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 45 years later, finding it significantly altered from his memories of where he soloed and worked to pay for flying lessons.
- He experiences a profound moment of nostalgia and a "full circle" realization upon surprisingly discovering N1374Q, a 1971 Cessna 150 he had soloed, still at the airport.
- This discovery triggers a flood of vivid memories, recalling specific moments from his first solo, interactions with instructors, and duties as a lineman.
- The author reflects on his journey from a young pilot with big dreams to an airline captain, regretting not having treasured those early moments more as they happened.
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