From Dream to Reality: A Girl, a Plane and a Space Suit
By Lane Wallace
Photographed by Dean Tokuno
March 2009
 When I was three years old, I wanted to be an astronaut. Mostly because my older sister Gail wanted to be one, I think. But, still. Never mind that girls weren't allowed to be astronauts back then. Obstacles, even seemingly insurmountable ones, never stopped anyone from dreaming -- especially at age three. My father, enlightened soul that he is, even bought my sister and me astronaut outfits (plastic astronaut helmets that went on top of fuzzy sleeper pajama/space suits) as encouragement. The outfits were, by far, our favorite Christmas presents that year.
Time passed, and life moved on. I got more interested in drama, arts and writing, and the dream of space travel faded. And yet, my fascination with space endured. I still remember when my Uncle Ned brought a telescope on a family camping trip and showed me the Andromeda Galaxy -- a destination that would require light years and some unknown future technology to reach.
But someone else was going to explore it. That just wasn't the way my life was headed. I did, finally, learn to fly airplanes, which was at least off the planet by a little bit. And truly -- as anyone who's read any of my columns can attest -- that simple gift of wings has made my life far richer, and taught me more about myself, life and living, than any other single activity I've ever undertaken.
I have no regrets.
And yet ... I never forgot that plastic space helmet, or the dream that went with it. So, okay. I wasn't ever going to be an astronaut. But just once, I thought ... just once ... wouldn't it be cool to go far enough off the planet to have to wear a space suit? And far enough to see the curvature of the Earth? That would be enough. More than enough.
 |
|
 |
|
My sister Gail and me in the 1960s;
fast-forward to 2008.
|
I knew it was a pie-in-the-sky kind of dream, like having dinner with George Clooney or winning an Academy Award. But odds against never stopped anyone from dreaming. I even tried once, back in the mid-1990s, to make my long-shot dream come true. I was working on a book for NASA about the Dryden Flight Research Center -- a place where the Space Shuttle still landed, and the SR-71 was used for research flights.
I suggested to the Center management that to really write a good story about the work they did, I needed to experience their world. A Space Shuttle flight, perhaps? When the Center Director stopped laughing, he showed me a list of journalists who wanted a Space Shuttle flight. It was, as the saying goes, both long and distinguished.
I reconsidered. An SR-71 flight, then? More tolerant smiles ensued. There is apparently a reason the SR-71 has two crewmembers. Nobody gets to just ride along.
Well, it was worth a shot. I figured that was that and went back to doing what I love and do best. Which, among other things, includes flying old airplanes and writing stories about it.
Ten years passed.
And then one day, I got a note from a pilot at Ranchaero Airport in northeast California. They were having a little fly-in barbecue and, based on my writing, the pilot thought it might be the kind of thing I'd enjoy. Ranchaero was an easy day trip in the Cheetah. And after hearing about all the Stearmans, Wacos, Cubs and other classic old tailwheels that either lived there or were expected to show up, I decided I'd go.
I was standing next to several pilots at the barbecue when three yellow Cubs came in from the south and landed.
"See that guy in the lead Cub? He's a U-2 pilot," one of the pilots said as the Cubs taxied in. I watched a slight, goggled pilot unfold himself from the back seat of the Cub. He didn't strike me as a high-flying jet jockey. And an Air Force Space God flying a CUB? Not likely.
"Sure he is," I replied. "And I'm Queen Elizabeth."
The pilot laughed. "No, really," he said. "Hey, Cabi!" he called to the approaching Cub pilot. "Come here!"
The pilot walked over and, when told I didn't believe that he flew U-2s, pulled out his cell phone and started flipping through photos. He then turned the phone toward me. And there, clear as day, was a close-up, self-portrait photo of him, in a space suit, somewhere very high above the Earth.
"Oh, my God!" I said, laughing. "You're for real!"
And so it began. Maj. John "Cabi" Cabigas, U-2 instructor pilot and passionate Piper Cub owner, and I spent quite some time talking about U-2s, space suits, and the quirks and joys of tailwheel airplane flying. And before he left, Cabi said he'd look into my doing a story on a flight in a U-2.
We tried very hard to make that story happen. I even flew up to the Beale AFB airshow, in the hopes of convincing the brass I was worth their effort. But budgets were tight. There was a war going on in the Middle East. And after more than a year of effort, we gave up.
Discuss this article in our forums
| 
Copyright @ 2009 Bonnier Corp. All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.
