How did I get here and where are my shoes?

In 1999 I didn’t go to the Indy 500. I drove several friends to East Lansing Michigan for a Frisbee tournament. I did find a pizza place to watch the race on TV. In 2000 I did pick up Mike on the way to Indianapolis. Again, no planning before arriving in Indianapolis. I know I wasn’t going to park in the Indy 500 Motel parking lot, but I wasn’t worried, something will happen, and it did! Right across the street there was a sign saying ”parking $10.” I did a quick u-turn at the light and I’m parked for the night. This time we don’t have to wonder if the van is going to be there when we return to it 5 hours later. The man running to show did say three times we had to be out of there by 5am. That’s not a problem, the line to the infield starts at 5am sharp! 

Another night of meeting people, buying airbrushed t-shirts and having fun until 5am. The only thing different was Mike offering to drive at 5am in to the infield. I did the previous time, so it was his turn. Well, another change was a couple of guys in a van that were parked next to mine talked Mike into following them to another entrance that lead to the snake pit. It sounded fun to me, so I didn’t care. I took the opportunity to lay down on the bed and get off my rear. Since I’m sitting in a wheelchair all day, I can get pressure sores on my rear if I sit too long. For me, 8 hours lying in bed on my stomach or side and off my rear is ideal. I don’t have to be sleeping, which I’m usually not. I sleep only about 6 hours a night. I can get away with 6 hours of getting off my rear for a night, maybe two in a row, but I’m starting to push it. Anything less then 6 hours and I have to pay close attention for the next several days. Going to Indy, I have to pay close attention for several days. 

After 10 minutes of riding in the back of the van on the bed, I finally put my head up. There were fields of grass everywhere. (Oh crap) Mike, where are we? I don’t know! Mike lost the van he was following. It happens! After an hour or maybe two of driving around in circles, Mike found a gate into the race track. But by that time the infield was full! Oh well, it happens. I’ve been lost many times myself, or what  I like to say, ”on the scenic route.” 

We ended up parking in a big grass over flow parking lot outside of the race track. It was about 10am and Mike had been looking at a grill that was still hot with coals next to where we were parked. He grabs our food from the cooler, used someone’s grill and cooked himself breakfast. While he did that I got out of bed and had my breakfast a can of Mountain Dew. I have one every morning instead of coffee.

The previous time we went to Indy, we really couldn’t see the race, so this year I brought a 13” 12 volt TV. We were hoping to watch the race on it. Nope! The race was blacked out. The race is a sell out every year, but the money hungry people still black out the race? Why? Mike did find a NASCAR race to watch. I think it was the Coca-Cola 600. Within 20 minutes, Mike is snoring. I got an hour or so of sleep, but more important, 5 hours off my rear. I’m good to go? I had one problem though, well two? three? Mike was sleeping right in the doorway where the wheelchair lift goes into the van. My shoes were on the other side of him. My toothbrush and comb were on the other side him. And my shirt was on the other side of him. Even my bed, if I wanted to lay back down was on the other side of Mike. And Mike’s going to be sleeping for four hours, minimum.

Crap! What to do? I do have a old ripped t-shirt on that I was wearing under my shirt last night on for just a layer. When you’re from the UP, you learn to dress in layers. Awww, the heck with it. I’m going into the race track infield. I can buy a new shirt while in there. As for the shoes, oh well!

We must have parked in the way back 40. It took me an hour to get to the main part of the infield where they sold the t-shirts, hats, food, etc. Some where on my journey someone gave me a can of beer, which came in handy because I was refilling it with water at every water fountain I found. The temperature at the race that day was in the 90’s. It was sunny and hot and I was starting to over heat.

