Scooter Saga

I've said before that the inherited ataxias do progress neurologically*.  I know that, I've seen that, and I realize progression is both inevitable and unpredictable. I need to be ready to make appropriate accommodations.    But a dramatic transition (there have been many) is always harder to take in stride.  Earl's and my goal is to hit the 'just in time' point in acquiring new devices–neither too early, nor too late.  It's a continual struggle between my 'one day at time' ethos, self-esteem, fear, caution, and anticipation.  I'm still working on the balance. Transitioning from trekking poles to a walker had its down and upsides.  A walker removed all doubt that I had a disability** and strangers no longer had to wonder if I was drunk or high.  I felt more stable, less frightened, and it didn't impact my ability to venture out.  But, a walker for gawd's sake!  It made me feel so vulnerable—and noticeable.  I thought I h...

The warning signs were there.  It's not that I wasn't paying attention when Skeeter stalled unexpectedly *.  I was just so used to anticipating battery power failure, I neglected to check out the drive train life expectancy.  Turned out the drive train was guaranteed for one year.  We bought Skeeter in June of 2010—smart girl, Tam. Stalled on Kenolio Road in Maui Skeeter even stalled in Maui on a reasonable charge, good terrain, and only a slight incline.  It was kind of like having a big dog that has gone too far and refuses to move–pleading and swearing doesn't help.  Fortunately, a brief push from Earl did help and got us going again.  It was reassuring not to need a car pick up, but my adventurous confidence was declining.  The final straw came when Skeeter died on my usual 'downtown LO to home' route.  Granted, it was up hill and the streets were rough, but I was still on the street.  I know, I know...  The good news...