Every day, I am reminded how incredibly fortunate I am to have the world's best network of friends. Not surprisingly, many of them are involved in aviation (though certainly not all), which emphasizes one of aviation's most appealing aspects--that of the sense of community.
Not everyone can find a friend that knows someone to answer just about any question that comes up, yet this is common in aviation. What's even more awesome is that I have many people I can call and prod for advice or just to chat. I'm like the Travelocity gnome--I never roam alone ;)
So, airplane friends, thanks for being there. Thanks for the advice and open ears and head-clearing services. I know my friends will always be there, whatever far reaches of the earth we get flung to. With such a widespread smattering of friends, it is fun to realize that I can be at home almost anywhere in the country. I count myself very lucky to be able to be a part of this community and hope that we are all doing our share to introduce others to this unique atmosphere.
Just had to share and say thanks.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
In Love With the Moment
It strikes me that we as humans fixate on moments, and for good reason. Moments are more than an event; they are a feeling, an emotion. As I reflect on the awesome experience I have had through my involvement in aviation, I can't say that I really had a moment where I knew instantly that I wanted to fly. I do, however, remember snippets of flights like they were yesterday, and I am of the belief that we as a community must help other fall in love with moments.
A few favorites from this year involved the trek to and from Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. On the way out, my friend Dave in his PA-11 and I in Little Airplane stopped in Knox, Indiana for the night. We had stopped at Knox on the way back from Lock Haven in 2011 and had had a great stay with couches available and even a shower. This year, we arrived about 30 minutes prior to sunset (which is a world record for Dave) and tied the airplanes down. As we each checked in with family members, I sat down on the ramp under Little Airplane's tail and took in one of the more perfect evenings I've ever experienced. The pavement was pleasantly warm, the remaining rays of sunlight warmed my face, and the view was spectacular. I can't remember what I said or how long I was there, but this image has been burned into my brain forever.
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| As far as I can tell, this image should appear in the dictionary next to the word "perfection." |
Later in the evening, we took the courtesy van to town and picked up Chinese food to go. There is nothing quite like picnic tables at an airport with takeout food, a good friend for company, pleasant weather, and only the sound of crickets and the rotating beacon making its rounds. Absolute heaven.
Another great moment from the Lock Haven trip was on the way back. We ran out of daylight and picked an airport that can only be described as the best option available. I am sure it had great facilities but there was no way to utilize them. With no cab service in town and the nearest restaurant (and restroom) 3 miles away, we got creative and called Domino's (this did not solve the second problem, but that is another story). Again, we plopped down on the ramp and had our dinner leaning up against tundra tires watching the world go to sleep. We popped the tents and settled in for the night, departing before the FBO ever actually opened.
These moments are by no means glorious. In fact, they're sort of crude and rudimentary. They're not fancy. But they are things that, to me, epitomize the barnstorming mindset of aviation. You get up, point the nose in the direction you'd like to go, count to a given number of hours, and then poke around for a fuel stop. It's delightfully unsophisticated and freeing.
Essentially, these moments are about finding your place. For me, it is somewhere in an eternal summer with an airplane that has the little wheel in the back at a grassroots airport as I wander about somewhere. I suppose if I could accurate convey what I feel I'd be miles ahead but I can only really show you. So here are a few pictures that make me smile.
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| This one is special because it shows Little Airplane as a Sun 'n' Fun 2011 Survivor. |
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| On the way home from SNF11. Loved the light on the hills. |
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| Flying the first love. |
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| Love the light. Love the subject more. |
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| She's got a few injuries left here, but she's surveying her kingdom. |
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| Hanging out while Aaron Tippin flies the Super 18. It was a tough job. |
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| A sweet gentleman gave me a 4-leaf clover for good luck in the spot landing contest. Apparently I had already won with Little Airplane by then but it was cute :) |
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| View from a nap |
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| I think it's full! |
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| Feels like living! |
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| First solo in a Pietenpol. A tremendous privilege! |
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| Basking. |
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| Show her the pancake, let her get the scent, then proceed to nearest pancake breakfast. Works every time. |
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| On to the next great adventure. |
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| Who, ME??? |
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| A girl can dream. |
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| I feel like the luckiest person in the world every time I look out and see this. |
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| IFR, Cub style. |
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| My chariot awaits. |
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| Which one, which one? I can't choose! |
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| Fueled up and off to find adventure. |
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Reader's Digest Update
- In August 2010, I began an internship with a company called Dakota Cub Aircraft (www.dakotacub.com). I worked there part-time until the summer of 2011, when I interned full-time. I continued working part-time through May 2012.
