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CONTINUE I TAKE ME TO THE TRIKE BUILDER 

THE BLOODY PARAPLEGIC          

MY TRIKE STORY

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by John (wheels) DwyerOCTOBER 2001 - SEPTEMBER 2007

Saying and Skull with thanks to anonymous !                                                                    U      

AT THE AGE of 16 I broke my back which left me paralysed from the chest down. A bloody t3 complete PARAPLEGIC. Five years later I tipped a car over which led to me having my right leg amputated. An AMPUTEE as well !!.  They cut me in half actually, right through the pelvis, just to save my life. They didn't do me any favors that month.   

Click to SKIP the personal stuff and get to the ride on the trike OR click to SKIP the story and get to the trike.

I quit school at 15 and went to work in a menswear store where I got to wear lots of nice clothes. Must admit I miss the nice crease down the trousers. Other Para's will relate to that. After my prang I worked as a sign-writer for the same store. During this time I was involved in getting professional drag racing underway in Western Australia and raced my own car but I tipped it upside down which had me in and out of hospital until they found an infection in my hip and had to cut my right leg off at the belly button.

Paralympics - Heidelberg 1972.

During 'the in and out of hospital' period I took up Archery and after the leg went, I represented Australia at the Paralympics in Heidelberg Germany in 1972. Soon after I got back I married my first wife April and started work as a morning announcer at a commercial radio station an hour out of Perth in Northam - Western Australia. A job which lasted for 15 years. During this time April and I went in separate directions and had an amicable divorce. A bit later I broke my leg and met my current wife Alana while in Hospital.

Although estranged we still stay in touch and enjoy going to nice restaurants. Something we didn't do enough of while living together. I am residing at the Quadriplegic Centre in Shenton Park - Perth - WA because I still can't handle the so called 'Real World' yet.

I have two step-kids but I am not as close to them as I would like to be. My fault there. I have a Mum who is 85, two sisters a brother and a heap of nieces and nephews who I don't see anywhere near as much as I should. Again my fault. Not to mention Cousins (one very special one) who I don't see enough of. My fault here as well.

Dad passed away at age 61 due to Cancer. He was one of those 'nice' blokes that should have lived to be 100. But life is a bitch like that.

I took up pistol shooting along with building and flying radio controlled model aircraft while in Northam and Alana and I also bought our first and second ski/fun boats. I also moonlighted as a DJ at weddings and parties and everywhere else anyone wanted some music and someone to talk crap over the microphone.

I retired but then started the 'Mandurah' period' and we ran a Water Ski and Parasailing business and sold a few boats as well. Because the boat thing was mainly during summer I went back to doing some DJ work in the off season but that lead to more DJ's and a PA Sound hire and sales business, so I sold the boat stuff. 

    Then one morning I couldn't do it any more so here I am. Stuffed.

  September 19th 2001 is etched in the memory.

I am now 56 and have been forced to sell the business and 'retire' because my arms/shoulders are wearing out and I am just plain tired both physically and mentally.  (STOP PRESS 60 as of Oct 1 2006)

Suicide - Call me weak if you like but you haven't walked in my shoes if you will pardon the pun.

I say 'tired' because that's what I was early on the morning of the 19th September 2001 when I had a job on but no one to help do it. The bastard who was supposed to do it rang the night before to let me know he wasn't going to turn up so I was left in the lurch by someone I had trusted. Again !!......I got up at 5am and decided that I had just plain had enough so I took a hose from the vacuum cleaner and a bit of gaffa tape and calmly went and stuck the hose on the exhaust of one of the cars in the open garage - a late model station wagon -  and shoved the other end into the car.

I then went inside and got a cup of coffee and took it back to the car. Got in and turned the music on and then turned the car on. I felt great and everything was kind of surreal but I wasn't dying - just getting really hot and sweaty. I can remember trying to suck the fumes in so I could get it all over and done. Four hours later someone turned up and rang for an ambulance and they rushed me into Hospital where they stuck me in a diving decompression thing. Fortunately I didn't have any long term problems as one of the concerns I have about suicide is some idiot saving me in the middle of my brain bursting, and leaving me with real problems.

Anyway the reason I didn't die in the car was because - as I found out later - after 1996 they have catalytic converters on the things and there isn't enough carbon dioxide to snuff you out.  If I had picked my 1974 XB Ford Coupe they reckon I would have lasted 15 minutes. Next time.

