Conveyances

Yesterday I had to leave my home turf for a haircut (two months later than intended) and saw several unexpected things on wheels.

First was the limousine I had to cross in front of to get back to the subway post-lid adjustment. By which I mean:

a real limousine.

Not rented for a wedding, not heading to the airport. A black stretch limousine a lady had called to deliver her to her hair appointment just as though it were a taxi, and, in that moment, was telling the driver she had called to come back and collect her in two hours. I had no idea such things existed in this city. As the light changed, the driver was graciously helping the lady out of her seat, and I recalled my friend and her hopefully temporary walker because they are in much the same state. I hope she had fun at the salon.

Next: a wheelchair on the bus!

I have been riding on wheelchair-friendly buses and elevators and subways on public transit for years now and have never actually seen a wheelchair-operating person using any of them, so that was pretty exciting. The woman whose wheelchair it was couldn't have been a lot younger than the lady in the limo, but she was a lot hipper, with seriously spiky heels on her metal-studded boots. It was very cool to watch her casually hook the chair into the space created when the driver folded up three seats.

And then -

back home again, I had time to kill, which always means a pit stop at the coffee shop for a hot chocolate. Sitting in a deep armchair pondering life (not really; I was pondering where on earth I could have dropped a stitch in my knitting) I suddenly looked up and the entire window of the shop had turned bright yellow, as though the sun had abruptly dropped into the road out front. After a few awestruck moments I saw black letters slowly moving into the frame from the left and as traffic picked up again I read the name of a large grocery chain's off-brand label in giant letters. Transport truck. Not as tall as a cruise ship parked in the harbour in Hamilton, in Bermuda, but big enough.

You know what wasn't on wheels?

Me.

I wonder whether I should get my little scooter out of the garage, now that we're getting some Spring?