- I survived Sun 'n' Fun 2011, but one of the two Super 18s we flew down there did not. The one I flew down survived and flew back home.
- 21Y did not make it to Lock Haven 2011, but I flew one of the Super 18s available via my internship and defended my honor and regained my spot landing title.
- I graduated on May 5th. Now accepting donations for student loan payments.
- I began a new job at Wipaire on May 8th as a marketing project manager and am drinking from the proverbial fire hose in terms of learning! May get a chance to earn my webbed feet sometime too.
Told you it was the Reader's Digest version.
--Amy
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Can You Be Too Safe?
For those of you who have followed along before, stay tuned for updates.
One of the most encouraging things I have read in aviation to date has been the FAA's review of FAR 23, which governs the certification of small aircraft. Over the years, FAR 23 has grown more extensive, mostly from the business jet sector, and these higher requirements have trickled down as far as the single-engine piston market.
Perhaps it's because most of my experience is in vintage aircraft, but I can't help but think that CAR 3 airplanes are still safely operating today, 60-70 years after being certified. I'm certainly not saying that the safety improvements made in the past decades haven't been worthwhile, but I have to wonder if imposing the costly Part 23 process on small aircraft manufacturers has really saved any lives. Airplanes are lasting way longer than we ever thought they would; in fact, I'm willing to wager that a higher percentage of 70-year-old airplanes are still in operation compared to 70-year-old cars. Mr. Piper was even quoted as saying the lifespan of a J3 would be 7 years--and the aircraft was essentially designed to be disposable after that expected period.
Yet, here we are, with thousands of J3s and their descendants safely puttering around. You can argue their lifespan has been lengthened by safety developments spurred by Part 23, and that by now the aircraft is probably nowhere near original, but the fundamental design has proven solid. Are we really gaining something by imposing draconian certification measures? Or are we simply discouraging innovation and smothering sales? Few other industries have as strong of a used product market as aviation. A strong used market makes new sales difficult, which means cash flow is minimized and innovations take longer to come to market or never make it at all.
Now, I'm not advocating planned obsolescence, but rather saying that, if manufacturers were free to pursue new developments more cheaply, they could and would respond more rapidly to market forces and capture customer attention better. Personally, I have no problem if the guy down the hangar row buys a new airplane every year. Increased new aircraft sales create a more competitive and, therefore, cheaper, used market which keeps older aircraft more accessible. Consumer needs coupled with tastes and preferences drive aircraft purchases. A cheaper, more streamlined certification process allows manufacturers to be more nimble in responding to changing tastes and preferences to better appeal to today's consumer (read: draw more people into aviation).
Essentially, aviation faces the conundrum of the mature domestic market. Growth is not occurring or occurring at such a slow rate it hardly counts as growth. Producers want to create products they can sell, but doing so is so costly that manufacturers elect not to pursue projects or new manufacturers never emerge due to these high costs.
The review of Part 23 will hopefully reduce the cost and time required for certification such that new products can be developed more cheaply and designed to meet more reasonable standards. Aircraft design has reached a state where structural failure is exceedingly rare, and airmanship continues to be the most lacking factor in improving flight safety. With that said, have we created an illusion of safety through expensive and unnecessary certification procedures? Have we been taught to rely upon product design more than our own skill? Has Part 23's primary accomplishment been to stifle innovation and new product release, while creating a product overbuilt and overpriced?
Food for thought.
--Amy
One of the most encouraging things I have read in aviation to date has been the FAA's review of FAR 23, which governs the certification of small aircraft. Over the years, FAR 23 has grown more extensive, mostly from the business jet sector, and these higher requirements have trickled down as far as the single-engine piston market.
