Epiphany #132

As we were flying along yesterday, en route to a good lunch in a nearby
town, it happened again.

There I was, sitting comfortably at 3500 feet, as rock solid as I am right
now, gazing down upon freshly harvested fields and newly barren trees. The
sun was warm on my face, but the air was cool. The winds were light, radio
traffic (on this weekday flight) was minimal, and Atlas was running like a
beautiful (albeit gigantic) Swiss watch...

Conversation had fallen silent, as we were both lost in the quiet
contemplation of another routine flight. It was a beautiful day to fly.

And then, it hit me:

NONE of this was possible.

I looked out at the wings, and saw nothing that could intuitively explain
our lofty perch. There was no sensation of movement, other than the
vibration of the engine, and the landscape unrolling beneath us. I was
completely relaxed, sitting in this unlikely place, yet I was FLYING THROUGH
SPACE in a ship of my own.

At that moment, a pang of momentary fear shot through me, as it sometimes
still does when I realize that I am piloting an airplane unassisted. This,
as always, was immediately followed by a thrill of sheer, utter joy, of
purest lightness and freedom, and of the realization that nothing --
NOTHING -- like this had ever happened to anyone else in my family.

Until now.

10,000 generations before me gazed up at the sky, and wondered what it would
be like to soar with eagles. 10,000 generations wondered how it would feel
to hover between earth and sky, longing to achieve it -- but fearing it as
well.

And there I was.

All of us, in this season of man, must surely realize how fortunate we are.
All of us, in this tiny brotherhood of aviators, must surely be the luckiest
people to have ever walked this planet.

Wouldn't you think after nearly ten years, and over 1300 hours aloft (900 as
PIC; 400 with Mary as PIC), that I would get over this?

God help me if I ever do!

;-)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"