After weighing all the variables the John Wayne in Jim bubbled to the top and he made another decision. He wanted to fly F105’s. The “Thud” was famously the only U.S. aircraft to be removed from combat due to high loss rates.
The scent of a cockpit tainted with leather and oil and sweat might never have been as irresistible to me as that of a freshly baked loaf of mom’s homemade bread. And, let’s face it, life would have been pretty boring.
I intend to stay happy even though I will likely never have five aircraft at once. Fortunately for me, my inability to say “no” to anything to do with airplanes or their pilots continues to add to my bag of aviation memories despite that short coming.
It has always boggled my mind. The fact that World War II bombing raids sometimes consisted of upwards of 1000 heavy bombers at a time is just too much for me to comprehend. Imagine the sound of 4000 Wright Cyclones parting the wind overhead all at once! What an impression it must have made to those on the ground when these waves of aluminum passed overhead.
Geese float past overhead in wedges and beg for me to come up and fly with them. I am envious. They get to see all the beautiful colors of fall float away beneath them knowing that they will soon be snug and safe in warmer climates.
Maybe I need my nose hairs to freeze during one more night by the fire. Some say a little nip of quality Bourbon by the fire as the sun goes down is good for you! Maybe the trees won’t be as red or yellow in the fall if I am not there. God forbid the trout should stop rising in the evening or the moon quit being so huge over the swamp or the stars so close on clear nights. What if the Grouse stop drumming in spring? If I’m not at the cabin and the rain bounces off the tin roof, does it make a sound?
“If the day was rainy or drizzly and too bad to fly something else, a joyous afternoon could be had by cranking up the old Champ to cruise the river for miles just enjoying the smell of the av gas and leather and dope and sweat that permeated the soul of that little airplane.”
“For years I have kept a small “tar paper shack” in the middle of nowhere up in the Superior country that is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.” . . . “Four wheel drive is highly recommended for getting to the place and it doesn’t even have an address. You know what they say, “Necessity is a mother.””