A Daring Turn Of The Wheels

  On a rainy afternoon, I was waiting on my dad to pick me up from school. My friend waited with me and we sat under the breezeway. Soon the rain let up, but the walkway and carport were covered in about an inch of water. I entertained myself by driving my electric wheelchair back and forth across it and watching the water splash up from under my tires. An idea occurred to me.

"I bet I could peel out like those cars, turn sharp and splash water really high into the air!" I thrilled. 

"You should do it," my friend encouraged, grinning. 

  I went back about halfway down the walk. I wanted to be careful, because I wasn't sure what to expect, so I only turned up the speed to medium, and took off. Needless to say it wasn't the thrill I thought it would be. My wheels barely expelled any water and the turn was precise and unhindered. I did not slide or glide like I imagined would happen. 

"Maybe you should try further back," my friend suggested. 

"Yeah, and this time I'll put it on full speed."

"It goes faster?" she asked.

"Yeah," I smirked, "but I never drive it on full speed so I don't run the battery down."

"I can't wait to see how fast it goes," my friend said enthusiastically. 

  This was my chance to impress. With my power turned on high and a good distance to go, I shoved the control stick and flew forward. I could hear the water splash up beneath my tires. I did not look down, but stayed focused on the turn ahead. As soon as I came to it, I yanked the lever to the left. 

  Apparently, I misjudged how far into the turn I was and instead of a side-splashing display of awesome, I made a wide arc and flew off of the sidewalk, into the grass. My wheelchair shut off. My friend came running. 

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked. 

"Yeah," I said, shakily. "Thankfully, I didn't flip over or get thrown!" I exclaimed, realizing that I was still upright and in my wheelchair.

"No kidding," my friend agreed. "Can you get back on the sidewalk?" she asked.

  I flipped the switch; the wheelchair didn't turn on.

  Crap. 

"Oh man, my dad is going to kill me," I freaked.

"What do you think happened?" she asked. 

  I got out of my wheelchair and knelt in the mud to investigate. After a few moments of searching I discovered the battery was knocked loose. My friend helped me snap it back into place. I flipped the switch. The wheelchair came back on.

"It's alive!" I shouted, laughing. 

  I drove the wheelchair over to the sidewalk. Thankfully it was not a steep drop and my friend was able to help get it back onto the curb, just in time for my dad to arrive. As he was putting my wheelchair in the car, he noticed the mud on my tires. 

"You need to watch where you drive, you're getting mud in the car," he scolded. "Don't you see those mud holes?"

"Sorry Dad. I must have been going too fast."

"Well slow down," he said.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." I said, smiling to myself. 

Happy Wheels

  The summer before Kindergarden started I broke my legs and was forced to spend the last part of vacation in a spica cast. Fortunately, I'd just received my new wheelchair, so rather than laying around immobile, I was able to roll around the house. It was a little difficult pushing myself in the chair, because the spica cast went from my waist to my toes and did not allow me to sit per se, but because I was so small, my parents figured out a way to angle me in the chair with pillows so I could "sit."

"I push you around okay?" my little brother said.

"Okay, go fast." I squealed.

"No, don't go fast." my mom chided from the laundry room. "And don't wake your sister."

  Too late.

  My little brother raced my wheelchair and I around the kitchen and into the living room where he crashed me into a corner of the couch. Luckily, I did not fall out, but my near painful accident did not deter us from rushing down the hall, screaming at the top of our lungs. Our baby sister's cries joined us.

"I told you two not to wake your sister," our mom snapped at us as she left half folded clothes to attend her.

  She brought my sister out into the living room and let her crawl around.

"Watch her while I finish the laundry and then we will go to McDonald's for lunch," our mom offered.

  My brother and I relished the thought of collecting another Happy Meal toy so we succeeded in keeping a vigilant eye on our baby sister. Soon we were on our way!

  The great thing about going to McDonald's in the late eighties, early nineties was - apart from the Happy Meal toy - kids had the joy of jumping around in pits of brightly colored plastic balls. My brother and I would spend all day throwing the balls at each other or burying ourselves beneath them if our parents allowed it.

  On this trip however, I was unable to jump into the ball pit, but was confined to my wheelchair instead. My little brother sat at the table with me for as long as his four year old attention span would allow him, but then...

"I wanna go play," he whined.

  Mom looked at me. This was the part she hoped to avoid. "Bubba (our nick name for him) can play for just a little bit, okay?"

  Tears welled up in my eyes.

"I wanna play too."

"Please don't be sad, I'll be right back," my brother insisted.

"Fine," I sulked.

  My little brother got up excitedly and raced to the pit. I sat in my wheelchair with my Happy Meal toy, tears running down my cheeks.

"It's not fair," I sniffed.

"I'm sorry, ladybug," my mom said, attempting to comfort me.

  My little sister sat in her highchair watching our brother with me. She pointed at one of the color balls that rolled out of the pit and close to our table.

"Ba," she demanded. Mom walked over, retrieved the ball and handed it to her. My little sister happily beat it against the table, threw it down and demanded it be given to her again.

"Do you want one?" Mom asked me, when she went to snatch another for sissy.

"Yes," I said.

"Bring your sister a few balls to play with," she shouted to my brother.

  He stuffed his shirt full of plastic colored balls and brought them to me. Then he turned my wheelchair to face the pit. Next to the entrance was a height chart. A tall tin picture of a character stood beside it with his hand stretched out.

"Try to hit his hand," my brother challenged.

  I threw the ball and missed entirely.

"You have to throw like this," my brother attempted to show me how to toss the ball, but it took him a couple of tries before he succeeded.

  I threw ball after ball and managed to hit the sign a few times. Whenever I ran out of balls my brother ran back in the pit to retrieve more. Soon there were so many balls outside of the pit the manager took notice and came outside to chide us. Mom explained the situation, but agreed to clean up the balls we'd taken from the pit. After that we only took out a few and used those to play our game.

"Did you have a good day?" mom asked as we drove out of the fast food parking lot.

"Yeah," I beamed. "Now whenever I break a bone, I know I can still have fun!"

  I realized then, even if I am confined to my wheelchair I can ALWAYS find a way to enjoy my life!