be a Herculean action but really isn’t that difficult.
I’m hurrying because I don’t want the fumes of my cranked car to kill me before I get the door open.
“That’s how Monsieur Browder die…
