I had an outing yesterday in my motorized wheelchair... which is no small feat. First I have to get my leg brace on. Then I have to chase my cat Chloe-- I use the term "chase" loosely because it amounts to bribing her with food to be sequestered in the bathroom before she gets out when I open the door of my apartment. I live on the second floor so I have to wait for an elevator. Then I have to find someone to help me open the door to my apartment building because the door is locked, making it non-handicapped accessible for someone in a wheelchair . Once I am out, I am relatively free. That is, unless I get run-over in traffic.
By and large, I don't complain about minor (or major) inconveniences. I have only so many words and so much energy to get through the day. BUT, when an old geezer speeds up in his car to get around my wheelchair, and he sees me, and I have the right-of-way, and he has a stop sign, and I in the middle of the street, and he looks at me like I am a criminal for crossing the street as he speeds up ... There is only one thing to say, "what the F@#$!"
Just two blocks before that one classy young man on his bicycle (13 or so), stopped on his bicycle to let me cross in front of him, I smiled, and without saying a word he waited for me to get safely across the street before catching up with his friends. There is only one thing to, "thank you!"