Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Post 52 - Be Careful What You Wish For

Post 51 lamented the fact that I was pretty much housebound while my power scooter was in the shop getting some needed repairs. The overhaul even included a new set of batteries so, needless-to-say, I was anxious to resume my exploits, which included twice a day walks of man’s best friend, my 7-yr-old Shih Tzu, Chico (he walks, I ride). At this point, I should mention that the day before I had resumed my pool exercises, which basically involved me flailing around for about a half an hour. Boy, am I out of shape!

After a few uneventful Chico-trips with the newly energized scooter, yesterday I decided to take him on a different path, intended to avoid the sun and heat. All went well until he decided to climb a small incline where he promptly answered nature’s call. As a good neighbor, I came equipped with necessary bags and tissues to clean things up. All I needed to do was drive the scooter up the small hill to pick up the item in question and reverse it back to the brick walkway.

The trouble began when I backed-up the scooter on the walkway to make a running start up the small slope so it would not get bogged down in the somewhat tall grass. Now, you may have guessed what happened next, which seems comical now but was not so funny while it was unfolding. Up the incline I charged - only to have the rear wheels start spinning furiously when they hit the tall, still damp grass. Since the rear-end had no traction, the front-end rose up like a bucking bronco, and promptly tried to shake me off. A scooter has two small, safety wheels which are supposed to prevent back-flips and, which would have worked as planned here if they did not sink into the damp earth. So, next thing I knew, I was lying on my back next to an upturned scooter. Meanwhile, Chico, instead of playing the Lassie role and bringing help, had headed off down the path to sniff the flowers and other neat smells. Also, every time I tried to get up and right the scooter, my weakened, swimming-exhausted legs, would make me fall over again and each fall would bring me closer to our lake containing at least two gators.

I also realized I could not call out for help since, with the shape my voice is in, anybody who heard me would have thought some animal was caught in a trap and basically ignored me – I would just have to wait until somebody walked by. I have come to the conclusion that an injured party could die and possibly decay before some other dog-walker might stumble across him.

So after about a half-hour of waiting, and realizing I had about as much chance for being happened upon as being hit by a meteor (wait, the way my luck has been going) I summoned up what little strength I had remaining and with scraped, bleeding knees, finally pulled myself upright, re-assembled the scooter and headed to collect Chico, who had strolled about 100 yards away where he eyed me with a “where you been all this time” look. The “package” will have to wait – like I’m ever going to take that path again. And yes – guess who forgot his cell phone?