Flying In A Byplane

wpid-wp-1417365717594.jpegI took my first Biplane ride at DeKalb Airport. It was a wonderful sunny day and I stood in line to take my turn to ride in the Biplane. The pilot dressed as a pioneer pilot and it was so exciting. It was an half hour flight around the airport. At first I was scared but I got used to the flight. After a few minutes I got used to the flight and was so excited that I didn’t want to get off after the flight was over. I felt just like Vicky must of felt when she took her first flight.

Flying became my passion

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4 thoughts on “Flying In A Byplane

  1. Hello Fly Lady. I am one of your window people, but you may not remember me. We met on Christmas a few years ago at McDonalds and again at Old Country Buffer, where you met my sons, Jacob and Noah.

    I work for a book distributor and picked up a book I think you will like. Can I buy you lunch and deliver it?
    Lawrence
    Larry@lawrencebarnes.com

    • I sure do remember you. Sure you can drop off the book. I have moved and now live in Niles on Golf near Milwaukee Ave.
      I’d enjoy having the book and going out to lunch with you.
      Hope you and your kids are well.
      Thanks for posting me.
      Post me on Facebook or send me an email.

  2. My fist and only chance to ride in a biplane came thirty years ago at a tiny airport in Volo, IL. I was just 20 years old back then, and heck I’d only been on a plane of any type three or four times, all of which had ceilings.
    My older sister’s husband Chuck had spent twenty years as a naval pilot, then flown that passion right on into private life and bought a 1938 Stearman Biplane. And man it was one beautiful machine. He’d taken part in a small air show one sweet August day that summer of 1985; my girlfriend Erica and I had taken that long lazy drive up Rt 12 from Chicago to watch. I feel wholly nostalgic and nearly back there as I write this now. I see Erica sitting next to me, young and tan and cross legged on the bench seat of my old Impalla…………We rode mostly talk-free with the stereo turned up, just smiling, maybe singing a little.
    We pulled into the site around noon abouts, had nearly missed it, so I don’t need to tell you that this was no airport….just a flat piece of Northern Illinois ground, an Asphalt strip bisecting its midsection like belted grass. Thirty or forty cars sat wherever their owners had decided to shut ’em off. A few planes planes buzzed and turned, floated and twisted high in the air. Spectators milled and their children pointed, oohed and aahed.
    My sister, Chuck’s wife, Char tracked us down and we three together sat on a blanket, laughed and talked and looked to the sky until the show’s end. Chuck came and found us at about three o’clock, his vintage goggles hanging like a necklace; they’d left a white line bordering his eyes. Chuck smiled before he said anything to us that day. That I remember clearly. Then he asked if I’d like to fly back to Palwaukee Airport with him. Holy Moley, I thought, but “SERIOUSLY?” I blurted.
    Erica volunteered to follow Char all the way to Prospect Hts, IL, where Chuck hangered the Stearman. I didn’t have to think long before taking her up on the offer.
    Chuck assured me that he was indeed serious, clapped me on the back as I recall, and turned toward the plane…..then he said something like let’s get to the air. That part I don’t remember so clearly.

    I suppose if I stop now I’ve left out a big part of my comment; the part where I tell you what it felt like to float kite-like through the sky’s ether at 60 MPH. Yes, yes, and I never even tried to pass along a visual of how it nearly seemed as if I were time traveling, shifting dimensions on a beautiful summer day, as far below us past generations of ant-like people scurried about their little lives. And maybe I could have even spent a sentence or two on how much I thought about my dad during that short flight, thought about how he’d been a pilot himself many years before, thought about how he’d survived having twice been shot down in the South Pacific…….thought about how that damn cancer had taken him just a few months before.
    But instead I’ve decided to leave out all the above, decided that after bringing up the memory, feeling its sweetness, feeling it’s sadness, maybe I’d be best served just keeping the last part to myself, close with me, hangered in my heart, where it’s been safe all these years.
    Anyway, most you folks reading this all have a story of where you flew, or flew in, a biplane. So you all know how great it is, how exciting. But everybody has a few special stories, you know, the ones where you keep at least some of it to yourself. Turns out that this was one of those stories for me, one of those special stories. I didn’t even know it ’till I got halfway through writing it.
    Thanks for the memory FlyLady.

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