Thanks for the memories

I am now an octogenarian and as I reflect on my years of flying memories, one in particular keeps coming to the forefront and it’s one where I was not the pilot in command but a passenger. In the summer of 1985, I was on a Northwest Airlines flight from the Twin Cities (MSP) to Colorado Springs (COS) with a transfer in Denver (DEN).

After landing in Colorado Springs and walking out of the terminal building, a short distance away I noticed a group of people (75 to 100) gathering around a guy standing on a pedestal giving instructions over a PA speaker. There were about 25 airplanes right next to the crowd and the speaker was calling out names as to the specific airplane they were supposed to get into. After about 15 or 20 minutes everybody had been assigned an airplane and I was the only person standing. He looked at me and said who are you flying with? I said “Nobody, I’m a private pilot from Minnesota and I just got off an airliner and had to check out what all this activity was about.” He looked at me and said, “We’re having a fly away to La Veta (07V). Do you want to come along?” I said, I sure do. I had no idea where La Veta was. He said they would be back late afternoon. I was assigned to a brand-new Cessna P210 and got to meet the woman pilot and two other guys. We were the last ones to taxi to the runway and the tower was having two airplanes (staggered) taking off at the same time. I’m sure they were under a tight time limit and had to get everyone airborne as quickly as possible. We were the last airplane to take off, but we were the first to land at La Veta.

So now what? How do we get from the airport into town? Horse-drawn hay wagons were waiting for us! On the ride into town, I thought how a few minutes ago I was flying through time and space on a magical aluminum carpet and now I was riding in a horse-drawn hay wagon. It made me think as we speed through life, darting here darting there, we need to stop and smell the roses, live in the moment, and savor it. After touring the artsy town of La Veta and a wonderful lunch, everybody flew back to Colorado Springs at their leisure. I was about ready to head to the Antlers Hotel when I was asked if I wanted to go for a cup of coffee, again an unexpected offer. Half a dozen of us went to a local restaurant and discussed the day’s events.

I know I’ve heard some of the same stories, and very colorful ones at that, many, many times.

Fifteen years ago, my wife and I moved from the Twin Cities, along with our Cessna 140, to Detroit Lakes, Minnesota. Every Saturday morning, from around 9 a.m. to noon, 15 or 20 of us (men, women, occasionally children, and our furry friends) gather at Detroit Lake Airport (DTL) for coffee, rolls, and doughnuts. I know I’ve heard some of the same stories and very colorful ones at that many, many times. They never get old.

As Experimental Aircraft Association founder Paul Poberezny always said, “airplanes bring us together, but people keep us together.” If you find yourself in the area on a Saturday, stop in. The coffee is hot, rolls and doughnuts are really good. You might fly away with memories.

Dennis F. Johnson of Detriot Lakes, Michigan, is the owner of a 1946 Cessna 140. He has been flying for more than 57 years and has 1,290 hours as a private pilot.