You'll experience some discomfort, then you'll have the
Ah-ha
Alan Hardy
Climbing out of bed at
5:30am on Saturday isn't on my fun list. After a full week at work, when my
body aches for rest, its just plain uncomfortable. So I might have been a little
– OK, a lot, grumpy when Roy rousted me to help cook for the monthly EAA 105
pancake breakfast. Roy reminded me
that if we wanted our choice of jobs, we had to get there early. I'm not
cooking bacon, I declared. If I get that job, I'm coming home. My ride was his
plane so I had no idea how I'd actually get home, but my sleepy brain insisted on voicing objection somehow.
Moisture soaked
through my tennis shoes, as we trundled across damp grass from the plane to the
hangar at Twin Oaks. I hate wet socks. And now I'd have to stand in them all
morning. The hanger bustled with industriousness, under a bright yellow glow. I
felt like I needed sunglasses. I snatched up the nametag for Pancake Maker. It
was the perfect job. All I had to do was make pancake batter. I wouldn't have
to talk to anyone.
A couple bowls of
batter later, the hangar was full of bacon smells and conversation and
laughter. I was still not awake, and my soggy feet were cold. My friend Benton
stopped at my workstation to visit. I uttered something intended to
sound cheerful. It sounded more like a growl. He smiled and nodded, and
asked how I've been and if we've been flying. I pointed out the window to 174RT.
Benton has an Aeronca Champ. He said its not a sports car like Roy's plane. It's cruise speed is more like 80knts. I flashed back to a biplane flight a few
years ago, wind in my hair, earth above or sky below. I love low, slow flight,
I say. Benton brightens, and despite my sleepiness and wet socks, I do too. He
asks if I'd like to go for a flight in a Champ. His plane is not flying, but
his friend Dave has one, and he'd take me for a flight if I asked. Sure, I say,
feeling a wave of shyness. I don't think I could just walk up to someone I
don't know and request a flight in their plane. Sure, I say, maybe sometime.
By the time my shift
is over, I looked like pancake batter attacked me. It was it in my hair,
crusted on my arms, and on my shoes. I wanted to go home, shower and nap. Instead, I stepped in line with Roy,
and tried to make my cheeks do something that looked like smiling. A tall
fellow in a red Stanford sweatshirt motioned me over. I hear you'd like to go
for a ride in a Champ, he says, saving me from stumbling over my shyness.
Uh, sure, but I'm a bit
grimy today, I replied showing him my pancake battered arms. He smiled. No
problem, he says, just meet me out by the plane when you're done with
breakfast.
I finished up my
coffee and grits and found Dave standing by a little yellow tail-dragger. It was
adorable. Roy stood by, arms folded across his chest, grinning as I slid in to
the rear seat. My cheeks did not have to work hard to smile back.
We taxied out and whoosh,
popped off the runway, over the trees, ponds, llamas and greenhouses, up in to the
glorious cloud scattered sky. I felt my breath slow, and I slid back in the
seat to enjoy the scenery. Then the back of Dave’s head said, OK, its all
yours! What?! Suddenly I'm awake, a wash of adrenaline thumping in the back of
my throat. You can fly the plane, he repeated, can your feet reach the pedals?
Pedals? Uhhh, no, I
stammered, I can't. For a moment I thought I was off the hook.
Here, I'll slide them
back for you. Dave tapped the toes of my soggy, batter stained shoes.
The plane did a quick
little jog side to side as I settled my feet. I wiggled the stick to get a feel
for how the plane responded. The adrenaline turned to a rush of excitement. I'm
turning to starboard, I tell the back of Dave's head. I banked the plane, and
spring green field floated by below. This must be what birds feel like. I
leveled off, and floated past clouds. Ahhh, my brain says, finally releasing
its frown. I felt a smile spread across my face. The light came on in my head,
like midday sun breaking out from the clouds. Sometimes we experience
discomfort. We get up early, wrestle with pancake batter, reach beyond our
shyness. Then there is the Ah-ha. It’s about pancakes and friends and the
simple joy of low, slow flight.
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| Sandy and Dave, just back from flying in the Champ |
