I do the same, have since I was a kid. Walking out of the office a few years ago I was greeted by a sound I hadn't heard before; not the normal chinooks or blackhawks that frequent the local army airfield, but didn't have the distinctive huey sound either.
Decided to wait around for a few minutes, was rewarded by seeing a brand-new, not-operational-yet Osprey flying up the valley. Guessing it was going to stop and refuel, I drove down the hill to the airport and watched it touch down and taxi in. A fairly steady stream of people, adults and kids, started showing up shortly thereafter, and the flight crew was nice enough to get permission to let us all out onto the tarmac and give us a short tour. A few of us stuck around while they refueled it, and watched it take off. Very impressive piece of engineering, that machine.
That aircraft proved to me that as cynical and jaded as I might have become, some things still have the ability to reach my inner kid, and convinced me that I should pursue my childhood dream of getting my pilot's license.
Now -- money, time and weather permitting -- I fly an equally magical carpet in the form of a 1968 Cessna 172. That first solo was equal parts wonder that they thought I was ready and terror that I was about to show them why I wasn't. Currently building hours and practicing for my check ride, hopefully will have my ticket by the end of the year.
Decided to wait around for a few minutes, was rewarded by seeing a brand-new, not-operational-yet Osprey flying up the valley. Guessing it was going to stop and refuel, I drove down the hill to the airport and watched it touch down and taxi in. A fairly steady stream of people, adults and kids, started showing up shortly thereafter, and the flight crew was nice enough to get permission to let us all out onto the tarmac and give us a short tour. A few of us stuck around while they refueled it, and watched it take off. Very impressive piece of engineering, that machine.
That aircraft proved to me that as cynical and jaded as I might have become, some things still have the ability to reach my inner kid, and convinced me that I should pursue my childhood dream of getting my pilot's license.
Now -- money, time and weather permitting -- I fly an equally magical carpet in the form of a 1968 Cessna 172. That first solo was equal parts wonder that they thought I was ready and terror that I was about to show them why I wasn't. Currently building hours and practicing for my check ride, hopefully will have my ticket by the end of the year.