Bradford Lad: "I'll Never Let You Go''
Mike Coatesworth tells of a runaway wheelchair, an incident which ended in laughter rather than disaster.
The sun was shining, and my missus, knowing how much I like to get out in the fresh air as often as possible, asked if we’d go to the supermarket for her. My eldest daughter was given the task of looking after me and ensuring that I came to no harm in my wheelchair.
I say task, but she has told me on many occasion that she enjoys going out with me. My youngest daughter, Lesley, then eight years old, said that she wanted to accompany us.
At this time I had a manual wheelchair. We set off along the road at a steady pace, filling our lungs with fresh Yorkshire air. I asked my daughters to listen to the birds and identify each variety with its song. We had played this game many times. They could identify magpies from starlings, and starlings from pigeons.
When we reached level ground Lesley asked if she could push me. I allowed her to do so, but told her to take it steady and not hurt herself. If she felt under pressure she realised she had to allow my eldest daughter to take over.
‘Don’t worry daddy,’ she said, ‘I’ll never let you go!’
We arrived at the supermarket and did our shopping. Then we started back home, taking a different route. Lesley again took over the pushing duties from my eldest daughter. We turned a corner, and my wheelchair began to gather speed. I presumed my eldes daughter had taken over, and was sprinting along, as she sometimes did.
I smiled, feeling the wind in my face. The smile quickly disappeared as the wheelchair continued to pick up speed, and a large wooden fence loomed ahead. I managed to slam on my brakes. The chair turned, and I hit the fence sideways rather than full on. This action saved me from injury.
‘Daddy, are you all right?’ asked a tearful Lesley. She was right there beside me. "You were going too fast!''
She explained that the wheelchair had gathered speed down an incline. Rather than let go she had jumped onto the back of the chair, clinging for dear life.
I told her I was okay. Then, imagining the scene, I chuckled, and finally laughed.
Realising that I was unhurt, Lesley managed a smile.
‘I told you that I wouldn’t let you go daddy!’ she said.
