Monday, August 15, 2011

Flying: it's not just for the birds

My boyhood hero was Superman. In fact, at the age of five, having seen the drawings of Superman in the comic books, I realized how he was able to fly. You simply pulled the air with one cupped hand and pushed it with the opposite foot; then you alternated. I remember tying a dishtowel around my neck and testing my theory. Fortunately, my test bed was the porch steps, not the porch roof.

Nineteen years later I continued my yearning to fly like the Man of Steel by taking skydiving lessons. After five jumps, I realized that I was more interested in flying a plane than flying my body, and I earned a private pilot's license. Five hundred hours later I hung up my ticket to concentrate on other venues. (For example, my wife and I sold our home, bought a 42-foot yacht, and lived aboard for three years before returning to the land.)

As a then- and current member of the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, I contributed an article to the Never Again section of the monthly magazine. It found its way to the online edition:

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