14 Search Results for "wheelchair"
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AirHawk Tip of the Week from C
- From: manybikes
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Description:
Kyle Bradshaw meets with Greg Beck of Tucker Rocky to discuss AirHawk Seat Cushions by the ROHO Company.
AirHawk seat cushions have been providing comfort to the world for over 33 years after getting their start in the medical world. Their products have been lifesavers for those bedridden and wheelchair bound by providing a product which eliminates hot spots and bed sores.
In 2004 ROHO decided to bring these products into the motorcycle world by offering motorcycle specific cushions they named AirHawk.
The AirHawk is an air cushion featuring shape fitting technology which is in essence a system of soft flexible air cells interconnected by small channels that allows air to flow from one cell to another at a controlled rate. This is what sets the ROHO AirHawk apart from the rest of the gel or memory foam seat pads on the market. The AirHawk has the ability to protect the body from multiple forces such as fatigue, pressure, friction, sock, vibration, and much more...
For the Ultimate Air Ride, give the AirHawk a spin and you'll have a grin!
Thank you for watching this weeks Cruiser Customizing Tip of the Week!
A special shout out to Englissh - our newest member of the Cruiser of the Week Club!
Until Next Week,
Take Care & Ride Safe
Kyle
- 1 week ago
- Views: 4217
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Vegas 2009 Bike fest and beyon
- From: simmbad
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Description:
This year we had planned on riding to Vegas, but Kenny decided to “jump the shark” and crashed a scooter, breaking his hip just 2 weeks before the trip.
So being the kind hearted person I am, I sent Heather over to Kenny’s everyday leading up to the trip to make Kenny got up and walk and teach him how to use one of her old power wheelchair or I would not take Kenny with us because I knew he would not make the drive down unless he could stretch.
Friday Oct 2nd around 2am we load everyone up and head south, Vegas here we come. About 30 minutes into the drive Kenny remembers he forgot his cash at home. “Sorry Kenny no heading back now guess you’re going to have to use the CC or be broke. “ Few miles down the road Kenny yelps in pain, and starts saying he is not going to make it, I tell him I will find a bus stop and he can work his way home, after adjusting the air cushion and taking a pain pill he relaxes.
After one stop for gas and allowing Kenny to stretch his leg, we make Vegas at 9am; we head to the Main Street Hotel and Casino for breakfast, just after 10am we head over to the Cashman’s Center to get an early start at the vendor village. For a idea of events going on visit http://www.lasvegasbikefest.com/events.asp
This is my 3rd year going to Bike Fest, My last 2 trips where 2005 and 2006. I have been to hundreds of bike shows over the years; I always enjoy looking at the bikes, girls, vendor and other bikers. I will say that even thought this year the event seem a bit smaller then years past, there was still a lot to see.
There were custom wheels
Goth girls with gun!
Bikes for the little ones
Custom bikes click here to see all the photos I took.
Dealer ships selling new bikes
Demo rides by Cam-Am
The New 2011 Spider ?? Touring bike
Food and drinks….just to list a few
After seeing everything we could we headed back to our hotel to check in, clean up, rest and get ready for dinner at the http://www.hofbrauhauslasvegas.com/ , It is October Fest…. Hint if you sign up for the news letter they will send you a free beer coupon. FREE BEER!....Saturday Oct 3rd Beyond Bike Fest, The World’s largest Tattoo Show
Around 11am we head over to the Mandalay Bay Casino. After following the signs for Accessible Parking for over 30 minutes, we finally find a police officer on a bike and ask where the parking is, He has us follow him back down to Valet Parking where there are no signs but rows of empty Accessible Parking.
After we enter the Hotel we follow the signs to the Tattoo show, at the crossroads there is a sign that points up so we find the elevator and go up, where we find another group looking for the Tattoo show, after walking around we (the group) find someone and ask where the show is, and are told it is down on the first floor before you get to the Shark Reef.
Finally we make it to the show. As we start looking at all the Tattoo Artist booths, we see a small group moving toward us, I see the show Promoter and a number of people in suits, not giving it any more thought I went back to checking out the art work.
