||| |—|—| | | | I’m not in my airplane. I’m sitting in my office. The sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze caressing the leaves outside my window. Now.
It didn’t start out to be a good day. The plan was to fly Judith to Ithaca, New York, to spend a weekend with a group of women who call themselves “Squat and Gobble” and then continue on to Geneseo for the “History of Flight” airshow. I would spend the day basking in the ambiance of an English countryside aerodrome, admiring the gathering of World War II fighters, bombers and trainers as they cavorted above the grass runway. As a special highlight, the sponsor of the airshow, the 1941 Historical Aircraft Group, had invited biplanes from every decade of the last century. I was looking forward to seeing those beauties representing 100 years of biplane aviation. That was the plan.