Perhaps it's because most of my experience is in vintage aircraft, but I can't help but think that CAR 3 airplanes are still safely operating today, 60-70 years after being certified. I'm certainly not saying that the safety improvements made in the past decades haven't been worthwhile, but I have to wonder if imposing the costly Part 23 process on small aircraft manufacturers has really saved any lives. Airplanes are lasting way longer than we ever thought they would; in fact, I'm willing to wager that a higher percentage of 70-year-old airplanes are still in operation compared to 70-year-old cars. Mr. Piper was even quoted as saying the lifespan of a J3 would be 7 years--and the aircraft was essentially designed to be disposable after that expected period.
Yet, here we are, with thousands of J3s and their descendants safely puttering around. You can argue their lifespan has been lengthened by safety developments spurred by Part 23, and that by now the aircraft is probably nowhere near original, but the fundamental design has proven solid. Are we really gaining something by imposing draconian certification measures? Or are we simply discouraging innovation and smothering sales? Few other industries have as strong of a used product market as aviation. A strong used market makes new sales difficult, which means cash flow is minimized and innovations take longer to come to market or never make it at all.
Now, I'm not advocating planned obsolescence, but rather saying that, if manufacturers were free to pursue new developments more cheaply, they could and would respond more rapidly to market forces and capture customer attention better. Personally, I have no problem if the guy down the hangar row buys a new airplane every year. Increased new aircraft sales create a more competitive and, therefore, cheaper, used market which keeps older aircraft more accessible. Consumer needs coupled with tastes and preferences drive aircraft purchases. A cheaper, more streamlined certification process allows manufacturers to be more nimble in responding to changing tastes and preferences to better appeal to today's consumer (read: draw more people into aviation).
Essentially, aviation faces the conundrum of the mature domestic market. Growth is not occurring or occurring at such a slow rate it hardly counts as growth. Producers want to create products they can sell, but doing so is so costly that manufacturers elect not to pursue projects or new manufacturers never emerge due to these high costs.
The review of Part 23 will hopefully reduce the cost and time required for certification such that new products can be developed more cheaply and designed to meet more reasonable standards. Aircraft design has reached a state where structural failure is exceedingly rare, and airmanship continues to be the most lacking factor in improving flight safety. With that said, have we created an illusion of safety through expensive and unnecessary certification procedures? Have we been taught to rely upon product design more than our own skill? Has Part 23's primary accomplishment been to stifle innovation and new product release, while creating a product overbuilt and overpriced?
Food for thought.
--Amy
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Adventure
It's certainly been a while since I've been here. I've given all the excuses, busy with work, school, etc., but now the words are pooling in my head and they need a way out.
Things have changed a lot in the past year. Some things for the better, some still to be determined. There have been challenges and triumphs of course, but also a fair amount of soul-searching.
I'm graduating this [rapidly approaching] May. Now what?
A relationship I thought was going to last a lifetime fizzled out (mutually, and we're still friends). All the things I thought I knew and I thought I wanted are now in question.
So I start this school year alone in many ways. I'm in an apartment by myself, which is, of course, a double-edged sword. I love the privacy and space, but I do miss the social aspect. I'm forcing myself to embrace the solitude to really think about who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do, and where I want to go.
"If I were smart" is a phrase I've been thinking and saying a lot lately. If I were smart, I'd be an air traffic controller. If I were smart, I'd go to work for an ad agency. If I were smart . . .
And I guess here's a realization--it's not that I'm not smart enough to do the above. It's that, in some way, I'm not ready to do that. I've been spoiled by the experience of aviation and I'm not ready to sit down and have it take a back seat.
By all measures, that's not a well-advised stand to take. The wise thing to do would be to take a good-paying "normal" job, save up for my airplane, a house, a car, etc., and put money away for retirement. However, this is part of what has led me to where I am. I'm not ready to give up having my little yellow airplane to have a house. There's nothing wrong with those goals--I'm just not prepared for them yet.
So I sit back and take solace in the advice of a corporate pilot I know. "Experience these things while you're young," he said to me. "Because otherwise life happens, and you sit back and wonder where the time went. I always figured I'd finish college, and I still want to go to Alaska and be a bush pilot. There's always time to find jobs like this."
And then I ponder a little more and recall this quote by Mark Twain: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
I have the world's best friends and myriad opportunities to chase around in airplanes. So let's go, let's wander outside the comfort zone--no, let's barrel right through it and see where we end up. There's plenty of time to work but not an abundance of time to explore and experience. Here's to the adventure :)
--Amy
Things have changed a lot in the past year. Some things for the better, some still to be determined. There have been challenges and triumphs of course, but also a fair amount of soul-searching.