A few minutes later we are in the middle of a crowd, I look over and see what I had missed before, Sylvester Stallone. We run into the crowd a number of times over the next few hours, Heather and Kenny because of the wheelchairs got to know the security guards around Sylvester Stallone. Heather even got to talk with Mr. Stallone for a few minutes and found out he was showing some artwork to different Tattoo Artists for a new tattoo he wanted to get.
I found a booth selling framed prints, and they had a print of Elvira Mistress of the Dark which I had to get. As I turned around to leave the booth I ran into Sabina Kelley
international pinup model and burlesque dancer. All I can say is WOW; she was very nice to stop for a photo with me. 
Kenny was in heaven at the show, they had Budweiser! And he had ???? l lost count but it was more than 4….
I found a guy to touch up one of my tattoos and at a great price. After spending more the 5 hours at the show we all wanted to get something to eat. So we went back to the Main Street Hotel and Casino for dinner (note I go there a lot).
After dinner we went over to Fremont Street for the free live music and the over head light shows.
Kenny and I went into the Glitter Gulch the only Strip club downtown, because they said no cover, what they don’t say it that it’s a 2 dink min and the drinks are $8.50 no matter what you drink. After our drinks Kenny and I left, the girls seem as broad as we did.Sunday Oct 3rd BugOrama, gun show and home
We checked out of the Hotel and headed out to the Speed Way and BugOrama, we ask the guy at the gate for the Assessable Parking, he tells us he does not know where that is and points us to main parking area, as we pull in I ask another guy about parking and was told to ask the ticket sales people, so we decided that if no one knows where the parking is we should head out.
As we are getting on the freeway we hear about a Gun and Knife show so we head over. I got a photo or 2 before some vendor decide that photos were not allowed enough the Security guard was standing right there watching me. They had a lot of cool thing none of which I could bring home.
So we loaded up for the trip home, after fighting the wind for hours we made it home around 9:30pm,
- Blog post
- 1 month ago
- Views: 65
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Tribute for My Little Old Lady
- From: Hiwayprisoner
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Description:
For those of you who know me here, you remember I lost a good friend/mother in law a couple of months ago. When I'd said I was buying another bike, she's the one who went and bought me a piggy bank with the pig wearing a leather jacket. I thought it only fitting that I pay tribute to her here because of what she did. Putting this together brought all the emotions back from losing her. I've shed tears all over again reliving all the good times and even writing this about her. Kinda blows the image of big, bad biker. As I looked through pictures of her past, I discovered that not only was she beautiful inside, but was also a knockout when she was young. Just another reason why I look forward to growing old with her daughter. I hope you enjoy and that you're as lucky as I was to have known someone like her.
- 1 month ago
- Views: 172
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kiltguy
- Bronze - Neighborhood Rider
- Points:725
- Views: 131
- Since: 4 months ago
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The Test
- From: greyfalcon2112
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Description:
I wish that I had the writing talent of my friend who wrote this... It's priceless... He rides too and he works with me in a State Prison. Really warped individual live most of us there.
The Test
When I decided to apply for a job as a Corrections Officer I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I suppose I had the vision of swaggering around in a uniform being mean to people and getting paid for it. All of my experience with prison life was limited to television, movies and books.
Applying for the job was easy enough. I just went online and found the DOC website, filled out a form and clicked the mouse. It took a week or so to receive a response with the date of the video test. I made another trip or two in the truck as I waited for the test date, trying to imagine what a video test would consist of.
The day of the test arrived and of course, I got lost trying to find the testing site. This raised my anxiety level to a fever pitch so that when I finally made it to the testing room on the second floor I was out of breath and badly in need of a cigarette. The test was actually quite interesting in that the video showed different scenarios involving CO’s and offenders and asked how you would handle each one. I almost over-thought it though, by trying to guess which answer they were looking for instead of just marking the answer as I would handle it with no training.
