Posts Tagged ‘aerial photos’





If God Meant Man To Fly….

Friday, November 11th, 2011







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If God Meant Man To Fly

He’d Have Given Him

A Propeller


What is it about men and airplanes? I remember little boys in my elementary school classes bragging that they were going to be pilots someday while we poor little girls swooned at the thought of just being “stewardesses” who wore short skirts, high heels and met rich pilots. Flying has been a part of my family as long as I can remember. My uncle is a retired Eastern Airline pilot, my cousin flies for Northwest, my cousin-in-law is retired from Delta and another cousin has a bush pilot company in Alaska. I think part of us have Wilbur or Orville’s DNA in there somewhere.


Not I, though. Oh no. My feet are planted squarely on Terra Firma (when it isn’t shaking of course) and I just really don’t get all that excited about getting any higher than our four foot ladder to pick apples. In my world, a flight on a commercial airline only occurs when all other options, including hitching a ride on a McDonald’s semi, run out and I have to get 900 miles from point A to point B in a matter of hours. I do grit my teeth, board a plane and take stock of all exits and oxygen masks within range.


But a small plane? Puh-leeeeee-zzzz. I grew up with Sky King and Penny and I saw how those little planes would nearly crash in pursuit of villains and spies. And then, in college, some tall, relatively handsome upperclassman who thought he was God’s gift to us freshman females decided to impress me with the fact that he had his very own airplane. No Camaro for this dude. Nope. He gave new meaning to, “slept late and flew to class”. So, like the dumb kid that I was, I bounced into the front passenger seat of his tin-can-of-death and cheerfully watched as the grounds of Middle Tennessee State University disappeared from view. All was going great until Mr. Macho put a piece of paper in my lap and told me to watch it. I stared at the scrap as this nerd dropped the plane so fast that the paper lifted off of my lap – with my stomach. Taught that guy never to take a freshman girl up in his plane again.


It is with this personal background that you might understand my trepidation when my son, Sir Flying Ace, informed me that he had bought an airplane – an older Cessna 172. No, he’s too old to take freshman girls up into the wild-blue-yonder – short of a prison sentence – but as far as I’m concerned, he’s still too young to drive a car, let alone fly a hunk of metal with an engine that by all rights shouldn’t be able to get 10 feet off the ground. I mean, think about it. Does it seem logical to you that a 150 lb human being can jump off a balcony, flapping his arms and end up in the emergency room with broken limbs, but a 2000 lb airplane can travel for hundreds of miles way up in the clouds? Just doesn’t make sense.


Well, this weekend Mr. Fix-It and I made a trip to northwest Oklahoma to see Sir Flying Ace and his airplane. Of course, I had already told him that the Kardashians would reunite before I would get into a small plane, but I have been known to eat my words.


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Sir Flying Ace was rather sneaky. As he pulled his plane out of the hangar, he coaxed us to hop in just to taxi down the strip to the gas tank to fill up his winged buggy.


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As he fueled the tanks, his friend and fellow pilot, Master Charlie Bravo, decided to help check things over and join in the fun. At this point, Mr. Fix-It and I realized that we were trapped with no way to get back to the hangar unless we wanted to look like idiots walking down an airstrip. We reluctantly climbed into the two back seats of the plane and it was then that I realized that Mr. Fix-It does not have those Orville and Wilber genes and is more afraid of flying than I am! I can’t quite describe the look that he gave me, but it was kind of a combination of, “If I live through this, you are making me blueberry pancakes every morning for a month!” and “Would I look stupid if I fall down on the tarmac and play dead?”


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As it was, we both managed to stay seat-belted and calm as our two pilots deftly lifted us into a beautiful, clear sky and over the town.


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A grid of wheat and cotton pastures stretched as far as we could see, bordered by miles of white crystals on the Great Salt Plains.


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Terrace farming is used in Western Oklahoma to avoid the catastrophe of the dust storms like in the 1930’s Dust Bowl.


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We landed without a hitch, taxied back to the hangar and Mr. Fix-It and I were able to unload from our ride without dropping to our knees and kissing the ground like airsick fools. We toured the area with Sir Flying Ace and marveled at the planes that he was working on and putting back together as part of his position at Vantage Plane Plastics. I am very proud of the careful and meticulous job he does replacing interiors, working on engines and doing required FAA inspections. Aviation has been in his blood since he was two years old and running out into the yard everytime a helicopter or plane flew overhead.


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And so, after our lovely visit, amazing flight and good company, Mr. Fix-It and I headed home smiling because we had made a memory and lived to tell about it! And Sir Flying Ace had performed a miracle. He had gotten us into his plane and into the air! I guess he’s feeling pretty smart. We are feeing mighty blessed!



Happy Off We Go…!



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