Sunday Funday

Sunday is special - not because of football or church, or drink specials at some stupid club. Garage sales and open houses don’t deserve any special recognition , although the latter is sort of involved I guess. After a long week of appointments, oxygen dives and couch conquering, Sunday is a breath of fresh air. A day for adventures.

This all started because my families home, my post leg explosion residence, is on the market, and every Sunday there’s an open house (you see the involvment now). I experimented with hanging out during the 3 hours of social madness. It could work out nicely right? Lounging, soaking up a little social contact, and maybe even inspiring enough sympathy to throw some prospective buyer over the edge clenching a sell for my folks. However, after a few open houses it became clear that I was anything but useful. Actually my horror story is more of a distraction, and to be honest I’d rather not talk to most of these people. So Bridget came up with an idea. On Sundays we’d venture into the great wide world of Santa Barbara and do “normal” things - the kind of things that your average lazy (or is it busy?) American would consider an adventure.

3920 Pueblo Ave Santa Barbara CA

My dilapidated state adds just enough spice to these otherwise mundane outings. The Coral Casino, Breakwater and the SB Zoo, are all somewhat exciting when tackled by walker or wheelchair. The change of scenery is wonderful, the shredding index is high, and one of us usually gets a decent workout. When the walker’s in play, I quickly work up a sweat and when pushing a full grown man in a wheelchair even Bridget’s Bolivia toned legs start to burn. Last Sunday was especially interesting.

The plan was to grab the dogs and head out to Lake Los Carneros in Goleta. Neither of us had been there in years, but seemed to remember a nice paved path and an easily accessible lake. It would be perfect. Bridget could push the wheelchair and the dogs would have plenty to keep them busy. It’d be fun.

I should mention - our wheelchair isn’t the nicest one on the market. In fact this piece of shit is more like a Tyco My First Wheelchair thats sold at Toys R Us or something. The whole thing’s made of plastic and the wheels are about the size of bicycle training wheels. So not only does it require a driver, but because of those ingeniously designed wheels, every crack, bump and pebble can potentially flip the passenger right out of the chair. But that wouldn’t matter today. This was a well paved path. There was no concern about the Tyco chair. Piece of cake.

Things started off well enough. Bridget managed to find the parking lot and even though the “Dogs must be kept on leash” signs were fairly obvious, the small number of cars in the lot signaled we’d probably be able to get away with letting the them run free. Like I was gonna try and walk Bosco while sitting in a wheel chair with a broken leg. It would be safer to strap me into an F14 after a few cocktails.

Anyways, we started off down the well paved path, throwing balls and frisbees for the canines and enjoying the sun on our faces. About halfway around the lake it became clear that the only way down to the water was via some dirt paths. No doubt the dogs wanted at the lake, and both of us were committed to getting them there. The paths did look questionable, but Bridget was sure she could navigate her way down without dumping her precious cargo, that being me.

After numerous “close calls” the journey ended about 50 meters from waters edge. Loose sand swallowed the training wheels preventing any forward movement for chair and passenger. No big deal. Bridget and the dogs continued on while I maintained base camp. Needless to say, Bella and Bosco had a blast chasing frisbees, balls and ducks. Bosco was especially tenacious covering himself in a thick layer of swamp sludge. Of course Bella, always the lady, kept things tidy by only dipping her feet in.

Retreat from the lake proved more difficult than expected. The chair was dug in deep and simple push wasn’t going to be enough. While I attempted to take weight off my hopping on one foot, Bridget yanked on the thing from the front. Each cycle of this created a few inches of forward movement, but the chair refused to generate any amount of momentum. Eventually, after dozens of hops and yanks we hit hard ground and Bridget returned to the driver’s seat, pushing chair and Micah up the the fairly steep hill back to flat ground.

After completing this trip to the lake we were all ready for the car. However, instead of backtracking down paved path we’d already traveled, a decision was made to continue the loop even though the section just ahead of us was clearly unpaved. It’s probably just this little bit right? They paved the whole other side. Why wouldn’t they pave the rest of it? Seemed logical enough at the time. Well, turns out this wasn’t the case. Further down the trail conditions worsened. Groomed dirt quickly turned to mountainous dirt. We were optimistic, but the path was obviously out to get us.

Lady luck did grant us one gift though - a bobcat sighting. Yeah. We’re wheeling down the dirt path and a full grown bobcat comes trotting out the bushes. Super cool. Bosco had no idea how to react. He sort of looked at us and then frantically paced back and forth. The bobcat just moseyed on its way.

Shortly after our feline sighting the path unleashed its full fury. The steep almost mountainous section in front of us was impassable by chair. Our only option was a three point crab walk, so I dismounted and began an awkward scramble down the dusty hill to the wooden bridge at its base. The bridge crossing, while simple, led to yet another complicated hill. Luckily Bridget looked around and realized that were very close to the car. Her plan was to get back to the vehicle, stow the dogs and return with the walker which would hopefully facilitate an escape.

Upon her return, I began working up the last “pitch” or the day. Hoping with a walker on uneven ground is precarious to say the least. Almost every placement lacks all four points of contact, so each step is a bit of a gamble. It creaked and moaned as my bodies weight layed into it at odd angles, the hard plastic warping a little more with each hop. I was making good time, and it still must have taken close to forever to get my ass up that damn hill, but eventually I made it.

So everyone survived what had become a full value adventure. Bridget helped me into the car. I couldn’t wait to get some lunch. A nice sandwich and huge glass of cold water sounded good. What would I get... turkey and swiss... curried chicken salad.... maybe some sort of melt.....? The options danced through my head as I relaxed back into the seat propping my good foot up on the dash and.... Oh shit. The foot slid right off leaving a fresh smearing of, yes, dog shit. Somehow during the final climb I’d managed to hit a land mine and neither of us had noticed. The next 20 minutes were spent cleaning A.C vents and birkenstocks,. A perfect ending to an afternoon gone a rye at no extra charge.