Apparently, though, I did well enough to be called back for the physical evaluation. This was the part that I had been dreading. I had no idea what to expect but I knew that I had sat in a truck for 25 plus years and smoked 3 to 4 packs of cigarettes a day. I was in shape alright, the shape of the Pillsbury doughboy. Anyway, at last I knew what I was up against: go up two steps, across a platform, down two steps, bend and retrieve an object under the platform , set it on the platform, run 300 yards, drag a dummy weighing 150 pounds 18 feet. No problem, until I read the part about doing it in two minutes and sixteen seconds! Have they lost their collective minds????? I am a fat old truckdriver, this is gonna kill me!!!!
300 yards works out to 3 football fields or 5.77 times around my tractor/trailer. Ok, now that isn’t so bad. Wait…5.77 times around the truck? I have to take a smoke break after walking around it once to thump the tires. This is not good. I sat down and had a cigarette.
When I finished that pack, I crawled into the car and headed to Wal-mart to buy a pair of tennis shoes since the test would take place in a gymnasium. I circled the parking lot, puffing on a Camel, waiting for one of the handicapped parking spots to open up. I drummed my fingers impatiently on the dash as an old man struggled to get his oxygen bottle on its little dolly into the car with him. I could tell he wasn’t really handicapped because he wasn’t using a wheelchair, so I honked the horn at him to get things moving. He finally backed out of the spot but before I could slide in some woman in a van took it. Those cripples get all the good parking spots. I gave up and took a spot further down the row. I wanted to kick the leg out from under her walker as I passed her near the front door.
It had been over 20 years since I had worn anything but cowboy boots so the choices in tennis shoes was simply astonishing to me. There were shoes for basketball, running, soccer, shoes with little airshocks in them, shoes with headlights and taillights and the ones that really worried me, crosstrainers. Who knew they made special shoes for transvestites. Anyway, I bought the cheapest shoes I could find and headed home.
I got home and decided, by the time I bent over far enough to tie the damned shoes, that I should have bought the ones with Velcro instead of laces. I leaned back and lit a smoke as I rested from the stretching. I had 9 days to get ready for this marathon.
The next thing I had to do was measure out 300 yards on the street in front of the house. I finished my smoke and wandered out to the truck to get my tape measure. I grabbed the 50 foot tape measure and my calculator, since the tape was in feet and I needed to convert that to yards, I knew the math would probably trip me up.
I strung out the tape behind me as I walked down the street, using pebbles to mark each 50 foot section. My back was beginning to ache from all that bending over and my hamstrings were tightening from the walking so after I got 100 feet measured out, I sat down on the curb and rested. I realized that I had left my cigarettes on the porch. Well, I needed to cut back a bit.
An hour or so later I awoke from my nap, stiff and sore from all the exercise and sleeping on the concrete curb. Thankfully it grew dark before I finished so the game was called due to darkness. I made a pledge to myself, as I shuffled back to the house, that I would do this. I would get up early the next morning and get this distance measured and I would run that 300 yards or die trying.
True to my word I arose at the crack of 11:30ish the next morning and sat on the porch in my boxers and brand new tennis shoes, smoking and drinking coffee. I was very aware, from some of my reading, that long distance running is a mental game, and that all I had to do was visualize and it would be so. I leaned back, closed my eyes and pictured myself bounding down the street, strong and determined, elbows close to my side, my sleek athletic body in perfect rhythm. I awoke when the Camel between my fingers burnt them.
I began my stretching by bending down and tying my shoes. It took a bit of time but I finally found a way to sort of lean around the belly lying in my lap to reach the laces. At last I was ready. I stood at the start line, filling my lungs with the cool, fresh Missouri air, saturating my blood with oxygen. After the coughing fit I got all that cellulite headed in the same general direction and sort of waddle/jogged my way down the track.
At the 50 foot mark I had built up a head of steam like a locomotive. Oh, it felt so good, this was it, I was on my way. Somewhere around the 55 foot mark, my belly began to outpace my feet. I lost the rhythm. I would push off with the trailing foot, but could get no really altitude because at the point my belly was on the downward stroke. Then, disaster struck. I tried to stop to get back in sync but my caboose overran the locomotive and I went down in a heap. My neighbor gave me a ride home.
