Monday, November 18, 2013

I was such a little punk.

I was such a little punk.

I HAD to get up onto the bike path if it was the last thing I did. I loved that bike path more than anything (apparently).

It was a path that went from Seal Beach (where I lived at the time) all the way up to the San Gabriel mountains...a 61 mile trip, one way. At the north end of this river is the famous "Bridge to Nowhere" where people hike to and bungee off. This path/trail was part of my journey that fateful day in March, 1986. To get to this bike path, you could enter from our apartment complex parking lot. There was a step down, a sandy trough then a steep hill up to the elevated path.

However, this escapade brings us to maybe around June/July of the same year. I asked my father if he could get me up there. I wanted to check it out and I guess relive something of my pre-broken neck times just months before this day. What's a father to do? Deny his son this little harmless trip? No. What does he do? He pushes his son down the step and the front wheels of the chair drop down and get stuck in the sand. His son, with a giant cell phone tower bolted to his head, topples out of the wheelchair and bashes his metal framed head into the ground. I guess getting up onto the bike path was not meant to be.

Fast forward 27+ years: the proper chair to do such a stunt would obviously be the Trekinetic K2. It would have easily transitioned down the drop and then be easily pushed up the hill to the top of the bike path.

(photo on right © Gary Chapman)

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