Alternatively try GHB (Gamma Hydroxy Butyrate Acid) and a bottle of whisky and you shouldn't have a problem.

While in the Psychiatric hospital Ding Bob whom I have known for over 40 years turned up and suggested that I should invest in a Trike to take my mind off things.

Broke my back in 1962.

I broke my back during a push bike race (should never have given up Australia rules football) and Bob was close behind when it happened. Some prick parked his car in front of us to stop his dog jumping about and with head down and bum up, I ran into it. The car that is. Nothing happened to the guy because our Lawyer stuffed up so I didn't get a penny and have had to work all my life. I look forward to catching up with them in hell. The prick and the Lawyer that is. I forgive the dog. 

An early photo of Ding Bob on bike with me on wheelchair outrigger!!. Seriously you don't know how old you are feeling until you look back on memories. The 60's was a very good year - apart from one bitch of a day that has lasted over 40 years.

Bob was pretty much always there during my so called rehabilitation and although he has never said it I believe it is one of the reasons he took to building trikes for people with the odd disability / handicap and why he takes so much time making sure that they work properly. A lot of unpaid extra time (and worry) goes into these "one off" specials.

Bob wanted me to get a trike long before someone else's God decided I had to retire, but while remaining friends our interests had drifted apart over the years. I have had fast cars, boats and other interests but now I needed something to keep me motivated. So I gave the Trike idea some thought.

The 'Mandurah water-sports hire'  period. Happy times in the main.

 Boat is a 21' Connelly Craft with a Johnson 3.6GT 300hp V8 Two stroke Outboard Motor. Would go well in a Trike ! Eight carbies to tune!!

My main means of transport as we start this story is a 1974 Ford Coupe. I bought it new for $5999.00. It has a 351cu inch Cleveland V8 in it (would go well in a Trike) with a few extra bits and goes quite nicely thank you. Problem is I can't afford to start it.

So here I am talking to Bob about the Trike during a drink and dream session. (booze and bullshit) "I'll have one with a V8" I suggested around the second hour. And a few drinks later. "If I can't have that I want a worked Harley motor". After a  few more drinks we were dribbling about a VW motor.

Sometime during the next hour I was convinced that a VW is nearly a Porsche - right!. Now you have to realize that Ding Bob and I don't mind a bit of  horsepower usually in V8 form (there was the time when Bob was driving my dads Customline down the freeway - that's another story) but as we were solving the problems of the world we began to discuss the ever present problem of how to make a trike rideable.

This was fairly important given that my balance was pretty poor. I even manage to fall out of my wheelchair at times, not to mention the car. 

Having this to think about during my next day hangover, I decided that I should take a ride on the back of Bob's VW Demo trike. Getting on was fun because Bob's knees aren't all that good and he brought along The Bandit another Trike owner, who has one arm missing, to help lift me into the back seat. 

Well we made it with much grunting and swearing and off we went. Me with my black helmet and Poncho and a mean look on  my face. For the next four hours we were gawked at, girls begged us for a ride and guys gave us the thumbs up, and all because I had that mean bikie (Oops Sorry - Biker/Triker) look on my face. 

The thing was really comfortable and safe in the back seat and even though my balance is ratshit I was able to sit there like a sack of spuds with my hands in my pockets and my left foot planted somewhere while we cruised down the coast and into the city popping the odd wheelie. We got back four hours later.

So I was sold. It was to be a VW engined trike (which is nearly a Porsche - Right!) and as it was pointed out, if it ever broke down I could call in the RAC to fix it on the side of the road.

The next problem was whether I could drive/steer the thing to the point where I could get a bike/trike license. (required in WA). We knew we could get the trike licensed because Bob has had so many go through.

We still had the VW single rear seater Demo trike available but as my legs didn't work and to make things even worse, my right one wasn't there anyway, the question of how I was going to stop the thing given that the brake was foot operated and on the right side, came up. We had the front brake on the bar but that wasn't going to do the whole stopping thing. So while I was pondering Bob grabbed a length of steel bar and a bit of hollow steel and welded the two pieces together. The hollow bit fitted over the brake and he could push the pedal from the back seat/lounge. Problem fixed.

Pics below were taken 14 December 2001

CONTINUE I TAKE ME TO THE TRIKE BUILDER 

MY BIKE RINGS I MY TRIKE RINGS