Norman came out to take a look, limping heavily on his newly fitted artificial leg. He looked at the bike and said "That's a nice little bike you've got there, you've kept that nice," so I waxed lyrical about my little dream machine. Then Norman asked me if he could sit on it.
I said "I don't know Norman, can you sit on it?" He looked carefully at it and then asked me to hold the handlebars whilst he swung his good leg over the very low seat. There he sat, the biggest grin on his face.
"Do you know, I think I could manage one of these, it's so low you see, I can get my leg over and I can flick the side stand down with my hand whilst I'm sitting here. Mind you, it would have to be adapted with the gears on the handlebars but I bet it could be done." He looked so excited it brought a lump to my throat. I turned to Anne who was standing nearby looking quite nervous.
"Anne, he's going to want one now, don't blame me, you asked me to bring it round," I said knowing I would be in for some stick later if he did get it into his head that he wanted one and Anne was against it. However, Anne just smiled. I think she was pleased to see Norman so happy and if he wanted an adapted bike, well they'd face that hurdle when they got to it.
A few weeks later I watched a man with a terrible wasting disease being interviewed on the local news, about a medical breakthrough that might lead to a cure for his illness. As he struggled to get his breathe he said "If I could just enough breath to have one more go on my motorbike I would be a happy man." Now that did make me cry because I think I partly understood what he was talking about. This motorbike thing gets under your skin.
Missus On A Motorbike Jackie Hartley pp119-120