Traffic was slow on my way home. There was someone in the bike lane. On a bike? No. Power wheelchair? Yes.
His chair was medium sized and scarlet colored, dwarfed slightly under the weight of his large belly. A little feather attached to his brown fedora wiggled in the wind as he pushed the chair’s engine to its max- roughly 2.4 mph. His cane balanced between his legs. His front basket overflowed with plastic bags of groceries. His sport jacket was worn and frayed at the cuffs. As I swung wide to give this man a wide berth, he lifted his left fist in the air. I began to question my actions. Was my berth not wide enough? Was I proceeding forward too quickly? Was his heart exploding in a massive coronary revolt against his large midsection? As my mind raced with possible explanations for the very precarious fist pump, he made a slow right hand turn.
Glad to know you still obey the signals of the road buddy-- even if your vehicle does not meet the required specifications.
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