wby0nder
Cleared for Takeoff
I just returned from an overnight visit to the Antique Airplane Association
fly-in at Blakesburg Iowa. I flew in Fri evening just after sunset in 48ML and camped. I was granted a great parking space close to the main hangers in a little area reserved for Pietenpols and really old Aeroncas. Mine was the only Fly Baby there.
I spent a lot of the evening talking with Robert Ball who I know through
gliding. Bob was a personal friend of Pete Bowers, the designer of the Fly Baby and author of many aviation books. In a scrapbook bob showed me a photo of an Aeronca C3 on floats that Pete had in the 50s.
I spent the balance of the evening strolling acres of seemingly endless rows of antique planes in the full moon light. It was a fantastic experience that gave me chills and made me smile like a little kid, for minutes on end. I felt like I was walking through a fantastic silvery time tunnel of aviation history. No artificial light, no concrete, nobody around... I felt as if every single one of those magnificent machines was mine for those magical hours. Then the sun rose up over the corn, splashed all with color, and with a purr or a roar, or staccato barks they swarmed and stunted and roared past in jaunty fly-bys all day long. If you attend you will be slack-jawed with amazement and wonder.
Matt Michael
Ames Iowa
fly-in at Blakesburg Iowa. I flew in Fri evening just after sunset in 48ML and camped. I was granted a great parking space close to the main hangers in a little area reserved for Pietenpols and really old Aeroncas. Mine was the only Fly Baby there.
I spent a lot of the evening talking with Robert Ball who I know through
gliding. Bob was a personal friend of Pete Bowers, the designer of the Fly Baby and author of many aviation books. In a scrapbook bob showed me a photo of an Aeronca C3 on floats that Pete had in the 50s.
I spent the balance of the evening strolling acres of seemingly endless rows of antique planes in the full moon light. It was a fantastic experience that gave me chills and made me smile like a little kid, for minutes on end. I felt like I was walking through a fantastic silvery time tunnel of aviation history. No artificial light, no concrete, nobody around... I felt as if every single one of those magnificent machines was mine for those magical hours. Then the sun rose up over the corn, splashed all with color, and with a purr or a roar, or staccato barks they swarmed and stunted and roared past in jaunty fly-bys all day long. If you attend you will be slack-jawed with amazement and wonder.
Matt Michael
Ames Iowa