I'm graduating this [rapidly approaching] May. Now what?
A relationship I thought was going to last a lifetime fizzled out (mutually, and we're still friends). All the things I thought I knew and I thought I wanted are now in question.
So I start this school year alone in many ways. I'm in an apartment by myself, which is, of course, a double-edged sword. I love the privacy and space, but I do miss the social aspect. I'm forcing myself to embrace the solitude to really think about who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do, and where I want to go.
"If I were smart" is a phrase I've been thinking and saying a lot lately. If I were smart, I'd be an air traffic controller. If I were smart, I'd go to work for an ad agency. If I were smart . . .
And I guess here's a realization--it's not that I'm not smart enough to do the above. It's that, in some way, I'm not ready to do that. I've been spoiled by the experience of aviation and I'm not ready to sit down and have it take a back seat.
By all measures, that's not a well-advised stand to take. The wise thing to do would be to take a good-paying "normal" job, save up for my airplane, a house, a car, etc., and put money away for retirement. However, this is part of what has led me to where I am. I'm not ready to give up having my little yellow airplane to have a house. There's nothing wrong with those goals--I'm just not prepared for them yet.
So I sit back and take solace in the advice of a corporate pilot I know. "Experience these things while you're young," he said to me. "Because otherwise life happens, and you sit back and wonder where the time went. I always figured I'd finish college, and I still want to go to Alaska and be a bush pilot. There's always time to find jobs like this."
And then I ponder a little more and recall this quote by Mark Twain: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
I have the world's best friends and myriad opportunities to chase around in airplanes. So let's go, let's wander outside the comfort zone--no, let's barrel right through it and see where we end up. There's plenty of time to work but not an abundance of time to explore and experience. Here's to the adventure :)
--Amy
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Keeping Me Sane
I think everyone who likes airplanes is suffering with the dismal weather lately . . . toss in some stress, lack of sleep, and the ubiquitous college money concerns, and it gets worse!
Thankfully, there's this one thing I know I can always count on (and I have an awesome network of friends who care about me) that can cheer me up.
This little airplane.
In her I am home. I am complete. I cannot delineate where she ends and I begin. We flow together, two imperfect souls having found perfect partners in each other. She does not do my bidding; we work together seamlessly. I cannot recall giving commands, only desiring something to happen, and enjoying when it does. We meld naturally together, having become best friends after starting out timidly exploring each other. We have learned each other's quirks, growing closer in an inexplicable way only understood by those who have found their soulmates in the sky. There is a bond with her I cannot begin to explain--most, I'm sure, will dismiss such a notion as purely the construction of an overactive imagination. I'm ok with that . . . I know how this wonderful creature makes me feel, and I owe her the utmost respect because of it. If that relegates me to the outer fringes of the aviation family, so be it . . . the characters out here are more interesting anyhow!
These little yellow airplane "ruined" me. They ignited in me a passion so deep and pure not even I fully understood it, nor do I understand it today. They swept away the socially accepted appeal of a traditional airline job, baring me of any excuses to fly.
So why do I do it?
Because I love it.
Not because I desire a job sitting in the video-game cockpit of a massive technological marvel. I am a puddlejumper. I am "that little guy." I've got as many hours as commercial pilot checkride applicants, almost all of it hopping around in a Cub--and I wouldn't trade any of that for the world.
Too often we applaud people for saying what they want to do. I suppose I find this a little troublesome as those plans change at the bat of an eyelash. Where is the recognition for the ones who say "That's not for me" and seek to carve out their own niche? When did we start rewarding the safe bet and shy away from encouraging the daring, the impassioned, the dreamers?
I can tell you I will never be an airline pilot. I have several airline pilot friends who love their jobs, and I respect both them and their occupations greatly. But it's not for me, and everywhere I turn I'm the odd man out for knowing that about myself. I will not be that aviation school graduate who ends up hating their life flying for a low-paying regional carrier. I will do all I can, knowing this about myself, to keep the enthusiasm burning so I can introduce others to this wonderful world I'm so privileged to experience and participate in. To me, that's the highest calling--it has the most risk with the lowest tangible rewards, coupled with the greatest risk for financial ruin. Yet, it is the least recognized and least rewarded pursuit of them all.
