ARC MAGAZINE

Karen Spencer and Jean Moriki can tell you first-hand how an unreliable wheelchair can adversely impact quality of life.

“I was always worried,” Spencer says. “I had to accept there were places I couldn’t go because of my wheelchair.”

Moriki puts it another way: “My wheelchair acts as my legs. If it doesn’t work, I can’t get around.”

Each woman has used a wheelchair for years – Moriki since suffering a stroke in 1995 and Spencer after being diagnosed with post-polio syndrome in 2003. They relate stories about stressful, frustrating and ultimately unproductive conversations with insurance providers when requesting new chairs. Both believed they would just have to live with undependable chairs.

Sometimes, though, a person who’s willing to do whatever it takes to help complete strangers is around the corner. Moriki, Spencer and hundreds of other wheelchair-dependent people have benefited from such a person.

Lance Greathouse operates Wheelchair Labs, a nonprofit group of volunteers in Phoenix, Arizona, that has one objective: refurbish and repair donated and discarded wheelchairs and scooters and bequeath them to people in need.

No payment is ever requested or accepted, although the work is costly. The average cost of a repair job is between $600 and $700. Wheelchair Labs receives funding from grants and individual donations, and volunteers make their own contributions. Wheelchairs and scooters come from different sources, including relatives of deceased family members or thrift stores that sell to Wheelchair Labs at a reduced price.

Many recipients connect with Greathouse through friends who have also benefited from his work, while others through advocacy organizations in the Phoenix area. However the connection is made, the answer is always yes.

Greathouse estimates that he has gifted nearly 200 wheelchairs and scooters during the past decade. His workshop is filled with units that await the funds to be repaired and gifted. When one is ready, it usually doesn’t sit in the shop for long. About two years ago, Christine Woods thought she was going to a meeting with Greathouse to get acquainted and discuss her wheelchair. Almost immediately, he shocked her by offering her a newly refurbished chair. “When I realized he was serious, I started to cry,” Woods notes.

Keeping up with demand is a struggle, Greathouse admits, especially since the work is done on his own time (he works full-time as a dental technician). What’s not a struggle is the work itself. “It’s a joy to do something that is so important for a person,” he points out.

Greathouse, 56, a Phoenix native, has been involved in metal fabrication almost his entire life. Asthma kept him on the sidelines as a child. So while his friends were outside engaging in athletic pursuits, Greathouse was often in his father’s workshop watching him fabricate custom cars and sand buggies from the ground up.

“I knew at an early age how to build things,” Greathouse says. “My dad told me that I could build anything with my hands that my mind could come up with.”

As he grew older, metal artistry was never far from his mind. He started out building custom cars but switched to robots, which opened a new world for him. While touring Shepperton Design Studios (where droids and other Star Wars replica machines are built) in England in the 1990s, Greathouse discovered what he thought was his life’s calling: designing and building special effects for movies. “When I saw the cool stuff they were building, my life changed,” he says.

Some of his first steps in that direction were in TV. He designed machines for Robot Wars and BattleBots, competed in Robot Wars: Extreme Warriors, and served as a technical consultant for Junkyard Wars. He also built giant robots and fire machines for Burning Man, the annual art and community festival held in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. In 2013, Greathouse was the grand prize winner of the Road to Maker Faire Challenge, a contest to encourage makers to enter DIY projects for exhibition at Maker Faire Bay Area.

Aside from fabrication, Greathouse also considers himself an inventor. He accepts custom orders from people and will endeavor to create a wheelchair that fits the personality of its user. Among his creations are wheelchairs that shoot flames and golf balls, one that enables the user to cut grass, and another equipped with an automatic fishing caster. Other wheelchairs have internet capability, mounted cameras and stereo systems.

He understands that a wheelchair can impact perception of the user, and can even serve as a means of self-expression. His brother, Brent, died in 2004 from multiple system atrophy, a Parkinson’slike disease. Brent spent his last years in a wheelchair. At first, it was a plain-looking, utilitarian unit, and Greathouse believed it led people to feel sorry for his brother. He decided to customize a wheelchair that would leave onlookers feeling awe, not pity. The result was an off-road chair outfitted with an old Lockheed C5 Galaxy aircraft seat. Suddenly, the conversation revolved around the wheelchair, not Brent’s condition, Greathouse says.

After Brent’s death, Greathouse reevaluated his priorities. “Before my brother passed away, I was into wild machines, building 1,000-pound robots that shoot fire,” he recalls. “After he died, I decided to focus less on out-of-the ordinary stuff and more on helping to make people’s lives better.”

With that simple mission in mind, Greathouse and his wife, Janis, created Wheelchair Labs. Initially, the organization gifted wheelchairs and scooters to disabled veterans. But as word began to spread, Wheelchair Labs expanded its scope to include anyone who is mobility-impaired.

Even with his full-time job and other demands on his time, Greathouse often finds a way to work around clients’ schedules. Ed and Diana Willoughby were recipients of Greathouse’s work — a scooter for him and wheelchair for her. When repairs are needed, Greathouse travels to the Willoughby residence. “It’s always on his time,” Ed stresses.

By providing fully functioning, reliable wheelchairs and scooters, Greathouse gives people the chance to enjoy an improved quality of life and a better chance to move freely within the community to gain better access to jobs, resources, education, medical appointments and basic needs.

“You’re limited only by your imagination. The fun comes from turning an extraordinary idea into a design.”
- Lance Greathouse

Jean Moriki’s wheelchair gives her a sense of independence she didn’t have before meeting Greathouse. There is less stress in her life because she knows she has a dependable chair. And repairs, if needed, are a phone call away.

For Christine Woods, it’s the opportunity to watch her young daughter play in the park. “Before Lance, I had no life,” she maintains. “Now, I am mobile.”

Karen Spencer’s chair, designed for rough terrain, allows her to enjoy her favorite activity, nature hikes. “Before, I dared not leave the parking lot,” she points out. “I would go, sit and look at the trails. My chair gives me the confidence to go out on those trails. I know I can get over rocks and other bumps without a problem.”

Eventually, Greathouse would like to turn Wheelchair Labs into a full-time job. For now, he’s content to accomplish the work in his spare time. All that matters is making a difference in the lives of as many people as possible.

“It’s rewarding to know you’re changing a person’s life,” Greathouse says. “That feels pretty good.”

Wheelchair Labs, a program of Southwest Community Network, a 501(c)3 nonprofit-based organization, accepts monetary and material donations. For more information, go to www.wheelchairlabs.org or email info@wheelchairlabs.org