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Flyin' For Me
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(by Jim Cox)

At the hanger before a summer sunrise, the cooler air still hasn't woke up yet and the sock remains limp... These are the ingredients that "Blue Bird" anxiously awaits, it's wings, air screw, and power plant will find their peak performance this morning. The smile begins to grow as I walk around the pre-flight knowing the open cockpit will yield a barn stormer type flying experience. The prop comes to life, the control surfaces move with ease, the heart rate increases and the eyes open wider with anticipation. Clearing for back taxi and outbound, one more final attention to the controls and instruments. Apply full thrust. Blue Bird being a single and light, lifts off before the throttle gets to full power, pushing beyond ground effect with an angle of attack that "canned flyers" only dream about. Leveling off at altitude, we come into equilibrium and grin some more at the sight of the "ground pounders" and the ant race below. For me, the world and it's problems now become irrelevant as perspective and cool air soon overwhelm the senses. Flying at tree top level over the River Highway, spotting wildlife below as well as in the air with you, tends to put this life back into some form of recognizable order, even if its for only a few minutes. Having adjusted to this new environment and getting greedy, it's apparent with the open flat fields below that it's time for some more intense type of flying. Taking note of wind direction, Blue lowers it's pitch attitude and heads for the hard deck, corkscrewing the morning fog in it's wake. Flying a few feet off the ground, your only comfort is speed, which to the on looker appears to be even more than foolish. Now that the adrenaline is coursing through the capillaries at full speed, a sharp pull back on the stick just sends it "all" off the chart, requiring some outloud adjectives or atleast some sort of pleasure howl. Now that we're feeling full of our- selves, the summer air bubbles and the upcoming winds remind us that all things are transitory, we're just obligated to latch on to "it" whenever we can. Clearing for in-bound and final, with the sun still low to the East, Blue purposely comes in high for one last treat. Rolling the wings into the wind, lowering pitch, and ruddering opposite to a cross-c I can't hide the grin as I push Blue back into it's hanger. Flying takes on as many different meanings as there are pilots, each with their own story. Flying liberates my soul without having to die for it. This is what Flying means to me..... just some ramblings of an ultralight pilot.

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