I was a pilot. I say “was” because I no longer fly. I’d like to but it takes time and money that I’d rather devote to other pursuits, at least for now. Maybe some day I’ll take up the reins again, but not any time soon.

I started flying at the age of 14 when a retired Air Force pilot bought a farm nearby. I watched him fly his little putt-putt airplane several times before finally getting the nerve to ride my bicycle up his driveway and introduce myself. Within days, I was sitting beside him in his late-40’s Ercoupe. Powered by an 85 hp engine, its performance was far from spectacular on a hot Oklahoma day but it didn’t matter to me--I was flying!

Fast forward 6 years to 1966. I was in college studying math and physics, expecting that I’d graduate in a couple of years and get drafted and probably end up as worm-food in Viet Nam. But one day I walked into the Student Union and there before me was a huge picture of a Marine A-4 Skyhawk. I was standing staring at it when a voice behind me said, “How’d you like to fly that?” It was a Marine recruiter. To make a long story short, I joined the Marines and flew the Skyhawk for a several years. I loved that airplane--small, maneuverable, and amazingly honest.

I left the Marines disillusioned with the military. Looking back, I suspect it was burn-out, since a couple of years later I couldn’t stand it any more and joined the Marine Reserves. Unfortunately, there weren’t any flying billets available so after a couple of years I left the Marines and joined the Flying Razorbacks, an Air National Guard unit in Fort Smith, Arkansas. I was with them, flying the F-4 Phantom and later the F-16 Falcon (a.k.a., Viper), my favorite airplane, for about 15 years. I hung up my flight gear for the last time in 1994. I’ve not piloted an airplane since.

I love flying. I always have and always will. I miss it. But, I’ve been there, done that, so it’s not too painful. If you’re one of those people who have always wanted to fly but seem to always have a dozen excuses why you can’t, I can tell you that you’re making a mistake, that you’re missing out one of the great adventures of your life. Pick up the phone and call the nearest flight school. Practically all of them have a low-cost introductory ride that they’ll be happy to sell you. I promise you won’t regret it.

Alan