I was on wooden floor, I gave myself a hard push and sat back. I rolled, glided along before gently coming to a stop. Praise be.
The day I left on this trip, first New Jersey then Connecticut, I had an appointment for my wheelchair to have a spring cleaning. My chair gets used a lot, it travels a lot, it carries a lot. Over time I can feel the wheels gumming up, crud gathering around the ball bearings, fatigue sinking into it's frame. A couple times a year I get the wheelchair people to come and check it over and spruce it up.
They arrived way late for the appointment, two very tall boys came to take the chair to fix up. They looked like brothers, but weren't, they were beanpoles who looked about three days older than sperm. As the main guy folded up the chair to take it out, I felt this real twinge. I was trusting this kid with my mobility. I was going on a trip in minutes, I started to change my mind just as he looked up at me and said, 'I know.'
I let the chair go. Joe arrived a few minutes later and told me he'd seen the two guys with the chair. They'd just taken it out by the elevator where there was room to work. One of the wheels was off and ... I asked him to stop. I didn't need to know.
I worried over the chair like it was flesh and blood. A few minutes later the chair was back and the main guy was explaining what they did and what they found. The back wheels were fine, the front ones were the one's that needed cleaning. They fixed it so it folded more easily. He spoke with precision, care and even respect for the work he'd done with the chair.
Before they left I asked them how they got into wheelchair repair. The main guy said that he'd kind of fallen into it (there was a joke there but I didn't make it) and that he loved it because he got to ... he stopped and blushed wildly switched his words and said ... 'you know'.
Yeah I do.
So now I glide because some young kid likes to 'you know'.