Customer Service - sponsored by W.C. Duke Associates, Inc.

Business Brings Accessible Vehicle Modifications, Repairs to Missoula

By Tyler Christensen
Missoulian News Online
http://www.missoulian.com/articles/2007/04/13/news/local/news02.txt

One morning in October 2005, James Horinek rose from the breakfast table and walked to the sink.

His feet felt like they were asleep, so he returned to the table and sat down. Soon, the numb feeling grew into a blunt pain, so he called 9-1-1. As the emergency crew lifted him to be carried to the ambulance, he felt two sharp pops.

“I had a shooting pain and five minutes later it felt like a ring traveling up my legs,” he explained.

It turns out one of Horinek's spinal discs had rubbed off a couple of splinters, and the lifting movement drove those splinters into an artery, cutting off the blood supply to Horinek's spinal cord and permanently paralyzing him from the waist down.

The medical term is called fibrocartilaginous embolization, and there have been only 30 reported cases in modern medical literature. The newly disabled, Horinek explained, often feel as though their world is closing in. Sometimes they lose their jobs, and their family and friends don't feel comfortable around them anymore. It's easy, he said, to start to feel “institutionalized.”

It takes a lot of effort to push the boundaries out again, he said, and regaining the ability to move around independently is a huge step in that direction.

“The day that I got to drive was like turning on a light switch,” Horinek said.

But for a while, he depended on his boss, Randy Botsford, to drive him to and from his job as a service manager at Montana Trucks & Forklift.

As Horinek attended physical therapy and learned to navigate the disability pay system, he also researched different products that would help him become independently mobile. He discovered that those who need their accessible vehicles modified or repaired have limited choices in western Montana. In fact, the nearest dealerships are in Spokane, Seattle and Denver.

It doesn't make any sense, Horinek said, for people to drive long distances in order to get their vehicles fixed.

He ended up outfitting his own off-road pickup himself, using his employer's equipment and facilities. It turned out so well, his physical therapists and others connected to Missoula's mobility-impaired community started sending their friends and clients to the company.

Before long, it was clear demand was not going to die down, and Botsford and Horinek realized they should either start turning people away or get serious about the business.

And so they formed Montana Mobility Products as a division of Montana Trucks & Forklift, both of which are housed in the same fully accessible building off Mullan Road. The new business acts as a distributorship for several different kinds of wheelchair vans and accessible vehicles, and also sells disability equipment ranging from hand controls to wheelchair locks. It is capable of modifying various equipment to fit the individual and will install and repair the equipment as needed.

While it won't be able to help every customer who rolls through the door, Botsford said, the business can save many the time and expense of a long drive to facilities in other states.

It's just the sort of thing that's been needed for years, said Amy Miller.

“I've had to go to Arizona, Seattle and Denver to buy the modified vehicles that I've had,” said Miller, who has been a quadriplegic for almost 16 years. Servicing these vehicles was a nightmare, she added.

Miller and her husband, Mike Marcinkowski, had talked about the need to provide vehicle-focused accessibility products in western Montana for years. They knew many others in Missoula were dealing with the same issues.

“Having a modified vehicle is the difference between being homebound and having a life out in the community,” she explained.

After meeting with Horinek and Botsford, Miller and Marcinkowski both became part-time salespeople for the company - though they don't view it as a typical sales job. The goal, Miller explained, is to connect people to the equipment they need.

There's truly a wealth of accessibility products out there, Horinek said. He spends a good portion of his time investigating them and thinking about how they might fit the needs of different customers.

Horinek's own Chevy Silverado is outfitted with a level-transfer machine and a wheelchair lift. He can open his driver's-side door, lift himself onto the seat, press a button that swings the arm of the lift over from the bed of the truck, hook the lift to the chair, and press another button that lifts the chair and swings it back into the bed of the truck. Another button closes the hinged fiberglass topper.

Montana Mobility Products starts by literally measuring the customer, Horinek said, to ensure the equipment and modifications are a good fit.

One person who came to them, Botsford said, had been sold a vehicle he couldn't even see out of. That van is still sitting in his yard while he fights for the money he needs to buy one he can actually use.

It's important to make a good match right off the bat, Horinek explained, because once disability pay is spent on a vehicle, it could be years before the person is eligible for more - regardless of whether the equipment is a poor fit or if it breaks down.

In fact, a large part of Horinek's job as general manager of this new enterprise is helping his customers navigate the disability pay system and helping them fight for the money they're entitled to, he said.

A lot of the folks who come to Montana Mobility Products are newly disabled, Botsford explained, and many are upset and confused. They are upset because they find themselves in a position nobody ever expects to be in, and they are confused because they don't know what it will take to put their lives back together again.

From his office next door, Botsford can hear Horinek promising people that it will get better, reassuring them that one day they will wake up in the morning and find themselves focused on life - not their disability.

Horinek's job, he said, has become more than a job. It's now a mission.