I sat on the porch, smoking a cigarette and pondering the situation. I realized that I had tried to do too much too soon. After lunch and a short 2 hour nap, I was back out there, walking down the street. I made it to the halfway point before the calves of my legs began to cramp and I had to use the cellphone to call Barb and have her come get me. She helped me into the house as I wondered aloud if I could go to Wal-mart and find the old man with his oxygen bottle. I lay gasping on the couch until she left for Bingo and then I duct taped her electric mixer to the side of the bathtub and made myself a sort of mini-whirlpool to sooth my aching muscles.
As I lay back in the warm water, smoking, I bumped the mixer and it fell into the bath. The electricity shot through my body, I bounced from the tub and out the front door, screaming like a banshee, stark naked, and ran that 300 yards in 15 seconds flat. Somewhere around the 290 yard mark I had an epiphany. Motivation is the key to success. I knew now that I would pass this test.
The day of the test I arrived early, having reconnoitered the location the previous day to avoid any confusion or undue stress that might in anyway hamper my performance. I watched with the utmost patience as others huffed and puffed their way around the cones placed on the gymnasium floor. The tiny button concealed in my hand assured me that I would not, could not, fail this test.
Finally, I stood at the start line. The tester gave me the instructions, I surveyed the platform, the steps, the object to be retrieved and the dummy lying there in wait. The whistle blew and I glided the first few steps to the platform, ascended it with ease, flowed down the opposite side, bend and retrieved the object and placed it on the platform. I then turned to the cones and began my journey, blasting down the straights and slowing slightly for the turns at each end.
At the halfway mark, I felt my body begin to tire, my legs to feel like rubber, my breath was wheezing, I was dying. With grim determination I pressed the tiny button in my hand, just a quick push and release. The business end of the stockprod that was duct taped between my ass cheeks sparked and I shifted gears as though my tailfeathers were on fire.
I was bounding around the track now, strides lengthened, a high pitched scream on my lip as I pressed the button each time a foot hit the floor. The cones were a blur as I flew past. I made the final turn, slid to a stop before the dummy, grabbed the rope, leaned into it and hit the button in a long sustained burst. As the stockprod shot fire between my butt cheeks I farted. Like a well shot rocket, I slammed into the wall fifty feet from where the dummy had laid.
As I lay in a heap, sobbing, the tester walked over and said, “You passed and , ummm, your tennis shoes are smoldering”.
Curt Patterson
May, 2009
- Blog post
- 4 months ago
- Views: 178
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Heather hamming it up
- From: simmbad
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Description:
2-20-06, in less then 4 weeks only working on the weekends with the help of Kenny, Kyle and Mike, we modifyed a stock Ural side car to carry Heather while she rides in her wheelchair.
you can check my profile for a link to Heathers web site, also check up our ride videos and photos here on the CCC..
