A Special Club

It’s like a club with special membership qualifications. And I belong to it.

We drive mostly like we drive cars. We follow the rules of the road, passing on the left and pretty much staying on the right of our space unless it is already occupied by people just standing around talking on their cell phones or chatting with the friend they haven’t seen since Tuesday. 

I was shopping yesterday when I met a man who was using a scooter. We automatically said hello and started talking about the weather, the good and bad parts of our scooters, the price of groceries, the same things that you folks who are walking talk about. Of course, we did not have cell phones in our ears because, after all, we were driving.  

My point is that those of us who are mobility impaired talk to each other with no introductions needed.  Folks who walk to the store entry and walk around inside rarely have spontaneous conversation unless they already know the person they are talking with.

People who ride motorcycles are the same way. I know this because I rode one for over 45 years. Even spent a year traveling to every National Park in the country with a sleeping bag, tent, a couple of pairs a jeans, silverware, a pot and a map. All of us bikers talked to each other. If we were traveling over 50 mph, we most likely waved rather than talking, but the communication was there all the same. We didn’t bother even waving at 4 wheelers.

Time was Volkswagen drivers were the same. I think RV’ers are also the same these days.

The members of my club are always helpful, friendly and I suppose our scooters or wheelchairs are our uniforms rather like Girl Scouts.

But our uniforms are more interesting.