The summer before Lewy began to appear on a regular basis, Dad had moved in with Sweetie K (my daughter) and I.Lewy pretty much stayed away until night so our biggest concern was the falling and Dads loss of direction. He had sold his car before moving in with us, replacing it with a shiny red motorized scooter. He loved it, but would only go out if someone came with him. Early on he got himself well and truly lost. He took a wrong turn and needed help to get home. Fortunately there was enough charge in the battery, but I think it scared him.
He was a speed demon, he refused to believe that the little turtle on the knob was comfortable walking speed, so evening walks became a challenge. I’d set the speed control to turtle, and we’d begin. We took the dog with us, and when I’d stop to pick up doggie deposits, I’d see him reach over and surreptitiously turn the knob to rabbit. He’d then take off, bouncing over the cracks in the sidewalk, white hair streaming in the breeze, with me and the schnauzer running behind!
Slow down! I’d say, reaching over and turning the speed control knob. He’d agree, but then as The walk continued and I began to lag behind, I’d discover the knob turned back over to rabbit. Id have to watch hom like a hawk to keep his hands off of that darn knob. And was he tricky! I’d turn it to turtle, he’d wait until I was distracted and he’d turn it to rabbit. So much for a gentle evening stroll. They turned into a test of wills. When we got home he’d complain about how rough the scooter was and how it hurt his back. I’d suggest that slowing down might make the ride a little more smoother, but the next evening, I’d watch in frustration as he sped away from me. Was that a guffaw I heard?