When its hot out, your body changes to keep you cool. Your blood vessels near your skin become bigger, so more of your blood is close to your skin, the surface. Also you start to sweat. The sweat evaporating draws heat away from your body which cools you down. When you become cold, the opposite happens. The blood vessels near your skin (surface) and especially your hands and feet contract. If you ever played hockey at the outside park rink knows about cold feet. Your body’s goal is to protect your organs. You can live without a hand or foot. My body, being paralyzed, doesn’t work like that. My blood vessels don’t change when I’m hot or cold, and I don’t sweat when I’m hot. So I can become hypothermic real easy and I can over heat and have heat stroke in a matter of minutes on a hot sunny day.

The 74th running of the Indianapolis 500 on Memorial weekend 1990 was a hot sunny weekend. It was probably in the 90’s. I had been drinking water, but my can was out of water and I was over heating. I went from shade to shade looking for a water fountain, but with no luck. My core body temperature was over 100 degrees and rising fast. The worst part of over heating for me is as the hotter I become, the weaker and dumber I become. Cooling off becomes my only concern.

I was wheeling along the main grandstands along the main straight of the race track looking for shade and water.  I looked down one of the tunnels and spotted a drinking fountain. A cool dark tunnel with water! I’m not going to die! I go to the opening and ask the security guard if I could please get some water that I was in danger of heat stroke. He said not without a ticket. I asked if he knew of another water fountain, but he said he didn’t know. There was no shade anywhere nearby and I was in trouble. When your body temperature gets over 104 degrees, you start to cook from the inside. I didn’t have the energy to look for another water fountain.

Finally, I looked at the security guard and told him I was going to that water fountain and I just started wheeling. When I reached the water, I filled my beer can and poured  water over my head and arms. I spent the next 20 minutes plus drinking the water and  pouring it on me. It was at least 20 minutes before the feeling of passing out started to go away. I poured so much water on me there was a 6 foot circle of water on the cement under my wheelchair. I probably looked like a wet rat to the people walking by. My hair was wet, my torn t-shirt and blue jeans were soaked, and I wasn’t wearing any shoes.

I sat at the water fountain another 20 minutes just trying to regain my strength. I was exhausted. If I could have, I would have laid down and took a nap. I hate over heating. I looked over toward the security guard. He quit looking my way a long time ago. Then I realized after all the water I had drank that I had to go to the bathroom. I looked at the security guard and thought that if he would have been nice, I’d go look for a bathroom in another place outside of this seating section. But since he didn’t, I started wheeling towards the seating area  instead of toward him to leave.

After a personal pitstop, I wheeled out into the seating area to find out I was on the main straight away of the race track. I had no idea I was going to be there. My brain had been it survival mode since I arrived by the grandstands. To the right were the seats and to the left of me was pit lane. On the other side of pit lane were the race cares flying by at 200 plus miles an hour. If you’ve never been to an Indy car or NASCAR race, bring ear protection. Those cars are loud. I wheeled down the isle way starting to enjoy myself again. I stilled looked like a soaking wet rat without shoes, but I didn’t care. Soon I ended up at the winner’s circle where they are going to place the winning car and drink the milk. Its a tradition for the winner of the race to drink milk out of an old fashion glass milk bottle. I don’t know when it started, but its been a tradition as long as I can remember.

There was no one at all in the winner’s circle, just me! So, I went to the middle and popped a wheelie. I sat there for 10-15 minutes doing a wheelie. I am doing a wheelie where the winning car of the Indianapolis 500’s will soon be. How cool is that?  I looked up into the crowd. There where at least 20 beautiful models up there waiting for the race to end so they could go to work having their pictures taken with the winner, the car and everyone wanting one. A couple smiled at me and waved when I looked up. One blow me a kiss. My guess is she knew someone that is in a wheelchair and was happy for me that I was out having fun or that I’m handsome when I have the soaked wet rat look going?

