Bike Riding While Disabled
October 01, 2016
So there I was. On my trike in the park, feet strapped in, phoneless and without any device to communicate, accompanied by a goofy, big brown dog who followed, but didn't know how to listen to me. I had lost sight of my bumbling father for about half an hour. I suddenly became twenty-years younger and I felt my soul groan under the weight of my youthful spastic and crippled exterior, and my inability to speak. It's very strange, donning my multicoloured helmet, securing both my feet onto the pedals and then letting my right arm flail as I steer with my left. It's not that strange, but I feel simultaneously like I have more and less agency than I would normally. I wonder what I look like and what people assume about me, but I don't really give a fuck generally, because hey, I AM BUSY RIDING MY BIKE!! But displacing my father caused me to think more about it, (and being 26 and on an outing with a parent...) I eventually got someone to lend me their phone to type on, and then they called him for me, and we were reunited.