LET'S play a game: What am I? I’m a mere 26 inches wide, made of a combination of titanium and flesh. What on earth could I be?

Well, here are some more clues. I’m 6ft and also 3ft. The latest Hollywood Terminator? No, if only.

In fact, I am... a wheelchair user. So why am I highlighting being 26 inches wide?

Because of something called The Wheelchair Pavement Fear.

You, the general public, seem to see me as a bulldozer, a disgruntled man with four wheels and heels to clip.

But I’m not. All I’m trying to do is get from A to B without standing out (pardon the pun) from the crowd.

Yes, my ‘svelte’ figure is no more and yes, I have gained a few kilos, but surely not a few tonnes?

Daily as I wheel around the city, people dive into the road and pin themselves against walls. But really there’s no need! All it does is alert others to my disability and reinforce the feeling that I’m different.

By needing to use a wheelchair I stand out and yes, let me assure you, it has taken time to adjust to the longing stares and ‘I wonder what happened to him?’ faces.

But what would be wonderful, really wonderful, would be to not feel like a public spectacle but rather enjoy the freedom of just being able to blend in.

Of course, I appreciate that this behaviour is well meant – that people just want to make space and not hinder me on my journey.

But let’s turn the tables for a moment. I own a car. I know exactly how wide my car is, and just like most other drivers, reverse parking and crowded East Oxford streets are no problem for me.

The same is true of my wheelchair. I know exactly how wide I am. I can negotiate all street furniture, you name it, I never hit it. Yet for some reason the general public seem to be a harder obstacle to negotiate.

I simply don’t understand why the sight of me instils such a response into normally sane and rational people?

My stealthy approach behind people might surprise them, sure, but those who see me coming face to face, what’s your excuse?

After all, I can’t imagine there are a great many people who have had a scarring childhood experience with an AWOL wheelchair user.

Frankly, it baffles me but hopefully the message is simple: Give us space but trust that we’re not out to mindlessly barge our way through in some vengeful attack on all you walkers.

You, the general public, are great and I truly appreciate that, but being able-bodied it’s doubtless hard to understand and appreciate how something as simple can make such a difference.

So next time you see a wheelchair approaching, take a step to the side and, as the saying goes, keep calm and carry on...