Snow Wheels

In addition to witnessing those in trouble, despair, or angst, I once helped a woman with a walker through the tough sleet that crashed into Chicago not too long ago. The predominance of the accounts shown on this blog are merely journalistic entries set forth from a single individual seen in public, albeit most are drawn from experiences on the CTA. That being said, an occurrence sprung into play not on the CTA but on the street: a beggar who has lost the ability in his legs was strolling in his wheelchair up next to the vehicle lanes, parallel to the recently installed bicycle pathways along the municipal road. Hunkered down by heavy winter clothing and a small blanket on his lap, the failed human placed all of his strength into the wheels and with enough endurance to also smoke a cigarette while doing so. He soon stopped a few pedestrians here and there for possible inquiries on loose currency or any show of a Good Samaritan to walk into a sandwich shop and purchase a cold cut for Snow Wheels. While I didn't necessarily hear the conversations on the street, it felt justifiable to assume the mundane: "'scuse me, but would ya happen to have any spare change for the homeless?"
I named him Snow Wheels because fuck it, I don't know his name. Perhaps Bruce, another beggar I've acquainted myself with in the downtown area. But it probably wasn't Bruce. Bruce didn't have wheels.