Disability Arts Online

My new skinny-wheeled powerchair doesn't seem to be fussed about getting its controls wet; I'm starting to believe that they might actually be weatherproof. Chunky-chair would splutter and stop if I neglected to wrap the joystick and control panel in plastic protection.

Chunky's wheels however would take rain in their stride, and were never phased by leaves on the road. Not so with the skinny-wheels. That slightly oily surface that glosses city streets on rainy days is a factor to be reckoned with and decomposing leaves a decided hazard.

 

But skinny-wheels' ace is never leaving me stranded. Masses of battery capacity plus the ability to convert to manual gives me a safety-net; security I have not had in almost 15 years.

Play or pass? Who am I today? Slim or chunky? Pumpkin at midnight, or 24/7 party animal? Am I in a rush, or can I take time for a relaxed stroll? Do I want city slick, or the off-road experience?

Working different wheels is far more significant than wearing different shoes; I'm getting choices that would have eluded me mere weeks ago.

If dependence on wheels shapes my personality, am I about to discover whole new sides to the Chairborne Identity?

 

 

Yesterday I forgot

to recharge my battery.

That should mean I'm grounded,

waiting and kicking myself.

Today though I'm out

free; I have a spare

to fall back on. Planning

tomorrow has never been

this easy. The prospect

of spontaneity

rears on it's hind legs

to tantalise and

enchant me.