Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The other Harry Truman

The private pilot license came in the mail yesterday. An envelope inside of an envelope, both with postage paid. Gub'ment waste, that shit adds up. So it has Wright brothers front and back, three planes, no helicopters. It's the same thing with the cover of the regulations, the test prep workbooks, the instrument manuals.

I won't go on a Harley vs. Honda rant but, geez. Helicopters help us realize the dream of flight better than airplanes. Sure, planes have several advantages but Da Vinci never drew one. Ask any little kid what kind of bird he/she would like to be. You find a kid that says, "I want to be an albatross because they have a 22:1 glide ratio," and I'll take you and the poor retarded little bastard on a flight over the lava flows. Ah well, checkers sell more than chess.

Speaking of lava flows, one thing I couldn't show you and the cone-head in love with birds that can only take off in a stiff breeze, is the only house to survive the eruption in the 80's. The old guy turned his luck into a novelty vacation spot. He ran a B+B with heli-only access until Saturday. We've had a bunch of quakes the last couple of weeks, which have increased the lava flow. The old man got to watch the river of fire consume his house from the left seat of a Bell 407.

1 comment:

piste said...

congrats on the license. A little like when I got the card to drive the truck with the bubblegum lights. A bit anticlimatic but cool nonetheless.