It was a cool September evening when Tim Knutson caught up with me at Signature Aviation in Minneapolis. He had arrived in uniform, the black visor to his cap angled upward in a casual flair. Tim is a 737 copilot for my airline.
We exchanged pleasantries and walked out the door, rolling our bags toward Tim’s 172 parked on the far perimeter of the ramp. He had told me that it was the “rattiest” 172 out there. That wasn’t far from the truth. Even in the dim yellow glow of the distant floodlights, I could tell that the paint and the interior had seen better days. This was Tim’s airport car. He had been using it for four years to commute to work just as his Dad had done.
