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Some Bad News
for Newbies

Sept 13, 2002

The potentially addictive nature of our sport took a turn for the worse. Just when I thought it was getting better, easier to move on, this happens:

After the first year's flying I thought this desire would diminish to a simple pleasure and I would be able to get back to a normal life...doing those things of PPG prior. That was early 1999. The bad news is that on Sept 9, 2002 it still hasn't happened. You may be in for the long haul.

Today proved it.

This morning's stillness was relentless. I really wanted to sleep in but had to at least check the wind...ok, so the anemometer reads zero but I'll bet the leaves outside the window are wiggling, that would be enough to let me remain in bed. I looked, they weren't. Dead calm. And warm too.
Uncle.

Fog in the prairie preserve gave way to the smooth, wet greens of an unopened golf course. Those are the best...foot drags never got easier...well manicured fairways, topped with dew; it feels so good to the soul. A surprising beauty is nestled amongst the developments.

Crossing a clearing through the creek, fish wakes are clearly visible as they hustle away from the big bird.

Don't drag your feet through cat-O-9 tails...that hurts. Only did that once.

Feeling the air and smelling it is part of the joy...each nuance of temperature registers all over.

This time the folks at the quarry were waving and seemed to enjoy my presence. Of course this time it didn't go *IN* the quarry either. What a great perch to see how those things work...how big rocks get turned into sand with about every size in between.

The family that came outside of their farmhouse to see what was up seemed especially appreciative. It was landable everywhere allowing me to fly up, around and between the trees nearby. With Rich Mullins mountain dulcimer pounding out a melodic tune in my ears, maples carving by in motion only a PPG can produce, I let out a shout "I love this country!". I'm sure they heard it.

 Eastward ho, a hundred feet up beside the congestion of I-55 towards the water fountain. If you haven't yet flown a water fountain, you MUST find one. That has got to be one of the coolest things in the world. I didn't actually get my feet in it because of the camera and tape player in my lap...but I got close! Several times.

After the requisite lap around Tellabs (sorry Nick...I knew you wouldn't be there yet though) I headed back.

In an airplane we avoid flocks of birds...not with this craft! There must have been a thousand of the them, red-winged blackbirds, and when they all launched at once it was eerie. I couldn't really get in their midst because they were faster. But it was close enough and there were enough of them to feel pretty surrounded.

I took off with about 2 hours of fuel; not quite full so I knew it was getting close: I'd been airborne for 1:45. Climbing up to 2800 feet took me a few minutes but the quiet glide was worth it. Mr. cruiser coughed out it's last fuel at 9:12, 2 hours and 1 minute after my feet started their run.

The prop spins on the sky cruiser even when power off. I'd rather it didn't and found a way to get it to stop (without reaching back). I'll explain how someday.

Landing was a one-stepper back at the van. The music played on which lured me into stuffing the wing, putting it beside a pole for a pillow and just laying there...soaking in the joy of what just took place. Oooh that was good.

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