I heard over the loud speaker the the race was almost over. Maybe only a few more laps. Soon my quiet little winner’s circle was becoming crowded. When the race ended, I felt like I was in a mosh pit. The winners circle went from just me, to 100 people in minutes. I tried working my way towards the gate. It actually felt scary. It was probably only 25 feet to the gate, but it might as well have been 25 miles. People were getting really pissed at me when they tripped on my wheelchair. After 10 minutes, probably longer, I finally made it to an open gate going onto the race track. As I’m wheeling though, the security guard (a different one) looked at me and didn’t say a word. Everyone there had a pass hanging around their neck but me. I wasn’t even wearing a decent shirt or shoes. My plan was to buy a t-shirt when I reached the vending stands, but the heat had already started getting to me. The security guard knew as well as I that it was better for everyone if I was away from the winner’s circle and the crowd.

The first thing I noticed was the Borg Warner trophy. Its like the Stanley Cup of racing. It has the face of every winner of the Indy 500 since the very first race (Ray Harroun). There are 3 drivers that are on the trophy four times for winning the race. (A.J. Foyt, Al Unser and Rick Mears) I wheeled up to the trophy. There wasn’t anyone near it. I did stay 3 feet away so in case of a muscle spasm I wouldn’t kick it over. I didn’t to make the news being that guy. After that I just started wheeling around taking it all in. I was on the race track of the Indy 500 minutes after completion of the biggest race in America.

Then I spotted Tom Monaghan the owner of Dominos Pizza a Michigan based company. The driver that just won the 74th running of the Indianapolis was Arie Luyendyk. It was his very first Indy car win of his carrier. The race car he won with was called the Dominos Pizza Hot One number 30. I yelled out ”Tom Monaghan!” As soon as I did, this guy the size of a sherman tank jump in between us. So I yelled, “Congratulation!” The next thing I knew he walked over and shook my hand. Then he walked over to his driver, Arie Luyendyk and shook his. I didn’t follow him. If i had shoes on I might have.

Some of the most fun I’ve had in life happens by accident. I could have never planned a day like that one. And it all started because I left my house!!!

Must be in the Front Row!!

My oldtimers and CRS (can’t remember shit) is getting bad. I was going to watch the Indianapolis 500 this morning. I haven’t seen the race in years. I’m usually out doing something this weekend (Memorial Day Weekend) in my motor home. But this weekend I’m home, so I thought it would be fun to see what’s changed in the sport since I’ve seen it last. I was doing morning chores when at 1 o’clock or so I finally remembered about the race. I’m not a daytime TV person. If my TV is on during the day and I’m home, I’m working and its tuned into one of the two financial channels (CNBC or Bloomberg). So I missed todays race.

When I lived in Marquette, I was into racing. In the summer I’d go to the Bark River and Crandon off road races to watch the brothers Jack and Gary race their 4 wheel drive Ford Broncos. Jack had the older style Bronco and Gary had had the newer style (Bronco II?). If I remember right, and I’m probably wrong, they had different driving styles. Gary liked the bigger motors and drove flat out until he won or broke trying. Jack on the other hand opted for a vehicle that handled and drove to finish the race, with a win or near the top. Gary retired while I still lived in Marquette and I’m sure Jack’s retired from driving, but I wouldn’t doubt if he still owns and has someone driving his race car. I know they both won a lot of races, and I’m pretty sure they both won championships. If you never been to the off road races at Bark River MI or Crandon WI, they are fun to watch. At least back in the day. Back then there were 50 people or twice that from Marquette going there. Back then (on TV) I’d also follow Nascar, Indycar, F1 and so on. Watching racing live is fun, so one day I decided I was going to watch the Indy 500 in Indianapolis. Knowing me, it was probably on the Wednesday before Memorial Day weekend. Memorial Day weekend is the weekend the Indy 500 race is held every year.

