I coasted the rental car into the parking lot of what remained of Camillus Airport (NY25) in New York and attempted to transport myself back in time. The view before me was disorienting. Surrounding structures and driveways had been added. The FBO office and hangar locations appeared to have been relocated. I knew that the relocation resided only in a portion of my brain that held memories from 45 years prior. It was difficult to connect the memories of the past with the realities of the present. Perhaps it was the visceral absence of my bicycle tires rumbling across the large-stoned gravel of theparking lot—which was now worn and cracked asphalt—that was preventing my brain from reminiscing. Surely, I could coax a few synapses into recall mode. This place was holy ground, after all. It was not only the place where I had soloed but also where my hardearned $1.85-an-hour paycheck as a lineman was converted into flying lessons. Still, I was getting nothing.
A Visit to My First Airport
Key Takeaways:
- The author revisits Camillus Airport, a significantly altered site from his youth where he soloed and worked, initially struggling to reconnect with his past memories.
- He discovers N1374Q, one of the 1971 Cessna 150s he soloed, which acts as a "Rosetta stone," unlocking a flood of vivid memories and leading to a "full circle" realization about his journey to becoming an airline pilot.
- This nostalgic experience prompts the author to reflect on his formative moments, regretting that he viewed them as mere steppingstones rather than fully treasuring the journey itself.
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