A Central Florida university has its hand in a nationwide event — helping kids with limited mobility gain independence trough modified ride-on cars.

  • Go Baby Go! has a chapter at UCF in Orlando
  • Program helps kids with limited mobility gain independence

"He made us let him drive it to the car. He drove it all through the hotel, down the elevator," Ashley Carlson said, remembering when her son, Miles, picked up his first car. "It gives him that opportunity to move and have that mobility."

An accident at a day care when he was only a few months old led Miles Carlson to have seizures. Doctors later diagnosed the child with cerebral palsy.

"He's really smart, but he can't walk or transfer or do anything like that," Ashley Carlson said, who is a physical therapist. "You just kind of take it day by day. You try different treatments, you do therapy all the time."

So, when the Carlsons stumbled upon the Go Baby Go! program, they found hope for their son.

But fine-tuning the car takes time and patience, something a team at the University of Central Florida employs with each build.

"We're basically rewiring it," said Cami Osier, a doctoral student at UCF. "Definitely need my step-by-step instructions."

Osier has built eight cars so far, retooling Fisher Price toy cars so there are fewer buttons for disabled children so they can just — well — go.

"I'm not usually the most handy, but I've gotten better," she said.

So has Jennifer Tucker, the director of Go Baby Go!

"When you can't move, your opportunities to learn are restricted," Tucker said. "You're waiting for the world to come to you. So much of the world is not accessible, so this gives them that accessibility."

Tucker launched the UCF chapter of Go Baby Go! in 2015. Since, they've provided cars for dozens of children with disabilities — from Down syndrome to cerebral palsy.

After the rewiring is complete, the duo of Tucker and Osier fashion a safety belt out of Velcro and sidebars for support out of inexpensive PVC piping.

Meanwhile, the Carlsons are on their three-plus hour journey — driving from Estero to Orlando — so Miles can trade in his old car and pick up a new ride.

"We started realizing that his knees were hitting the wheel," his mother said.

Suddenly, the now 2-year-old boy is leaning on the steering wheel and guiding the car, the wheels spinning underneath him.

"More freedom. It gives him more independence. He feels like he's more typical," Ashley said of her son, watching him glide around the room and coo with delight.

It's a moment when the mother can leave the heavy burdens of medical appointments and therapy sessions behind, if even for a few minutes, and Miles can simply be a kid.

"We live it day by day, enjoying him with what he is now, because there's no wishing," she said. "This is what he is now and it's fine with us."