I can see how it would be so easy for a world to shrink. I can see how life could become small. The idea of long, long, stretches on highway, the thought of small hotels in small towns, the very real idea of winter February, all were reasons to turn down the work, to make the decision to say 'no' to the travel. Joe and I had to both dig down deep in order to say 'yes' to the adventure. To say 'yes' to taking on the challenges. To say 'yes' to the possibility that it would all be OK.
We've each had our own bad experiences regarding travel and wheelchairs and inaccessibility. Joe has been just as angered and frustrated with the unpleasant surprises that have come our way. He worried about almost the exact same things that I do. So a decision to go is one we both make. And luckily when one wavers the other stands firm. We both believe in what we do and we both want to make a difference. And, of course, we both have become used to life on the road.
So we decided, obviously, to point the car north.
And now, we point the car south.
With fewer worries. We know the road. We know the hotels, We know the spots to stop. We only worry about the weather. We don't worry about whether or not we'll make it. The car will be packed, my wheelchair tucked in on the back seat behind Joe, me sitting in the passenger seat. The work will be done so we'll just be two guys going home.
It's nice to have my wheelchair stay where it belongs, in the back seat, and us - up front still making the decisions. It gets me around, true. But we still haven't given it a vote. That's what works for us. And that's the way we're going to keep it for as long as we can.