First Flight

A little less than 100 years ago, a 7-year-old boy named John Welsh was an errand boy in the bicycle shop belonging to the two brothers who, some years earlier, had made history by conducting the first powered flight out of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, in a biplane.

Today is the 103^rd anniversary of that flight, and today Dan and I took a couple of friends flying.  They had never flown in a general aviation aircraft before and one of them just happened to be the granddaughter of that 7-year-old errand boy. It was a Piper Comanche, and New York City put on its best bib and tucker to greet us today.

Dan is very good at the introductory flight routine – he let both Wanda and Rebecca fly the plane on their own for a bit, which just never gets old for him, or for me for that matter. People are always astonished that they are being given the opportunity to fly, and of course they generally botch things very badly and make you suddenly recall everything you’ve eaten in the past day or so but these two women did spectacularly well and it was a great day all around.

We flew down the Hudson River, and on to South Jersey Regional Airport to have some breakfast in one of those charming, full-of-personality airport diners. The food was pretty good but that’s not really the point. The point is, you fly there and you sit and eat and watch other people fly in, and you enjoy your friends and the conversation while you eat, and then you fly home. It really can’t be beat. 

At the airport diner, there was a gentleman sitting in back of us, with his colleagues, going on and on about how irresponsible and juvenile email is, as a form of communication. He said, if you want him to know something, you write him a letter and slap a 37-cent stamp on it, and he’ll take you seriously.

Of course, I thought this was thoroughly amusing.

Particularly since stamps don’t cost 37 cents any more.   

And it sort of tied things together nicely for me, upon reflectiion.  There I was, sitting with the granddaughter of a little kid who worked for Orville and Wilbur, who I am obviously quite grateful to, and this guy is ranting about email vs. snail mail. Who knows what his granddaughter will accept as a common form of communication? Or transportation, for that matter? 

Photo courtesy of Rebecca Day.