Nothing. No light, no click, no hum from the unit on the ceiling.
Halfway up, the door lurches. Something in the drive skips a beat, the chain jumps, and the door finishes its travel with a jolt.
The belt looks fine from a distance, but up close the rubber has cracked across the back in dozens of places and, in one spot, you can see the steel cords showing through.
You want the ceiling back. A storage loft, a vehicle lift or kayak racks would fit if the long rail and motor box were not hanging in the middle of the garage, and the low ceiling of an older house leaves little room for the standard rail anyway.
On bright mornings the door will not close, then by lunchtime it behaves itself. The garage faces the low sun, and the light reaches straight across the floor to one of the little black sensors.
Someone in the family tried to add a remote, held the button on the ceiling unit a little too long, and now every remote in the house is dead at once. The wall control still moves the door.
The house came with a controller already screwed to the garage ceiling and a sensor on the door, but the app insists the device belongs to another account. The seller has moved provinces, the emails go unanswered, and every evening the door still reports to a stranger's phone.
It is the coldest morning of the year. A week of slush and road salt has crusted over the outside release lock, the key will not seat, and the opener inside is silent after the overnight outage.