Ride safe
- 4 months ago
- Views: 170
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For my favorite little old lad
- From: Hiwayprisoner
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Description:
While I know this is usually where we write to give each other ideas and tips or just swap jokes and stories. I wanted to take a minute to tell you about a little gray haired woman that had won me over. She was in her 70's but her mind was as sharp or sharper than alot of 20 and 30 somethings out there. This was a woman who would sit and share a pot of coffee with me and we would try to solve the worlds problems while we sat at the dining room table. Her wit was as quick as many gifted jokesters and her recall was amazing. The only thing that saddened me was the fact that I hadn't known her earlier in my life where I could have learned so much more. When I had said something about wanting to buy another bike, she didn't do the "bikes are dangerous" bit. Instead she had gone out and bought a porcelain piggy bank in the shape of a pig with a leather jacket for me to save money in. As I began to add chrome and other things to the bike she would look from her wheelchair and give her approval. Over the last year her health began to deteriorate. Much faster than I ever thought she would. And like alot of us, it took a toll on her. In my heart I want to believe that it was her body that gave out on her and that she didn't give up mentally. But I received a call tonight as I was parked in a parking lot of a Missouri truck stop that she has passed. As I sit here heartbroken about it I know there is nothing I can do. I try to reason that she no longer hurts but it's the family that now hurts. Most people aren't as lucky as I am to have had a mother-in-law that was also a friend. She was never one for the " I love you" type of stuff. I guess that's why as I sit here crying over her it's because I never told her that I did. Somehow I hope she knows. Belva, I pray that you're at peace, that you know you were loved and that I will miss you and that everytime I smell the new flowers of spring in the air as I ride that I will think of you. So for all my friends here that have been as lucky as I, enjoy and savor the moments you have with your loved ones. Mrs. Belva Snyder, thank you for treating me with the respect you always showed me. Thank you for letting me see a side that you didn't show many. Thank you for giving of your time to me when you could have easily been doing something else. Thank you for letting me be able to sit and watch as you and your daughter were in the kitchen and made each other crazy but still could show that you loved each other. And most importantly, thank you for the pots of coffee we shared and listening and sharing things with me those early mornings when I came in off the road. You will never know the impact you had on me, but I know that I will feel it for years to come. For all my friends here, thank you for letting me get this off my chest. To all, God bless and if you could, say a little prayer for my favorite little old lady.
- Blog post
- 5 months ago
- Views: 187
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HeathersWheels.com
- From: simmbad
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Description:
What is, who is HeatherWheels.com
Heather is the love of my life. When she was just becoming teenager she was in a car accident. She bruised her spinal cord and she was left without the uses of her arms or legs, she has what is known as Quadriplegia.
This does not make her disabled, she has a Masters Degree, she tutors, she bowls (141 average), she runs a web business, she travels the world, and she rides a motorcycle.
I have always been into motorcycles, and starting at young age, I rebuilt my first bike a Kawasaki F4 250 dirt bike. And over the years I have had a lot of bikes.
In 1997 Heather came into my life and I parked my 94 Kanata 750 for good. I had felt guilty about not being able to share this part of my life with her, and I decided to give it up.
But over the years I started talking about building another bike more for the project then for riding. But Heather decided to take me to the Yamaha dealer and show me the bikes they had. I did not know it but she had put one on hold for me.
I really loved ridding, but I started to feel guilty again, and so I started talking about building something for Heather to ride in with me.
We bought a 2005 Ural Tourist with a sidecar, we sold the sidecar tub, and with some help from a few friends, we modified the sidecar so Heather could stay in her wheelchair and ride with me.
Heather loves ridding as much as I do and so she started selling items her web site to help support her ridding habit.
This year we plan to do a few over night rides. Our goal is to travel the world and see as much as we can from the Motorcycle one mile at a time.
- Blog post
- 8 months ago
- Views: 285
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Disabled people lookout!
- From: als1953
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Description:
Does the first symbol on this liner mean "Wheelchair" or "Disabled"? If so, do the other 3 symbols mean it's had three direct hits?
- 10 months ago
- Views: 120
- Not yet rated
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simmbad
- Platinum - Country Rider
- Points:9196
- Views: 4255
- Since: 1 year ago
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Killer Krash - Bee that is...
- From: Kevin5133
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Description:
My name is Kevin, Killer Bee. My bike is also the Killer Bee. Here is a bit of history, my 2005 accident only miles from my home...
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
I left my house minutes after 6 PM. I had made a few calls to members of the riding club for a last minute ride with no luck. I had just called Chris, my Second Officer, to see if he wanted to meet me in Hamburg for a ride. I was in the planning stages of a back-roads ride for our club that would include two of the remaining covered bridges in Berks County and end at an ice cream parlor in the Oley area. Tragically my ride was over at 6:10 PM.
As I road on Rt. 897 I was only doing about 30 mph in a slightly downhill long left bend approaching the Reinhold’s ambulance service where I saw a red SUV stopped at the stop sign just ahead on the right. Seconds before I reached there it pulled out in front of me to make a left turn and stopped midway across the road either from finally seeing me or hearing my brakes squeal, I’m not sure which. When I saw it pull out I instinctively turned slightly left at the same time locking both brakes because of how close it was to me. The bike was now skidding on both wheels and with the right side facing the SUV. As the bike slowed the tires grabbed and flipped me and the bike on to our right side (high side crash for those in the know). I remember hitting my right shoulder and having my helmeted head bounce once off the asphalt.
