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For all you folks that are intent on fussing (good natured mostly) with each other about which plane is best, here is a little poem I wrote that, I think shows a different side to flying. I hope you all enjoy it.
The Milky Way With tired watery eyes he stared out at the ramp, his gnarled finger pointing toward an old yeller "Champ". "I could fly em all" he said with a frown. I been up in several, and even rode a few down. "Weren't nothin' with wings, that I couldn't fly. Still can I reckon, he said with a sigh. "Times are different now," his gravely voice breakin! The real flyin is gone now, they aint nothin' shakin'. "The Peites, the Cubs, and the Coupes, are gone with the past. Now it's just Cessnas, and Mooneys Guess nothin' don't last!" "It minds me of a time way back long ago, I was flying the mail route, and mostly runnin the show!" "Up through the passes, and down under the skud. Nothin' but bonfires to guide me, and the snow, thick as mud" "The farmers wives were a waving their scarves in the air, the children were all playin', but even they stopped to stare!" "Back then being a flyer, made you special to all. They'd come miles to see ya, through the mud and the squall." The old flyer stopped recalling, and caught up on his breath. Had to get in out of the cold, or he might catch his death. Just one more glance at the old Champ, so worn, he forgot all his miseries and continued his scorn. "Why, that ol Champ there, it reminds me of me, just a rag and a shadow, of what we used to be." "Me and it are both relics, that don't seem to die. We both sit here grounded, when we belong in the sky." "Why I'm a good mind to walk over and give her old prop a twist, just to see if she'll fire with the flick of a wrist!" "Bet no-one would miss her, nor would they, me! we could drop the chains holdin' us and together be free." "We could point toward the sunset, and fly like the Lark. Till the tanks all run empty somewhere in the dark." "Then and there, together be it early or late, search the sky for the beacon that marks Heavens gate!" I'd set her down there in heaven and roll up to "HIS" door tie her down on a cloud, and settle up on my score." "Sorry I'm late on my arrivin'" to the Angels I'd say, For a while I was grounded, and just couldn't get away." His watery old eyes twinkeled, as he walked out to the plane. Like magic, it started, as he leaned on the chain. The door swung open, so he crawled in to sit, Inside she was musty, but he just couldn't quit. His shaking hands became steady, as he touched the controls It wasn't the mail he was flyin' this time it was his soul. He taxied out to the runway, on tires that had been flat. with an engine that was silent, from the seat where he sat. He glanced at the empty tower, and a gun flashed him the green, the cross wind died suddenly, as he smiled at the scene. He shoved in on the throttle, and added some rudder for the track, saw the blue lights scream past him, as he pulled the stick back. Like an eagle, she climbed, as he pulled back on the stick. The fuel gauge showed to be empty, but she missed not a lick. Onward, and upward toward forever he flew To a pinpoint in the heavens , Don't ask how he knew!
