For what seemed like forever—OK, so it was four weeks—I was housebound late last winter, hobbling around with a humongous cast on my right foot. Weather was consistently gray, cold and brutal in the Ohio Valley and moping around the house isn’t my style, but I got through, reasonably sane, thanks to some great memories. I’d flown my Cessna 180 and a magnificently dirty, oil-dripping, belching DC-3 in the fall. And in January, I mingled with the “beautiful people” at the Living Legends of Aviation Awards event in Los Angeles. Life is very, very good when you can move easily from oil-stained T-shirts and jeans flying a ’Goon in Knoxville to a “smasher” evening gown, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of the aviation world in Beverly Hills.