Something's wrong with that.
We're only hurting ourselves by failing to support those striving to make a difference in the lives of others. We should certainly support those with a burning desire to become professional pilots, but not at the expense of losing great advocates.
Moral of this rambling: Cubs are cool. Cubs changed my life, making it more difficult inasmuch as career choices, but enriching it beyond belief with experience and clarity. Don't forget the puddlejumpers!
My bestest pal : ) Some day she'll be mine . . . I'm not entirely sure how, but I'll make it happen. My first post-college purchase will not be a car, a tv, a house . . . it will be this airplane, yes THIS one, because she means that much to me. I will live off of Ramen noodles and Easy Mac, driving my faithful old Saab, living in a cheap cramped apartment if that's what it takes.
Heading off to dream of warm times with my #1 girl, 21Y,
--Amy
Thankfully, there's this one thing I know I can always count on (and I have an awesome network of friends who care about me) that can cheer me up.
This little airplane.
In her I am home. I am complete. I cannot delineate where she ends and I begin. We flow together, two imperfect souls having found perfect partners in each other. She does not do my bidding; we work together seamlessly. I cannot recall giving commands, only desiring something to happen, and enjoying when it does. We meld naturally together, having become best friends after starting out timidly exploring each other. We have learned each other's quirks, growing closer in an inexplicable way only understood by those who have found their soulmates in the sky. There is a bond with her I cannot begin to explain--most, I'm sure, will dismiss such a notion as purely the construction of an overactive imagination. I'm ok with that . . . I know how this wonderful creature makes me feel, and I owe her the utmost respect because of it. If that relegates me to the outer fringes of the aviation family, so be it . . . the characters out here are more interesting anyhow!
These little yellow airplane "ruined" me. They ignited in me a passion so deep and pure not even I fully understood it, nor do I understand it today. They swept away the socially accepted appeal of a traditional airline job, baring me of any excuses to fly.
So why do I do it?
Because I love it.
Not because I desire a job sitting in the video-game cockpit of a massive technological marvel. I am a puddlejumper. I am "that little guy." I've got as many hours as commercial pilot checkride applicants, almost all of it hopping around in a Cub--and I wouldn't trade any of that for the world.
Too often we applaud people for saying what they want to do. I suppose I find this a little troublesome as those plans change at the bat of an eyelash. Where is the recognition for the ones who say "That's not for me" and seek to carve out their own niche? When did we start rewarding the safe bet and shy away from encouraging the daring, the impassioned, the dreamers?
I can tell you I will never be an airline pilot. I have several airline pilot friends who love their jobs, and I respect both them and their occupations greatly. But it's not for me, and everywhere I turn I'm the odd man out for knowing that about myself. I will not be that aviation school graduate who ends up hating their life flying for a low-paying regional carrier. I will do all I can, knowing this about myself, to keep the enthusiasm burning so I can introduce others to this wonderful world I'm so privileged to experience and participate in. To me, that's the highest calling--it has the most risk with the lowest tangible rewards, coupled with the greatest risk for financial ruin. Yet, it is the least recognized and least rewarded pursuit of them all.
Something's wrong with that.
We're only hurting ourselves by failing to support those striving to make a difference in the lives of others. We should certainly support those with a burning desire to become professional pilots, but not at the expense of losing great advocates.
Moral of this rambling: Cubs are cool. Cubs changed my life, making it more difficult inasmuch as career choices, but enriching it beyond belief with experience and clarity. Don't forget the puddlejumpers!
My bestest pal : ) Some day she'll be mine . . . I'm not entirely sure how, but I'll make it happen. My first post-college purchase will not be a car, a tv, a house . . . it will be this airplane, yes THIS one, because she means that much to me. I will live off of Ramen noodles and Easy Mac, driving my faithful old Saab, living in a cheap cramped apartment if that's what it takes.
Heading off to dream of warm times with my #1 girl, 21Y,
--Amy
TAKE ME BACK TO BLAKESBURG!
That midwinter itch has struck again! I've been stuck on the ground over two months now, and it's getting to the point where I fear permanent twitches will result. Man, this forced cold-turkey quitting is no fun!
