The Avian Fluke

If you’ve ever met me, chances are flying, flight, or something with wings has somehow entered the conversation. I’m annoying like that.

I don’t know a pilot out there who didn’t want to fly from as early as he could remember. I think it’s a lot like being a musician - you wake up one morning with a burning desire to do…this thing. For me, I think the love affair with winged things began when I was about six. A kid I went to kindergarten with had a small birthday party - just three guests. His had had a ‘47 Stinson and he took us all for a ride.

I was hooked. First hit’s free, kid, but you gotta pay for the next one.

I did get a few more hits over the ensuing years - buddies of my Dad would take me up hither and yon, and when I officially Sold Out^(tm) and entered society as a productive worker bee, I spent a lot of time as a passenger. Still do.

The fates being the spiteful little bastards that they are closed many doors to me over the years and opened others. So when this one opened up to me I jammed my foot in the door like a Kirby salesman at the end of the quarter, pried it all the way open and stepped through the threshold.

It’s not the safest thing in the world, and it’s not the most financially sound thing either. But it’s my thing. And that’s precious. It took me three decades to figure that out.

I don’t think this site is going to be an according-to-Hoyle “I worked on slips and stalls. More to study! Aaaagh!” type of weblog. Rather, I’m really interested in the process of learning to fly and what it’s going to do to me. How it will shape the way I look at the world. What I’m going to learn about non-flying from flying, if that makes any sense.

I’ll try to keep it accessible to non-pilots, too. You never know who’s reading.

Watch this space.