High Flight - Part One of Many

Flying is an unfulfilled passion for me. Not commercial jet flying – certainly not any more. It used to be fun; these days the intrusive paranoia that envelopes any trip to an airport has destroyed the last bit of enjoyment. And that was back in the good old days last week when you could still take a bottle of water or a Chapstick on board.

No, I’m talking about flying in a small plane. The thrill of rolling down the runway, bouncing gently on three tires, steering with your feet, watching the needles swing round the instrument faces until takeoff speed is reached, pulling back slowly on the yoke, and suddenly, effortlessly…you are flying. The earth drops away. You bank left, holding the yolk back slightly, stepping on the rudder, seeking a perfectly coordinated turn.

It’s been years since I soloed, way back when BWI Thurgood Marshall Airport was still Friendship Airport, and Piper Cherokees shared approach control with 747s. That day is as clear as the sunlit afternoon a year ago when I sat strapped into a T-6 Texan turning loops over Warrenton, Virginia.

Hangar flying is what I do these days. Financial realities don’t allow for a hobby with a price tag that might give Warren Buffet pause. But having the memories, I can feel myself at the controls of a little Cessna, light and flirty as a dragonfly. I can even imagine flying with the Blue Angels or the Thunderbirds, flinging myself and my machine around the sky in formation, screaming along feet above the ground and then soaring straight up, back home to the blue ocean sky.

All this is to point you to a flying blog – one of several that I’ve found and enjoyed. It is, appropriately enough, called Hangar View. Check out the wonderful photos from Oshkosh, the annual roundup of flying enthusiasts and their beloved machines.

Happy landings!