How are you? I hope you’re having a good day. Me? I’m tired. Tired of squeezing a 25kg wheelchair into a car boot through a six-inch space. Tired of soaking the backs of my legs against the front bumper of your wet and dirty car. Tired of trying to squeeze a big car into a tight space when I’m in a hurry to get inside and do physio, medications, feeds and nappy changes. Tired of having to leave three children under seven on their own in the house while I inch my car forward just so I can get something out of the boot. I don’t understand why you would park up so close behind anyone that they couldn’t open their boot – but the Motability car of a disabled child who uses a wheelchair?
I was so excited the day we picked it up. We’d struggled on until Benjamin was three and we could join the Motability Scheme. Commuting to the hospital 30 miles away by train, running around trying to get a Car Club car when he was suddenly taken ill at school. I couldn’t believe it when the council arrived to paint our disabled bay the very day the car arrived! It was like a good omen – how often does that kind of thing happen? The car has made our lives so much easier, and safer. But they could be easier still if you were a little less petty and proprietary.
Our car is nearly 5 m long – we need a big car to fit in our family and the wheelchair and all the medical equipment, feeds, plastics and pads. Our disabled bay is 6 m long. If you take up a few precious inches of it, it doesn’t leave much manoeuvring space, does it? I’m not the best at parking – if I didn’t need to use this space I would go up the road or round the block to a larger one, to save myself the daily stress. But I do need this space, so I can’t.
What do I need to do? I’ve tried joking with you. I’ve tried knocking on your door and asking you politely. I’ve tried pointing out the sticker in the window that says ‘Please leave space for my wheelchair.’ I’ve tried parking at the front of my space (you encroach further), at the back of my space (you park as close as you possibly can). Hell, you’ve even had two parking tickets!
I know I am the underdog here. You are a patron of the arts, supporter of local causes, general town VIP. I am a nobody, an incomer to the town, a young (okay maybe not so young) mother, a benefit-claimant. But does your status entitle you to make our lives harder? Does it give you the right to ignore the Highway Code? (Section 2 part 239 says: …do not stop too close to a vehicle displaying a Blue Badge: remember, the occupant may need more room to get in or out.)
We absolutely love where we live, and we are blessed to have friendly, kind, thoughtful neighbours – most of whom I now call friends. But I’m starting to dread going out of the front door and all the stresses it now entails. All I need is to be able to park my one car in the disabled bay designated for it, and open all the doors, so that I can get my child and his equipment safely from house to car and back again. You have three cars; a healthy daughter; two functional legs. Would it really hurt to walk an extra 15 yards to your car? Sometimes you even park right up to ours when there’s a space directly in front of your own house anyway!
I’m sure your life isn’t easy either. I try to live by the adage that everyone is fighting a battle I know nothing about. I just don’t understand why you persist in making our lives more difficult and dangerous. We’ve come so far in this country in terms of access and inclusion, laws and recommendations. But attitudes like yours are still a stumbling block. Please, cut us a break and give us some space.