I was hanging out with a friend at the local skatepark. Most of the skaters were really nice about looking out for me whenever I was around. My brother always made sure that the people around me were aware of my fragile condition and what would happen if it was ignored. However, it was just me and our friend, otherwise I would not have been allowed to attempt the insane idea that popped into my head as I watched my friend fly up and down the ramps.
Despite breaking my bones almost every summer of my childhood, I was never fearful. If I felt the urge to try something daring, it didn't matter what the outcome might be, there was nothing short of parental or brotherly intervention that could stop me. As my friend rode off on his skateboard, I wheeled myself to one of the smaller ramps in the park. It was a low hill, but I had to get a good long start to even get halfway over it.
"Hey, you want some helping getting over that?" One of the skaters asked.
"No thanks, I'm just goofing off," I said, feeling a little shy about my failed efforts.
I moved to a quieter section of the park. There was a quarter pipe that wasn't being used, so I contented myself with rolling back and forth on it. The quarter pipe was wide and allowed me more room to roll without having to strive for a perfect path each time. I began to imagine myself pulling off a new technique. Maybe the new move would be so cool that I could turn it into an extreme sport. I'd call it - Extreme Wheelchair Ramping! Until now, every time I rolled up the quarter pipe, I rolled down backwards and spun my chair at the bottom as a way of stopping its projection.
The new move was challenging. It took three attempts to push the wheelchair forward fast and hard enough to get a good way up the ramp, but instead of letting it roll backward, I grabbed the right wheel in an effort to turn the chair while it was on the ramp. The result was not as I'd hoped. Instead of turning, the chair tipped sideways. Knowing I was about to fall, I tossed myself from the chair and slid the rest of the way down the ramp. My chair followed and hit me in the back.
I sat at the bottom of the ramp in complete shock, with the chair resting against my back. My friend rushed over to me.
"Dude, are you okay? What the hell were you thinking? Your brother is gonna kill me," he scolded.
As the shock began fade, the pain from the number of cuts and bruises began to register, but what surprised me the most . . .
"Holy crap, I didn't break any bones!" I shouted.
A few people had gathered to see if I was okay. They clapped. I laughed as my friend helped me back into my chair. I was amazed -- even when my wheelchair hit me in the back, I was afraid that would have done some real harm, but the worst of my pain was caused sliding down the ramp. It was sore to sit down for a few days. I never attempted the stunt again. I took it as a lesson in making better judgment calls when it came to my own fragility. However, I'll never forget that for one glorious moment I felt unbreakable.
I still thought about inventing Extreme Wheelchair Ramping for people who were in a wheelchair, but were not fragile. Then one day, I discovered this:
No comments:
Post a Comment