I've spent the last months of the summer motorcycle season riding with an "outlaw" Harley biker dude who has often made me smile so broadly that I have forgotten how to frown. We've had adventures and misadventures and our friendship is growing strong. He is not afraid of my oddly-abled movement, or my random quirks owed to my broken brain. He is good medicine for my ailing self image and doubt filled future. He lives the day seeing possibilities where I see limits. It's inspiring; inspiration begets hope and hope is good medicine. He phoned me a while ago, on a day when I was struggling with impaired balance, gaits and movement in all that I attempted. It was a bad day; a vivid image of one possible future constrained by dysfunction and little could be done to dissuade such an outcome. Hearing the blues in my voice he asked the reason. It's not my nature to be down on myself. Choking back prideful tears, I revealed that I was having an "off-day" and feared that it would become my norm eventually. "I don't want to live the rest of my life watching the world go by, sometimes on motorcycles. I can give up horses very easily after 43 years of my life with them. But the thought of not being able to ride on a motorcycle with a good friend is terrifying for me. . ." His confident response
; "I've got that all figured out for you. I will get a side car so you can ride with me. If you are in a wheel chair, I'll modify the side car so you could roll right in, like a chariot. Then off we'd go; it'll be awesome. . ." I was elated, with all of this. Not just that there was a solution to my "worst-case-scenario"; but that this humble, green mountain man, imagined an exceptional solution so that I, and other differently abled persons, could feel the wind in their face and hear the thunder of Harley loud pipes. His spirit of "all things are possible and most of them doable" lifted my spirits and painted my future hopes and dreams the color of indigo ~ the color of imagination, the color of hope. When we said good bye and I drifted cheerfully into a sidecar day-dream, it was then I remembered that his eyes are a very warm blue as well. . . then thought, what other genius he might imagine for a differently-abled biker chick like me.
luv, ride, love ~ ell
this one is for them that can imagine genius. . .
; "I've got that all figured out for you. I will get a side car so you can ride with me. If you are in a wheel chair, I'll modify the side car so you could roll right in, like a chariot. Then off we'd go; it'll be awesome. . ." I was elated, with all of this. Not just that there was a solution to my "worst-case-scenario"; but that this humble, green mountain man, imagined an exceptional solution so that I, and other differently abled persons, could feel the wind in their face and hear the thunder of Harley loud pipes. His spirit of "all things are possible and most of them doable" lifted my spirits and painted my future hopes and dreams the color of indigo ~ the color of imagination, the color of hope. When we said good bye and I drifted cheerfully into a sidecar day-dream, it was then I remembered that his eyes are a very warm blue as well. . . then thought, what other genius he might imagine for a differently-abled biker chick like me.
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