Last night’s mechanical involved a bolt failure on my Triride attachment.
At 15mph the thing jackknifed and I hit the ground very hard.
In situations like this, men are very capable. In subtle things, like moving a chair out of the way, or opening a door, they’re not. But in lifting a Paralysed fella off the pavement carefully and sticking him back in his wheelchair, they’re tip top.
As I can’t just be stuck in the chair, with the Triride attached, it has to be taken apart first.
As blokes are very good at listening to coherent instructions and carrying them out, exactly, I was glad that my helpers were male. Men and women have different traits, and the mechanical instruction thing is definitely better observed by men, I’ve found. I was actually amazed by how precisely they followed my requests, as I’m used to asking women to help me – I live with 4, and have female carers, and I know that what I ask and what is then done are rarely the same thing.
Anyway, I digress. They detached the Triride, lifted me into the chair, reattached the Triride without the essential bolt, and then clearly followed my instructions to use 3 industrial quality cable ties ( which I’m never without ) as a bolt substitute.
After they’d finished, I said ‘ thanks for helping a Welshman ‘ Obviously, it being the first day of the 6 nations, that got the response ‘ fuck, if we’d known that, we’d have left you on the pavement ‘
Humour in adversity- always my specialty.
I had no choice but to carry on my way, with 4 miles to go, as a bus wait in the cold promised to be 30 minutes.
I ‘drove ‘ slowly and carefully for those 4 miles, ignoring the cold that was seeping into my body from my still feet upwards, but by the time I got back I was shivering quite violently.
Today I can hardly use my left arm, and my left ribs are sore. Thankfully I’d crashed to the concrete on my intact rib cage side rather than the broken side, which may well have just collapsed upon impact.
What a fun day I had, overall then.
As usual, I’ll swallow it and carry on.