Nowadays, with a very competent turboprop in the hangar in Florida where the weather is good and an instrument ticket in my pocket, it is time and time alone that holds me back. Weather rarely does us in. If we need to go anywhere, I mean really need to go, there is very little in the way of weather that can stop us. We might have to wait for a line of thunderstorms to go by or, if we're up north, for the ceilings to lift enough for us to get back down the ILS should a problem develop, but delay, not cancellation, is as bad as it gets. But time from work seems harder and harder to come by. It is not that I've got some onerous boss who chains me to a desk; it is me, really. I have a set of job responsibilities that I just can't seem to comfortably foist off onto somebody else. I worry sometimes that I might be flattering myself with an unrealistic self importance, but I still end up at work and not at the airport or, even more to the point, in the air.