It’s Good Being Autistic Sometimes
We went on a bike ride today, I thought we’d try somewhere different, so I picked Croxteth Park. I don’t know Crocky very well, I’m more au fait with Sefton, so it was a bit of an exploration for both of us. It was a good chance for Buddy to ride off-road a little too, as he’s becoming more competent on two wheels, I thought I’d try him on some trails. We rode in loops for miles and then it happened. The rumble of thunder and a rainstorm, the heavens opened, rain, hail, wind. Buddy didn’t flinch, just kept riding, I asked him if he wanted his cap, as the hail was getting a bit stingy, he said “No I wanna feel it!” He pedalled on, beaming his massive smile, rode past glum-faced people sheltering under trees and any other shelter they could find, we hurtled on, he rode faster and faster in front of me, not having a clue where he was going, but somehow energised. I asked if he was ok, and he said “Dad this is the best bike ride of my life! I love the rain!”
He's always been like that, a feeler, he wants to feel the world. When we go to the beach in the winter he’ll say “Dad can I take my boots off, I need to feel the sand?” He loves riding the cycle path of an evening with a head torch on, searching for bats and jabberwockies, and has no fear of the darkness. He’s feral, climbs, explores, feels, witnesses nature somatically in all of its vagaries and turbulences. I love that he feels nature, that he seeks to feel the pulse of the planet.
When we came to the main building people were huddled in its doorways and alcoves, across from that there was a little van that sold doughnuts and sweets. We stopped to buy an outrageously priced marshmallow bear. The lady on the counter said to Buddy laughingly…
“You a little bit wet there mate?”
“Ye, I’m autistic you see.”
“Awww that’s ok.”
“It means I like the rain.”
“Does it?”
“Ye it must do, because look at all the other people hiding from it and not smiling, but I love it, I’m different from them.”
I looked about at the empty open spaces, and the people huddled next to the building, and I twigged his reasoning. He must have figured that, because we were the only ones who didn’t run from the storm, it was because he’s autistic. He’s slowly figuring out that some of his differences are because of his autism, but not sure which ones yet, so he’s trying to figure it out himself. I don't know if this is an autistic trait or not, I've never thought about it before. The girl (genuinely meaning well, rather than being patronising) said “Well you’re just the same as everyone else,” and smiled at him, at which point I joined in and said, “He’s not you know, he’s better,” she thought for a second and said, “You’re probably right mate.” And I was right, he’s the best.
After the ride we sat in the van, and he ate his pink marshmallow bear like a savage, then we wiped the rain off ourselves with an old work jumper that was in the cockpit. He said “Dad, that was one of the best days of my life, being autistic is good sometimes, thanks for taking me”. Manners too, the kid’s a diamond. I might keep him.
Ged Thompson