I drive, and I’ve done so since I was 15 1/2 (which used to be, and possibly still is, the age at which you can drive with a parent in New Hampshire, no permit necessary- live free or die, bitches!). I guess the idea of a wheelchair user driving is surprising to many people. Often, after finding out that I drive, people ask me, “Can you walk at all?” Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with driving. It’s not like I have a Flintstone car or Fisher-Price toy car that I propel with my feet. In fact, I don’t use my feet to drive at all; there is a hand control hooked up to the pedals that I pull for gas and push to brake, and a knob on my steering wheel to make it easier to steer with one hand.

Another driving-related gripe I’ve been meaning to write about is as follows. In order to put my wheelchair into my car, I have to take the wheels off, fold it, and put it in the passenger seat; a pain in the ass, yes, but something I do all the time. Every time I am seen doing this I am asked if I need help, and I always politely decline. Most of the time people continue on their merry way. But sometimes people slowly pseudo-back-away while staring at me because I guess they’re just so damn curious (or perhaps dubious) about how I’m going to do it. Much like this guy, these people just need to myob and forget about me.  I said no thanks- now go away.