I wish every pilot could find someone who not only encourages but profoundly affects his or her early years in the air, someone who is there for a lifetime of flying and who you will never forget. Not an instructor or mentor, but just another pilot who encourages you to embrace and enjoy the glorious fun and not-so-serious side of flying. And I hope you’re lucky enough that it’s a person as colorful and kind, as funny and intelligent, as quirky, competent, unique, and loyal as my friend, Tom.
Tom was one of the ‘60s and ‘70s “South Line crowd,” mostly young guys, but actually pilots of all ages. They had no problem accepting and welcoming kindred spirits in “the Franke girls” (my sister and me). Most owned little airplanes and spent nearly all their free time at the airport, which had far fewer restrictions and regulations in those days—certainly no locked gates and 8-foot fences. Maybe I’m looking through rose-colored glasses at old memories, but I’m pretty sure it was a time when people seemed to enjoy, trust, and even take care of each other.
