The sun broke through as we wound down back country roads of rural western Washington. Called my 87-year old uncle to catch up on the past month as my husband drove us (in the Subaru) to the Abate Swap Meet in Monroe, Washington. Two birds...one stone. I got to learn all about his seven children and bunches of grandchildren. All of whom I've never met, including my uncle. Another blessing of my ALS diagnosis...I guess people want to meet me before it's too late.
This was my first public motorcycle event since my diagnosis. I figured that I'd be in too much emotional pain over not being able to ride a motorcycle anymore. Fortunately, it wasn't so bad. We had an agenda, I'm selling my 2006 Harley Davidson Softail Deluxe and I had flyers to deliver as well as family and friends to socialize with. My brother and sister-in-law are very active in the motorcycle community and we have mutual friends. This was also my first outing using a manual wheelchair...kind of a weird first experience. Normally I'd arrive astride my own bike to such events, balancing perfectly even at low speeds, and a woman on her own motorcycle always manages to turn heads. I noticed that I still turn heads but they turn away for the most part. Kind of a shame, I'm a smiler and a friendly person. Always have been.
We finally found the booth manned by my husband's brother, his wife, and a few friends. And despite the shock of seeing me in the wheelchair, it was so refreshing to have people smile, greet me, and bend down to hug me. I started to cry when the first person asked how I was doing, how was I REALLY doing. I recovered quick enough to save my eye make-up, always a bonus as it is so difficult to put it on in the first place. We had a good long visit amid the throngs of leather-clad bikers searching for deals. One of their friends, failed to recognize me and we got to talk like new acquaintances again. That is really good because he was rude last year and I told him off. A poor memory on other people is sometimes a beautiful thing. He was quite charming.
We finally found the booth manned by my husband's brother, his wife, and a few friends. And despite the shock of seeing me in the wheelchair, it was so refreshing to have people smile, greet me, and bend down to hug me. I started to cry when the first person asked how I was doing, how was I REALLY doing. I recovered quick enough to save my eye make-up, always a bonus as it is so difficult to put it on in the first place. We had a good long visit amid the throngs of leather-clad bikers searching for deals. One of their friends, failed to recognize me and we got to talk like new acquaintances again. That is really good because he was rude last year and I told him off. A poor memory on other people is sometimes a beautiful thing. He was quite charming.
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