Category: life

The “H” is missing from the front of my Honda. This isn’t a new development — it has been missing for quite a while, and every now and then I’ll notice its absence. Those two empty little holes at the front edge of the hood remind me that my car had something taken from it.

Where did it go? I always assumed it was just the whim of some teenage punk. Was it for his collection? Do kids show off shoeboxes full of their latest prizes — Honda, Acura, Toyota, … maybe even Oldsmobile? “Hey, dude,” he probably brags to his friends, “check out the KIA logo I ripped off a van last night!”

I really would like to replace it. Maybe there’s a black market in these things, and kids are recruited to harvest them from parked cars in the dead of night. And on certain streets, near certain alleys, there are shadowy characters like that trenchcoat-wearing character on Sesame Street who skulk in shadows, saying “Psst. Wanna buy an H?”

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You might be surprised to know that there is more than one way to turn on a light. Allow me to explain.

The common light switch, a “rocker” switch, which is usually inset into the wall, has only two positions: on and off. At first blush (which one may in fact do when a switch is turned on at an inopportune moment), the switch is simple to understand, but several nuances exist that complicate the situation.

In North America, the standard installation of a light switch has the light turning on when the switch is flipped up. Most people take this arrangement for granted, but in many other countries, the standard is to flip the switch down to turn on the light. I personally have been stymied by the reversed arrangement; once when I walked into a darkened room, I found that the switch was already flipped up and concluded that I was blind. Since that incident, I have been corrected on that hasty conclusion, and I have also begun to take notice of light switches more than is usual for an average switch-user. Now that I am aware that other countries have different standards of light-switch installation, I rarely make the same mistake.

In an older house in Vancouver, however, I encountered a switch that consisted to two push buttons: one for on, one for off (to use the vernacular). Having been thwarted before, I decided to call in an expert—an electrician by the name of Armand, whom I befriended during my missionary work in the Sudan. Armand was of the opinion that the top button would initiate a closed circuit mode select, which I heartily supported with a round of vodka martinis (no olive or twist—a Dickens of a drink). However, considering the elderly nature of the device, the two of us decided it would be best if we researched the matter first before taking any action.

After we had drained our sixth martini, for which Armand had a special family recipe involving a brand of Vietnamese vodka that smelled suspiciously of rubbing alcohol, I decided to bite the bullet and simply push a button, and any damn button would do. Staring down the switch as would a bullfighter trying to intimidate an angry bull, I advanced. I pushed a button. A light came on.

To celebrate our success, Armand fabricated another martini, and I passed out on the floor. When I awoke, I pondered the dilemma of the push-button switch as I applied a cold compress to my aching head, and I realised that I could not remember which button I had pushed. Armand was of little help either, as he had been rendered blind by the foreign vodka. To this day, the dilemma of the dual-button light switch frustrates me. All I am able to do is spread the word that there is more than one way to turn on a light.

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