No Two Wheels are Alike – Risky Business

By: Wanda Ehrlich

September 19, 2005

Talk about withdrawals! 

I'm foaming at the bit to be back on the bike!  I feel like the rambunctious full bladder'd puppy at the front door, watching those bike riders skim by and wanting nothing more than to be nipping at their heels! I’m ready to piddle and there’s no one home to clean up the mess…they’re all out biking!

Try changing from a 200 – 250 mile weekly average of bike riding to the immediate two and a half month confinement of a wheelchair…the new two wheeler in my life. You want to talk about being humbled. I thought I’d been exposed to every rehab possible. I doubt there’s a rehab for cyclist syndrome, but there should be.

Who’d of thought that a regular Wednesday night ride would have caused my life to be turned upside down and inside out? I’ve had plenty of time to reflect, digest, and go inward to examine the new me. It goes without saying that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone…but there’s something else that seems so eminent now, so , close; closer than the grill of the SUV that wakes me up every night in a cold sweat. We are the only creatures on this planet to equate everything to time frames: yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Yet, all we have is today; there are no guarantees. Will this new enlightenment change me? Will I cower when I’m back on the saddle again? Or, will I take more risks, knowing that tomorrow may never come?  I guess time will tell. I do know that I will show the utmost respect and compassion for those confined to the two wheeler that no one wishes to be riding.

I'm hoping all are well and enjoying the gorgeous weather made for riding, as for me; I still have many months of therapy ahead...the leg is doing well with the exception of the fact they overlooked the big toe being broke.  It started to heal funny and now does not allow me to get my foot in any shoe that I own.  Now, if you are a woman reading this...you'll understand...I just may have to have it re-broke, as the 50+ pair of shoes that I own are as useless as the dust bunnies under my bed, which by the way, are growing into a bumper bunny crop since the accident.

The shoulder, arm, and hand are the culprits preventing me from doing most any functions in a daily routine.  The doctors say nerve damage heals at the rate of a 1/4 centimeter a month. So, many things are not doable yet.  However; I am extremely optimistic, and if I’ve learned anything from my accident, it’s definitely patience, tolerance, and above all...to count my blessings! I will be one of the fortunate ones who recover…many do not have that opportunity. So call me “Lucky.”

Being humbled by my new two wheeler definitely provided me with a new conscientiousness to the handicapped life. I will never again question the 20 parking spaces reserved for handicapped people in parking lots because there’s rarely one available at any shopping mall or grocery store. I will always open doors or assist anyone in a wheelchair if I feel they are struggling to maneuver…or at least ask them if they need help. You’d be amazed at how people “overlook” those in wheelchairs May I suggest…next time you see someone in a wheelchair…look them directly in the eyes and smile and say “hello”…you’d be surprised how that little gesture could very well be the highpoint of their day!

I now know what it is like (similar to a child in a stroller) being at a lakefront festival (Irish Fest) amongst the hundreds of “walking” milling about while you are searching the crowd for familiar (or maybe attractive) knee caps. Your proxemics change drastically; you are overly protective of the injured anatomy. There’s nothing I would have liked more than to be equipped with a taser gun or cattle prod, although I suspect the crowd would have quickly dissipated. Maybe a sign that announced “Armed and Dangerous,” would have been appropriate. There’s nothing worse then catching sight of one of the wee folk brandishing a shillelagh like “Braveheart” while his folks are quaffed to the gills and knee deep in conversation with many who are wading in the same froth of “over beveragedness,” (I’ve learned to block extremely well with my right arm). I must admit, my temporary handicap did in fact get us rock star seating away from the mobs of those who most likely would have a difficult time finding their buses home; hopefully not cars…pretty scary…to think they’d be driving…which leads me right into my next paragraph.

Driving…vehicles built like armored cars…weighing 6,000+ pounds…metal claiming to have a smooth look, nice contours, appealing appearance…not so says the wounded me. There is nothing on a vehicle that is appealing once you’ve been hit. I will always reserve a twinge of apprehension when I see an SUV turning a corner, while the inattentive driver is conversing on a cell phone. It could very possibly be the last time they find the courage to jump in their 5 ton vehicle and think they have everything under control.

Control...we all think we have everything under control, the motorist, the cyclist, the pedestrian. That is so far from the truth. I always thought I knew what I was doing on a bike. I had put on enough miles, traveled the same roads so many times that I knew them like the back of my hand…I was an “experienced rider” and knew the rules. The rules mean SQUAT when some driver isn’t paying attention, or when some cyclist thinks they have the right of way, or blows through a stop sign. The day before my accident I was almost run off the road in Thiensville by someone…I knew I was in the “right,” I knew the rules. Big Deal! Rules can be broken…just like my bones.

Driving, bike riding, and being a pedestrian require an attitude that NO ONE is paying attention. Obey the rules; stop at stop signs, look both ways, don’t throw caution to the wind, as you may not be as “Lucky” as I. Don’t take anything for granted (especially tomorrow), your rights are waived with risk. No risk no gain…no risk no pain…which is it? When an accident happens no one wins; the lawyers may think so, but there are no winners…only victims. So the next time you are out and about, whether it be in that 5 ton SUV, or on that sweet 20 pound two wheeler, remember both can get you a new two wheeler for a price NO ONE wants to pay.

Try this surprise visit: Go buy a couple dozen carnations or any flowers for that matter…ride to your nearest nursing home/rehabilitation home and hand a flower to each person in a wheelchair. Tell them it’s from one two wheeler to another.