A Farewell to Print – New Mobility

New Mobility magazine has been a big part of my life. As a columnist for more than a dozen years, every few months I’d write about my latest adventure or something cool I was working on for Outdoor Tracks or Gear Hacks. As I went scrolling through the articles I’ve been fortunate enough to share, fond memories came flooding in …

… Learning to fly sailplanes brought back the feeling of freedom that one experiences while soaring. In a sailplane you are silently sailing the sky from cloud to cloud, a mile or more above the ground. You are looking for lift, following birds, watching the tractors in fields and dinky toy cars creeping along the highways. The last thing on your mind is that you live with a disability.

You feel that satisfying kick-in-the-pants as you find a thermal — rising air — then bank and circle to stay in the lift as long as possible to extend your flight even more. A few hours later you return and land at the glider field, and then reality hits. You are no longer a pilot, blending in seamlessly with the other glider pilots high above. You are now, once again, the person in the wheelchair, but you will remember that freedom forever.

… An epic, although hilarious, kayaking fail. A fellow quad friend had set out with me, but she was smart and didn’t ignore the multitudes of warning signs that the trip was destined for failure. She cancelled her turn to kayak; I did not. In my defense, the excitement of trying to kayak may have slightly dulled my usually keen (?) observation skills, and being a guy, I just couldn’t back out at the last minute. Lesson learned. I ended up sitting in the kayak upside down, with my face underwater in the gravel bottom of the pond, listening to splashing footsteps as my wife scrambled to get me upright. The camera was running; the evidence is on YouTube.

… Fantastic camping trips to the mountains, my favorite place. We went for countless walks and bike rides, taking in the incredible scenery and mountain fragrance. It brings a smile to my face when rereading those stories, but it is also bittersweet. I’m also reminded of how some of the great people I shared those times with are no longer with us or can no longer enjoy camping trips.

I remember sharing my favorite trails with my trusty dog. As a young dog she would want to run and walk for hours. As the years went by, the walks got shorter, and later they were only a few hundred yards. I celebrate that she was such a fun part of my life but am saddened that she is gone. Now I’m on my third dog. She’s in her later years, so we enjoy our short walks. I’m amazed at how fast time has flown by and how short a dog’s life is in hindsight.

… Racing around the field in a 250cc buggy with friend and fellow quadriplegic, Landon, in his Yamaha Rhino; both machines adapted for quadriplegics by Landon and his team. It was so fun to chase each other, slalom around bales and watch Landon burn doughnuts in the field. It sounded like a racetrack and the neighbors even came over to see what was going on. Landon got a thumbs-up when he explained that we were a couple of quadriplegics burning up the field on adapted ATVs.

There were so many adaptations that my friends and I came up with in the stories. We built cuffs on a 3D printer so that I could drive a zero-turn lawnmower. We made mouth-activated trigger pullers for a crossbow and rifles. We made hand controls for computer joysticks and even for driving vehicles, and joysticks to run radio-controlled aircraft and drones. We built camera mounts for action cameras.

All the things I get to do and all the adaptations and inventions have one thing in common: They are only possible with the help of my team. I may write the stories, but there would be no stories without them. I have lived an amazing, fulfilling, fun and loving life to this point. My wife, Terry, has worked so hard for so many years to make my world more normal, and has supported many hairbrained ideas, and a few good ones too. Along with Terry, my family and friends jump in immensely to help make things happen, to which I am eternally grateful. The effort they put in can’t be overstated — I only hope they get something back that makes the effort somewhat worthwhile. I get to do fun things only because of their hard work.

Living with a disability invariably means requiring assistance. Some people require very little help and live life independently, and some require a lot of help. In reading other people’s stories in New Mobility, I’m reminded that many others have a similar team of support. There are a lot of great, caring people out there, that may get overlooked at times. As a recipient of so much assistance, and someone who realizes how it makes my world so great, it inspires me to help others wherever possible to help brighten their world. It has been such a privilege to share ideas in the magazine in hopes it’ll help others.

New Mobility has allowed me and countless people a way to showcase this bright spot of our communities. It has been a way to connect with others that are on a similar journey and helps keep faith that our world will be better. Thank you, New Mobility, for sharing a great and positive side of humanity: It helps to remind us of all the good in the world.

See all of Wright’s columns and articles at newmobility.com/author/kwright.