Next thing I realized I was sitting on the road a few feet from the SUV driven by an elderly woman, supported by my left arm with my right arm cradled in my lap and severe pain in my right foot and right shoulder. Later I figured out my right foot must have caught part of the bike on departure tearing the right knee also. I sat rocking and moaning for a long minute while being unsuccessfully consoled by the SUV driver and bystanders. My bike lay behind me on its right side silent. Luckily this happened right in front of the ambulance station and help was on the way. Information was exchanged between me and police, EMTS, and those helping at the scene. My shirt and right pant leg was cut from me as they continued their assessment. I quickly reminded them that the boots zip off in fear they would begin to cut them also. Upon removal of my sock the EMT asked if my toes normally looked like that. “No”, I replied staring at my first two toes pointing back at me, “that’s not normal”. I was forced into a neck brace per procedure putting more stress on my already aching shoulder and eventually shuttled off in the ambulance to the Reading hospital. Thanks to PADOT for making my trip to the hospital more like a safari.
After being admitted to the ER by the ambulance service I was assessed by the ER doctor and my mother-in-law and my few abrasions were cleaned while an IV was put in my hand. While I waited my turn for the X-ray room the ER doctor decided to try to “straighten” my big and second toe. These are the ones with the tips facing back at me. A few agonizing shots of Novocain into the base of the toes and five minutes later we were ready. “OK, I’m going to pull on this now. Ready?” The pop of my second toe could be heard even above my bellowed groans. The big toe was done later with no success. My wife arrived in the ER and I was able to relay my experience thus far. I proceeded to have multiple x-rays done of my neck, spine, foot, knee and shoulder. Always painful no matter how hard they try to be careful. Only after they were sure I had no neck injuries was I allowed to strip off the neck brace. Chris, my SO, soon arrived to give me more moral support.
I was wheeled out of the ER and sent home about 10 PM with my wife and SO by my side. Just getting into my house was extremely painful. Shuffling on my one good leg; leaning on my father and having to put pressure on a fractured foot and torn knee to get anywhere. Barely holding it together with a shot of morphine, a couple painkillers in an envelope and an OR shoe Velcroed to my fractured foot I started my first restless night of many. The medication wasn’t enough to keep me asleep and I got only blocks of ½ hour to an hour through the night. I wasn’t looking forward to the 6 AM alarm to go back to the hospital to see the orthopedic surgeon.
Final outcome:
Me - I had a surgery on my big toe (second was only dislocated) and had a removable pin put in it while it healed. My knee was in a brace for weeks. Then came the knee surgery. Torn ACL (inside tendon) and torn meniscus (knee cap). I was in a cast knee to toes for 5 weeks. Because my shoulder was separated, it was inoperable and had to heal as is, keeping me in a wheelchair and unable to use crutches. I was off work for almost 6 full months but was able to return to my riding in April when my bike was finally finished. The above picture is me and my riding club, Southern Cruisers, when they had a ice cream run to my house. The called it the Ice Cream Run to the Bee Hive!
My bike - The Bee (my 1997 Shadow Spirit 1100) only suffered minor damage because of the slow speed. I had to replace the grips, mirrors, shield, pipes and tank which were all scraped up. Plus the bars, right side pegs, brake pedal and lever which were trashed. Total damages were about $1500 to the bike and most was covered by my insurance. I also added 50 watt front driving lights to help people see me. The good thing was the opportunity to have the bike painted by a friend and fellow member of our club during recovery. Today the Bee is a real head turner, and I don’t look too bad either.
Lessons learned:
Never think they see you… they don’t!
Do what ever you can to help them see you!
Always be ready for them to do the unexpected!
Practice safe riding until you do it on instinct!
- Blog post
- 1 year ago
- Views: 964