The Wind In My Face

From the age of two or three an able-bodied person can expect to experience the feeling of air rushing on their faces. In the beginning it must be a strangely exciting sensation and one often sees children getting the same satisfied look on their faces as one sees on dogs with their heads out of car windows. Heads slightly back, eyes wide, and jowels flapping in the breeze. At speed of course it can quickly become bugs in the teeth and some years ago on the back of a bakkie in the Lowveld a friend named Piet swallowed a flying beetle. I'm not sure who was most surprised, Piet at having an early bug breakfast, or “Jonah” the bug.

For a disabled child, or adult for that matter, speed is not a sensation we easily experience, unless it is motorised. No running and no bicycling for us, we have to get our rush of air by artificial means. With speed comes a strange element of independence. It's easy to trundle along in a group, but its fun to accelerate away on one's own, free of assistance.

Some time ago I corresponded with a teacher in the UK who was launching a programme of driving lessons for wheelchair kids. Now there's a job for you! Don't think boring old Alan Johnston on DriveTime . . . "And the chair delivers 55 Newton-metres of torque, and the boot looks like this, and the steering wheel looks like that". Does anybody even know what a Newton-metre is? Think more Jeremy Clarkson and TopGear! . . . Think of four wheel power slides, and limited slip diffs, and smoking rear tyres. Think "fastest chair from a standing start down the studio corridor", or "fastest powerchair lap around the TopGear parking lot".

Anyway, to return to our intrepid wheelchair driving school teacher . . . He (she? can you tell the difference via eMail?) was developing a course to teach newly disabled kids how to handle chairs, both manual and power. Rather than saying "don't wheel fast" they were saying "let's teach you how to handle this thing". We all know that there is nothing more dangerous than a new rollerblader, drifting slowly down a slope with their arms flailing in every direction, ready to latch on to any upright object (which might be you) and cling on. Far better a fast, agile rollerblader who blasts past you in perfect control and balance. So the driving instuctor was going to build a slalom course of big cushions, drums, driving cones, etc and they were going to invite the local traffic police to add some fun with their uniforms and white gloves. I think that is smart, it is innovative, and if done correctly will result in wheelchair users who can not only wheel with safety and sureity, but will also feel confident about themselves and their mode of transport.

The Mother Grundy's out there can chill for a moment. This is not a piece in praise of dodgem cars. Any fool can drive a powerchair into a wall. It's not how many people you hit, but how many you miss. I'll keep the slow speed and fixed stare on the patch of ground immediately in front of me for my later years when I need to strap a walking cane to my joystick.

I drive my powerchair heads up. I like the feeling of the wind on my face. My jowels don't flap just yet, but no doubt that will come in time. I want to see the slight look of panic in other pedestrians eyes as the 10m distance between us closes rapidly and they have to decide whether to step right or left . . . or will he step right or left? . . . now 7m . . . no, powerchairs can't step right or left! . . . now it's 5m . . . must I stop or will he stop? . . . 3m . . . I better do the stepping and do it now! . . . WHOOOOSH !!