This was back in 1988, and the person I knew would go with me was my best friend Mike. I remember the day I met Mike. That memory feels like it was yesterday. I was 4 years old. It was winter and I was behind my house on 520 Lakewood lane in Harvey Michigan. A few of us (most were 6 to 12 years old or so) were building a snow wall so we could hide behind it and through snowballs at the snowmobilers as they drove up and down the power lines the divided the houses that were on Lakewood lane and M-28. I don’t think the snow wall ever made it to 3 feet tall and 4 feet long. I also don’t think more then one snowmobile ever drove by that day. But sometime during this fun, I remember looking across the power line to the houses on M-28. I seen this woman and a small boy standing on the edge of their property line. I couldn’t hear them (they were 100 feet or more away), but you could tell she was telling him to go over to us to hang out and play, and it was obvious the boy didn’t want to go. After a few minutes he finally started walking over in his black snowmobile suite. He had his  head down the entire way. When he was close to us I told him what we were doing and asked him if he wanted to join us? We’ve been best friends ever since.

The 72th running of the Indy 500 was being run on Sunday, so I drove down to Mike’s house on Friday. He was now living in Fond du Lac Wisconsin. After a fun night in Fond du Lac, we packed up Saturday and it was off  to  the races. I had never been there and the only research I did was to see how long of a drive it was from Fond du Lac to Indianapolis. That’s pretty much how I approach life. I don’t over think it. I just do it!

I think it was 16th street we pulled up to the Indianapolis 500 speedway on. The street was blocked off so there was only one lane of traffic going in each direction. The blocked off lanes were used by the pedestrians to walk up and  down on. That sight alone was worth the trip down. 100,000 people or more having fun! Now Mike and I are going to sleep in my van, but we’re going to need a place to park for the night. Showing up at 7-8 o’clock on Saturday night before the race without a plan probably wouldn’t work for most people, but for me its just another adventure.

I think its on turn one or turn two of the race track is the Indy 500 Motel. Without even thinking, I just turned into its parking lot. I knew I’d never get a room, but I figured I’d get off the street and start asking people where to park for the night. You have to start somewhere. I didn’t get 20 feet into the parking lot when the security guards stopped me and asked if I was a guest of the motel. No! Then you can’t park here, you must leave! OK let me turn around and I’ll leave. I went looking for a place to turn around, but found a parking spot instead, and parked. Mike goes, you can’t park here as I’m turning the van’s motor off. I looked at Mike and said, lets have a beer and see what happens.

20 minutes later and an empty beer, I look at Mike and say, lets go have fun! Mike’s not convinced it will be ok, so I tell him, see the front wheels of the van? They are turned as sharp as they can be. If they try towing the van, it will run into the car next to us. We’ll go buy a souvenir t-shirts and come back to see if they’re looking for us? 30 minutes later we drop off our shirts and stuff and no one cares we’re parked there.

If you’ve never been to the Indy 500, go there on Saturday night and hang out on 16th and Georgetown. Its just one big party of 100,000 people or twice that! People are towing coolers up and down the streets having fun. There are booths selling everything you’d want at the race, Specially food!

That night we learn since we don’t have tickets, so we’re told the best place to watch the race from the infield. To get into the infield, the line starts at 5am, sharp! Cool, the gate for the infield was right next to the motel parking lot. We’ll stay up all night, and be the 1st vehicle in line at 5am. No problem! It was close, we stayed up all night, but I was 2 minute early. The police officer told me to leave or I’d be arrested. Really? Two minutes? By the time I was turned around and back in line I was a quarter mile or more back. If you’re 10 minutes, the line of cars going into the infield is miles long. The line to get into the infield starts at 5am sharp!

The people at the Indy 500 are some of the nicest you’ll ever meet. In the infield we parked next to these two guys in a van. They had been going to the race for years, so they had it down pat. We were  instant good friends. Mike and I brought brats and buns from the grocery store. These guys, being the veterans of going to the Indy 500 had homemade meat on sticks, salads, bbq chicken, trail mix in bags, etc. etc. etc. They had enough food for 3 days, so they offered us their food, and we offered ours. it was fun from the start.

