"After running alongside, catching a wingtip, and proudly helping the pilot push off, I was anxious to know how in the world he got this far on such a weak day, but first extended a smiling hand, 'Hi, I’m Dale.' That’s when he chose to remove his parachute, staring beyond my ear for signs of human activity at our little terminal building. Crickets, as they say."
Read MoreI got bored and worked my feet down through those openings beside the aft pedals, so my legs were hanging straight into a coffin size space below the floorboards. This left no quick access to rudder control, revealing more about my judgment than any supposed trust in that particular front-seater. And worse, having committed the sin, it was impossible to get my feet back up…
Read MoreFirst time I soared from Crystal to Big Bear, the outbound leg went so quickly I never bothered to look down, so on the way home I stopped, determined to go no further until identifying Hesperia airport. I loitered over the wide city bleeding altitude, scanning everywhere left and right more than once, and could find no open spaces even big enough for an airport.
Read MoreOne November evening I was standing out front of the empty lodge on the flat below those cliffs and heard a sudden boom that sounded like a shotgun..
Read MoreTibor flew from our field for several years and always displayed the most abysmal judgment, consistently landing his Cessna like a glider, but his glider like a Cessna. He once stalled in so high and so short that his tailwheel fell off from the impact….
Read MoreOn a rare solo cross-country, I was soaring the well-known shearline north from Mojave up the Sierras. Lift that day was consistent but not high enough to form clouds, so I straddled every ridge, gathering energy from both sides of the crest, with few stops to climb.
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