Some days I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, and all the excitement of last year has worn off, leaving me with a dull few months. Spring semester always seems to be more hectic, but perhaps that's simply because that bright light at the end of the tunnel--summer, with its promises of warmth and, more importantly, little yellow airplanes--starts to twinkle a little brighter. As if I needed another excuse to daydream about airplanes!
After a particularly stressful night herding cats (or, attempting to organize a Women in Aviation chapter with two people attempting to act as president), I began chatting with my best friend (and boyfriend) about all the things we looked forward to in summer . . . puddle-jumping two Cubs from Wisconsin to Lock Haven for Sentimental Journey, the BARNSTORMING FLY-IN!! (which as you can tell, I'm quite excited for!) Other things include Oshkosh, Brodhead, and Blakesburg, which happens to be one of those few priceless places in the world where everything just seems to be right.
There's just much else to say about that, I guess. Everything is right, though it's always sad to leave because, although Brodhead is next weekend, Blakesburg always seems to signal the end of summer. It has fast become one of my favorite fly-ins (you didn't actually expect me to pick a favorite, did you??) because it is, indeed, a perfect little haven hidden away where seemingly no one can touch it. Here is a well-guarded paradise where people come together and stay together (out of necessity, if nothing else), all here to celebrate cool old airplanes. My kind of people indeed!
It is this environment I miss the most when I'm away from my home airport. I haven't found surroundings that match these gatherings of vintage airplanes for pure passion and encouragement of the passionate pursuit of flying. Everyone truly WANTS to be there. It's easy to forget that feeling when you're surrounding by 14,000 people simply plodding through the daily grind.
However, we cannot lose that attitude . . . without it we have nothing. The passionate people I found at my local airport, supportive and encouraging, made all the difference in fostering my growth and directing my energies. Unfortunately, this evnironment is difficult to come by, especially as a young person. Yet, this situation is the most vital--more young people need to be unquestioningly accepted with open arms by the aviation community, not branded as outsiders and taught to view everyone with an interest in aviation as suspicious.
Let's take Blakesburg to the rest of the world, one ride at a time!
Who COULDN'T fall in love with this??
Jim Koepnick photo, (C) 2009
--Amy!
Some days I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, and all the excitement of last year has worn off, leaving me with a dull few months. Spring semester always seems to be more hectic, but perhaps that's simply because that bright light at the end of the tunnel--summer, with its promises of warmth and, more importantly, little yellow airplanes--starts to twinkle a little brighter. As if I needed another excuse to daydream about airplanes!
After a particularly stressful night herding cats (or, attempting to organize a Women in Aviation chapter with two people attempting to act as president), I began chatting with my best friend (and boyfriend) about all the things we looked forward to in summer . . . puddle-jumping two Cubs from Wisconsin to Lock Haven for Sentimental Journey, the BARNSTORMING FLY-IN!! (which as you can tell, I'm quite excited for!) Other things include Oshkosh, Brodhead, and Blakesburg, which happens to be one of those few priceless places in the world where everything just seems to be right.
There's just much else to say about that, I guess. Everything is right, though it's always sad to leave because, although Brodhead is next weekend, Blakesburg always seems to signal the end of summer. It has fast become one of my favorite fly-ins (you didn't actually expect me to pick a favorite, did you??) because it is, indeed, a perfect little haven hidden away where seemingly no one can touch it. Here is a well-guarded paradise where people come together and stay together (out of necessity, if nothing else), all here to celebrate cool old airplanes. My kind of people indeed!
It is this environment I miss the most when I'm away from my home airport. I haven't found surroundings that match these gatherings of vintage airplanes for pure passion and encouragement of the passionate pursuit of flying. Everyone truly WANTS to be there. It's easy to forget that feeling when you're surrounding by 14,000 people simply plodding through the daily grind.
However, we cannot lose that attitude . . . without it we have nothing. The passionate people I found at my local airport, supportive and encouraging, made all the difference in fostering my growth and directing my energies. Unfortunately, this evnironment is difficult to come by, especially as a young person. Yet, this situation is the most vital--more young people need to be unquestioningly accepted with open arms by the aviation community, not branded as outsiders and taught to view everyone with an interest in aviation as suspicious.
Let's take Blakesburg to the rest of the world, one ride at a time!
Who COULDN'T fall in love with this??
Jim Koepnick photo, (C) 2009
--Amy!
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