Friday, July 25, 2008
Flashback Friday: Flying the friendly skies
A significant part of my childhood was spent at local airports. My dad is a pilot and we had an airplane when I was growing up, as did my grandpa and uncle. I remember going to the hangar where we kept our plane in Price and visiting with the lovely woman who ran the airport, Ardith. She would give me a Salted Nut Roll while I would "help" my dad do important plane maintenance or accompany him for a scenic ride.
One of my grandfather's planes was used for the US Dept. of Agriculture to spot animal predators that would harm farmers' livestock. On this plane he had a machine attached to the wing that would shoot out long, kite-like flags that were used to mark where certain animals were spotted.
When we would get into town, he would always buzz over our house to let us know he was there, often flying about a telephone pole's height off the ground, waving at us and then shooting flags out for us to chase. Sometimes he would fly over our friends' houses as well if we were playing there outside, needless to say, making my brother, sister and I the coolest kids in the neighborhood, er, rural subdivision.
Growing up, I assumed I would eventually have a pilots' license and airplane as well. That was before I learned how hard it is for me to just park my car [see: large dent and scratch to the driver's side door of the Explorer].