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On the evening of August 12, 1990, I walked for the last time as I
climbed aboard my Harley-Davidson Tour Glide. As I was enjoying the ride home,
with a beautiful sunset to keep me company, I decided to accompany the sweet
rumble of the exhaust with some tunes. As I was loading the tape player, I
failed to notice the road curved to the left and was rudely made aware of this
mistake as the scooter left the asphalt. The gravel of the shoulder did not do
much to help correct this mistake and the Harley went down. I don't remember
anything after that until I woke up, face down in the ditch, sometime in the
night. I quickly realized what the problem was and I knew if I lived until
morning, someone would find me. When I heard the birds start their early morning
singing, the hope of being found increased. After the sun had been up for
awhile, I heard a vehicle drive by, slow down, then back up. The two men in the
truck had spotted the bike in the tall weeds, but hadn't seen me, so I yelled
and they walked over to me. I told them not to touch me and that one them of needed
to call for medical help. After being in the ditch for 9 hours, I was taken to
local hospital, then flown to Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee to begin 2 1/2
months of rehabilitation. |
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I'm not going to get into technical explanation of my injury (C6/7 Inc.) or tell you what
an inspiration I am to other people, because the former is not really very
interesting reading and latter is just so much B.S.
As far as being an inspiration, it's just a matter of getting by on a day to
day basis, just like every one else. There are people I know who are truely role
models, not because of a disability, but because of what they do to help others.
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Click on this and be beamed up to the black hole of
John Callahan's humor |