When the race started they said they watch it rom the top of the roof of their van on their lawn chairs. Before I know it they are telling me I should be up there too! Oh no! I’m OK I tried telling them. Tried! A few minute later I’m sitting in a lawn chair on the top of their van. They and Mike lifted me up there. Oh crap! I look down at my empty wheelchair and can’t help to think when I’m going to fall off. Why am I not down in it all safe and sound? I never felt comfortable the entire time up there. Every time someone climbed up or down, the van rocked. And please God, no muscle spasms!

If you want to see the Indy 500 live and actually see the race? Buy tickets! Even on the top of the van I couldn’t see the race. But that never bothers me. I’m out for the journey, for the fun. I don’t remember who even won the race. For me it was just getting out of the house, or in this case, out of town and having some fun!

Must be in the front row! That was my saying for the night after we got away with parking in the Indy 500 motel parking lot. One of the T-shirts I had airbrushed had that saying on it!

Should I go? The little voice in my head says NO!

It was a dark November evening in the early 1980’s. It had just started snowing an hour earlier. The ground is frozen, so this snow is going to stay until April. I was out getting some exercise. I left my home at 322 east Ridge street and soon arrived at the intersection of Spruce street and East Prospect. The town I’m in is Marquette Michigan. The town I grew up. I’m now looking down Spruce street hill leading to East Crescent street. I wanted to go down it! But its not a good idea. There’s about 5 inches of snow on the hill already. I’m trying to get the smart voice in my head to talk me out of it. I looking down the hill as the minutes tick away and another inch of snow falls.

I loved growing up in Marquette. I think of Marquette as a big little town. Although its the largest city in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the population was something like 19,000 when I left. I now live in San Jose California which has a population of a million or so.  I love living here, but I miss the type of people the grow up in smaller communities. They seem to be more trust worthy. But the big cities is fun as well. It has so much to offer. Tomorrow I’m going to some feastable. Not a clue what’s its about. My friend Steve asked if I wanted to go? Last year he asked me if I anted to go to a concert? I said sure! He then said it was in Palm Springs California. I responded by saying then we should take my motor home! It wasn’t until after we greed on everything that I asked who the band was!

Oh, my name is Jerry. I’ve decided to tell my story. I was going to write a book, but after a few years of trying to write the first chapter I decided here on the internet on a web page in the form of a blog would be a lot easier. Plus my background in writing is that of the business nature. I was taught in college to keep it as short as possible. Get you’re point across before the reader get board. I think this will be fun, but I will have to learn to write for fun and entertainment, so I’m reading more often. I never read as a child growing up. It wasn’t until I was in my early 30’s that I really read my first book just for pleasure. I have a lot of  short stories from my life to share.

Now since this is the world wide web and not everyone is going to know who I am or why I’m trying to talk myself out of going down a city street. I’m not going to walk down the hill. I want to go down the snow covered hill in my wheelchair. On May 13, 1979, I was involved in a serious automobile accident. I broke my 6th and 7th vertebrae in my neck. They’re bones and they healed, but I also damaged my spinal cord. That never did. Since May 13, 1979 I’ve been paralyzed from the chest down.

So why do I want to go down a steep snow covered hill in my wheelchair? Because I think I can make it!

