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Countdown...
Nov. 24th, 2005 12:00 amIf my reckoning is correct, Galina ought to be either in the air or about to board at Sheremetevo. Tomorrow, I must do a thorough once-over of the joint before I leave for Albuquerque. Just for the halibut, you should pardon the expression, I am inclined to take a new route that takes me pretty much cross country.
Not so new, really.
Back when I entertained visions of owning an airplane and flying into and out of Pagosa on business - and this was back before I moved to Houston in '96 - I took the necessary first step and got a pilot's license. Nothing fancy, just plain VFR flying. I loved it. Despite the close quarters and the noise and vibration that penetrated even the most sturdily build headset, I genuinely loved to fly. There is something about seeing the world from above in machine where the controlling agency is yourself that's hard to describe; it beats looking out the window of a commercial jetliner hollow.
I even took the rented plane on jaunts to Colorado Springs and Albuquerque to pick up friends a couple of times, just because I could. (And isn't that a grand feeling?)
Anyway, part of the reason for flying hither and yon was to rack up flight hours, because generally speaking, the more flight hours you have, the more comfortable you are in the air and perhaps the more capable you become at handling emergencies. (The same thing happens when you learn to drive a car, BTW. The more time you spend driving, the more the actual mechanics of the task embed themselves in your muscles and subconscious, allowing you to pay attention to more important matters.)
Anyway, I seem to recall arranging with my flight instructor to fly to Albuquerque one day, whereupon I would get out and he would drive the plane back to Pagosa. On the appointed morning, however, something prevented us from leaving (I don't think it was the weather, but it's been a long time). In any event, my instructor up and volunteered to drive me to Albuquerque, as a simple, neighborly gesture.
(If you think taking a detour of 400+ miles to do a neighbor a favor is strange, let me tell you that this kind of stuff isn't unusual in this neck of the woods.)
At the time, I'd only been to Albuquerque once or so, so I had stuck to the well-worn paths. My flight instructor, however, took me off the beaten - and paved, for that matter - road a few miles short of Chromo. I intend to repeat his trek tomorrow.
I mean, it's not as if I can expect to go shopping or anything.
* * * Drew decided to close the store early today (5 pm), and there was no beef from me. As I won't be around for tomorrow's celebration, I stopped by the Shanghai and picked up some vittles à la chinois, so to speak, and hied them over to the kids' place for dinner. I spent a pleasant time.
Cheers...
Not so new, really.
Back when I entertained visions of owning an airplane and flying into and out of Pagosa on business - and this was back before I moved to Houston in '96 - I took the necessary first step and got a pilot's license. Nothing fancy, just plain VFR flying. I loved it. Despite the close quarters and the noise and vibration that penetrated even the most sturdily build headset, I genuinely loved to fly. There is something about seeing the world from above in machine where the controlling agency is yourself that's hard to describe; it beats looking out the window of a commercial jetliner hollow.
I even took the rented plane on jaunts to Colorado Springs and Albuquerque to pick up friends a couple of times, just because I could. (And isn't that a grand feeling?)
Anyway, part of the reason for flying hither and yon was to rack up flight hours, because generally speaking, the more flight hours you have, the more comfortable you are in the air and perhaps the more capable you become at handling emergencies. (The same thing happens when you learn to drive a car, BTW. The more time you spend driving, the more the actual mechanics of the task embed themselves in your muscles and subconscious, allowing you to pay attention to more important matters.)
Anyway, I seem to recall arranging with my flight instructor to fly to Albuquerque one day, whereupon I would get out and he would drive the plane back to Pagosa. On the appointed morning, however, something prevented us from leaving (I don't think it was the weather, but it's been a long time). In any event, my instructor up and volunteered to drive me to Albuquerque, as a simple, neighborly gesture.
(If you think taking a detour of 400+ miles to do a neighbor a favor is strange, let me tell you that this kind of stuff isn't unusual in this neck of the woods.)
At the time, I'd only been to Albuquerque once or so, so I had stuck to the well-worn paths. My flight instructor, however, took me off the beaten - and paved, for that matter - road a few miles short of Chromo. I intend to repeat his trek tomorrow.
I mean, it's not as if I can expect to go shopping or anything.
Cheers...