Marquette was a wonderful place to live. But as in everything in life, there are some down sides. For me, it was the 6 month winters. It wasn’t so much the cold and snow, It was keeping the few working muscles I had in shape and burning calories to keep the weight off.  Most days of every summer I’d push my Everest and Jennings wheelchair a mile or two. Back then there weren’t many curb cuts and a lot of hills, so over time I developed my favorite routes around town. The street I wheeled the most for just pure exercise was Spruce street. It was the perfect street for exercise. I’d wheel from my house down to Spruce street. Then down Spruce street to Prospect. It was mostly down hill, but at a nice level down hill grade. At the intersection of Spruce street and Prospect street, both streets had steep down hill grades. Spruce street was steeper down hill grade. I rarely went down Spruce street. I much preferred Prospect street. And if I was pushing my wheelchair back up, I always took Prospect. I only wheeled up Spruce street once. It was actually scary to wheel up Spruce street. My Everest and Jennings wheelchair had hill climbers on it. Hill climbers were devices that only allowed the rear wheels of my wheelchair to roll forward and not backwards. So I could push up the hill, then take my hands off the wheels, grab them and push again without worrying about rolling backwards. Spruce street is so steep that I’d almost flip over backwards when the hill climbers locked on. Prospect street was my preferred street to use if I wanted to wheel down to the bike path that paralleled Lake Superior. It was also the street I preferred to climb if I want to wheel up a steep hill in that part of town. If I was tired or feeling week, I’d wheel the long way around up Crescent street to Pine street, then up pine to Prospect street and then back to Spruce street. That would be the route I’d take home if I went down the hill, and survived!

Again it was the first week of November and the snow that was falling was going to stay, until April. The earlier time it had snowed it had melted. Not this time. This was going to be my last exercise run of the year. My original plan was to wheel down Spruce street to Prospect and then back close to home on Ridge street. I was probably going to do this two or maybe three times. But that first snow fall of the year in Marquette is actually beautiful. When I came to the steep part of the street, I just looked down it and seen a Norman Rockwell painting. There weren’t any car tracks in the snow. It was just a peaceful quiet sight. Looking down that hill, I just knew I could make it to the bottom without wiping out.

There was about 5 inches of snow on the street when I arrived at Spruce and Prospect. Minutes later there was another. The snow was also starting to accumulate on me as well as I studied the hill. If I position my wheelchair on the center of the street, right on the center of the crown, i could make it. City streets are not flat. The center of the street is a few to several inches and maybe a foot higher then at the curbs. The crowning of the street forces the water to flow to the curbs and down the gutters into the underground sewer systems.

I positioned my wheelchair right on the center or top of the crown. I figure if I stayed on the center of  it, I could make it to the bottom of the hill in one piece. In the summertime when the streets are bare and not covered with snow, that’s what I would do. If I started to veer off the center of the crown, I’d simply push the brake on my wheelchair a little harder on the wheel I wanted to slow more to turn back to the center.  That works great when the streets don’t have any snow on them. Anyone who has ever driven on snow knows you don’t get very good traction on snow. When your tires lock up, your car skids straight. Your car also looses all steering when your tires lock up. I know before I even start going down the hill. I know that as soon I start down it I’ll have to lock my wheels. I know I’ll loose all steering. I know that once I start down the hill I’m going to be there just for the ride. I know that I’ll have to start perfectly on the center of the crown on the street. I can do it!

Why? Why do I have this stupid need to go down a hill in my wheelchair? No one will    ever know. At least not if  I make it down in one piece. No one is going to believe me anyway. I’m not the type of person who does things to brag to the rest of the world what I can do. Its more of a feeling of worth! Is that the term I want to use? Anyone can sit on the couch, watch TV and just get by in life. I don’t want to wake up an old man and look back at my life to have my greatest accomplishment getting to level 37  on some video game. I want to live life, to enjoy it, to grow old with stories to tell of the fun things I’ve done. That dark night in November in the early 80’s, the smart voice in my head lost out to the challenge of whether or not I could make it down a steep snow cover city street in Marquette Michigan.

So here I go!!! I let go of my wheels and put my hands on the brakes on my wheelchair. I bob my head forward a few times to start the rolling and off I go. Oh Crap! It didn’t go as I planned. I must of hit the right brake on a spit second just before the left, because I’m off the crown of the street. Both my wheels are locked and it looks like I’m going to hit the curb about a third of the way down the hill. I’m also going a lot faster then I thought I would. I’ve ran into the curb when going down a steep hill when its dry, no snow and at a slow speed. It wasn’t fun. At this speed, i’m going to crash hard. If I lucky, I’ll just skid long the curb down to the bottom of the hill. More likely, I’ll bounce off, spin around a few 360s while I bounce on and off the curb. And most likely I’ll just crash and burn. I’m going to be lying on the hill somewhere bleeding and hurt. At the speed I was traveling it was going to be a very ugly.

I’ve started 3 stories and deleted them before I decided to make story this my first blog.  I choose this story because I want to tell you giving up is easy. Too many people give up before they even start. Others find excuses to quit. You know who I’m talking about. The people that have an excuse for everything. If there is one thing you take away from my blogs is that you should ”try!” I NEVER use the phrase, “I can’t!” There are things I’m unable to do. I’m unable to walk, so I use a wheelchair, or my car or van to get around. I’m unable to change a light bulb, so I ask someone to for me. Quitting or giving up is easy, I don’t know how to do it. Now with that said, I do fail a lot. But its because do just sit on the couch, I’m trying to do new things. Failing is a great teacher, never be afraid to fail. Writing this blog is something new to me.

I’m looking at the curb and I can see the very spot I’m going to hit it in about 4 second. I know if I do nothing, I’m going to hit the curb, so without really thinking, I took my right brake off. If I was on dry pavement, that’s what I would do. Less right brake and more left brake.

Holy crap!! When I did my speed nearly doubled, instantly! But I wasn’t going toward the curb anymore. Since my left brake was still locked, my wheelchair instantly turned toward the center of the street. I’m now flying down the hill at a 45 degree angle to the direction of the center of the street and way too fast. Plus sliding down the hill almost sideways like this is a recipe to flip over on my side. Then almost as fast as I took the right brake off, I put it back on again. It stopped me from gaining more speed, but it turned my wheelchair back towards the curbs. Except now I wouldn’t hit the curb for anther few feet further down the hill. My heart is pounding and I not sure if I’m breathing, but I just might be able to get this to work. I take the right brake off to stop going towards the curb and now on to keep from gaining more speed, off then on, off then on, off then on.

I couldn’t tell you how many time I took my right brake off, then put it on again, but it must have been at least 6 or 8 times. How fast was I going? Fast enough to scare the crap out if me! I never want to go that fast in a wheelchair again. How close did I come to hitting the curb? Less then a foot!

As I got closer to the bottom of the hill, I was able to start pulling away from the curb. But at the speed I was traveling, there was no way I was going to stop for the intersection. A quick look both ways, no cars, thank God. I’m going to church next Sunday. lol

I finally came to a stop about  20 to 30 feet on the other side of Crescent street. I started to breath again as I turned around to look at my wheelchair tracks down the hill. They start at the top all nice and even and parallel, about 20 some inches apart. Then about half of the hill its a zig zag mess. Then finally parallel again to where I ended. I can’t wait until they make the movie of my life, so I get to watch the stuntman come down that hill.

I looked up Crescent street to decide how I was going to wheel home. On the street, r on the sidewalk. The sidewalk would suck. With the snow, I wouldn’t be able to see the sidewalk. I wouldn’t be able to see where the joints are uneven because of the trees. I then turned the other way towards the lake. The Pier I was just a few blocks away. The little voice in my head said, ”go have a beer and think about it.” So I did. I wheeled into the Pier I covered in snow. There were 3 people and a bartender in there. They looked at me and asked where I came from. I told them home. They didn’t want to believe it, but the snow all over me convinced them I wasn’t lying. After a beer or two with them, Todd offered me a ride home in his Camaro.

Again, I choose this story as my first because of several things. First, I believe you should get out of the house and do something. And take a few chances. Things aren’t going to work out the way you planned, but don’t give up. And finally, if you try but find out you need help, there are people out there that will help. I was so glad Todd offered me a ride home. I had had enough excitement for the night.

My first blog. Its a little rough, but its a start. Hopefully I’ll learn and get better.