Step right up and join TSA!

Step right up, folks!

Bullied as a young person growing up in your middle-class neighborhood?

Ridiculed in the gym locker room because of underdeveloped/non-developed reproductive organs?

Failed your ACT or SAT tests?

Unfit for military duty?

Is your IQ the average of that of a wilting houseplant?

Do you have strong leanings towards sexual predation?

Unable to pass a bonafide background check?

Are you otherwise unemployable in this age of Obama?

Have zero concept of Constitutional freedoms, in particular the Fourth Amendment?

NO WORRIES!

Join TSA, where our motto is: "The worse you are, the better we become!"

You can thank our absolutely gutless elected officials, going back to George W Bush and his stupid-assed Patriot Act and creation of the Department of Homeland Security, for this travesty.

They did, after all, have the option of bombing the terrorist back into the Stone Age, allowing passengers to fly armed, profiling terrorists instead of toddlers and 87-year-old grandmothers in wheelchairs.

Like I said, GUTLESS elected officials.

But I'm convinced the majority of America doesn't care.

Who's on American Idol tonight?

I found America this past weekend.

Some folks in Natchitoches, Louisiana invited me to an EAA (Experimental Aviation Association) fly-in, dinner and shooting get-together at the local range--and they asked me to bring some books to sell and sign.

Let's think about this for a minute. Airplanes (I'm an EAA and AOPA member), guns, Louisiana cooking and the opportunity to make new friends.

I'm in.

I loaded up the Cessna after lunch on Friday, waited until the heat of the day was peaking, made sure headwinds would be at their strongest and departed. (Pilots understand how conditions rarely favor you on outbound legs of trips.)

ATC had me on a departure route west of Fort Worth. I'm always amazed--and dismayed--at how big Cowtown has become.

To the immediate west of my heading was the Fort Worth Joint Naval Air Station. Us local pilots have learned to keep a wary eye out for the Navy jocks. They have a difficult time reading "2,500" on their altimeters--which is the minimum altitude they are required to fly on inbound approach from the north.

Remember: They have parachutes and we don't.

It's always a relief to be clear of ANY class bravo airspace, and even though DFW is home and I know it like I know all the weeds in my backyard, it's always good to have it behind you.

It was 102F when I cranked up and took off. This was to be a VFR trip, so I'd filed for 7500'. Naturally, there was a cloud layer at 7500' and just as naturally, there was one at 5500' so I had a choice: fly at 3500' msl and sweat and get bounced around, or climb above it all.

Took me no time at all to decide, and I snapped this picture as I was clearing 9000' msl. At altitude, the outside air temperature (OAT) was actually in the low 40's. Nice calm and cool skies from that point on eastward.

Looking down at Tyler, Texas--one of my favorite east Texas towns.

It was hot, humid and hazy down below, but that is Toledo Bend Reservoir--the largest enclosed body of water in Texas and it sits on the border between us and Louisiana. Long, big lake.

They have a fantastic airport at Natchitoches (KIER) with first-class people operating it. Here, I've got the bird unloaded and tucked in for the weekend.

Saturday morning, my host, Ben Rushing, asks me if I want to see Louisiana as seen from one of the coolest bi-planes in the universe--a Hiperbipe. He even foolishly let me fly it. Said he needed to get his heart rate up a bit for the day.

View from the front office of the Hiperbipe.

Cheated Death once again and brought a heavier-than-air flying machine safely to the ground.

Here is a beautiful Taylorcraft that showed up for the fly-in. Flying doesn't get much more fun than in these fabric airplanes.

Then there was the Stearman. When you combine the old low and slow fabric birds with bi-planes, you get the classic Stearman. Of course, that big radial engine up front stays constantly thirsty.

After the birds had all come in Saturday morning, there was fellowship and hangar flying and food. A huge swamp cooler had been set up in the hangar along with a lot of long tables.

Some of my Louisiana gun buddies and readers had driven over for the festivities and we had some great conversations. Other attendees sitting at our big long table chimed in. Between us all, we solved the issue of Obamacare--just get rid of Obama and every son of a bitch that voted for it.

We fixed all gun control problems--toss out every son of a bitch that doesn't understand the Second Amendment or who doesn't like it.

Illegal immigration was solved rather easily--pistols began appearing and we admired each other's hardware. I saw some really NICE purse pistols from the ladies. Of course, this also solved the petty crime problems.

Imagine that, a bunch of good southerners gathered together and in less than half an hour, we'd solved 90% of our nation's ills just like that.

How long does it take those dumb asses in Washington, and then they still don't get it right? In fact, they make it worse.

Maybe they need to start attending more fly-ins and book-signings and shooting range events.

At the shooting range in Natchitoches, any remaining problems that we faced in America were dispatched in fine fashion and with a variety of calibers and firearms. We had some poker targets, but we were all too old to see the cards printed on them and had to keep moving closer just to tell the Ace of Spades from the Ten of Clubs.

At least, that was my excuse. Must've left my reading glasses back at the airport. . .

As with all good things, after all the books had been sold and signed and addresses and e-mails and phone numbers exchanged, it was time to head back to the airport to load up the plane and return back home.

On most trips, I look forward to getting back home. On this trip, I wanted to stay.

I'd rediscovered America.

America is in our small towns. The fruits of freedom are often found in large scale in the big cities like Dallas and New York and Los Angeles, but the engine that drives America, the backbone that keeps us free and safe, the morals and values that MAKE us America. . . they're found in ample abundance in Small Town, USA.

Maybe we should reverse how we elect representatives and give more weight (ie more seats in the House) to the rural areas, and less for the urban areas.

More country folks up in Washington, and we'd have these problems licked.

It was something to think about as I flew into the sunset.

Flying, signing, eating and shooting, Louisiana style.

Packing up the airplane and heading east this afternoon to Natchitoches, Louisiana.

One of my book readers has put together a shindig and it includes a fly-in, Louisiana food, a book-signing and a get-together at the shooting range on Saturday, June 30th.

As he explains it, "anytime in the South when a few good folks get together, you just know there are going to be some great times to be had along with some serious truth-stretching come story-telling time."

Pass the cornbread.

Here is the Saturday itinerary for anyone in the neighborhood:

• Fly-in is at the Natchitoches airport (KIER) and folks will be flying in beginning around 0900 through mid-morning.

• Lunch and a book-signing will be around 11:30 (ish--everything in Texas and the South is on "ish" time. That's how we do things.)

• Shooting and more book-signing at the local range begins at 2:00 p.m.

• Probably some more truth-stretching throughout the afternoon until around 5:00 or 6:00.

More information can be found here.

I was at the hangar today topping off the bird with fuel and doing a thorough pre-flight. In this heat, I want to be in the air as fast as I can. That means load up the plane, roll her out of the hangar, get strapped in, check everything over one more time from inside the cockpit before spinning the prop, do my pre-start checklist and pre-takeoff checklist together, flip the master switch, turn the key and crank 'er up.

As soon as I see oil-pressure indication, slip the brakes and taxi to the run up area. My pre-takeoff physical checklist will be done on the roll--controls, instruments, gas, trim, flaps. Runup will be the last thing, then takeoff. I'll set my radios and frequencies and GPS units while in the air.

As Murphy's Law pointed out a day or two ago, with an air-cooled engine, the ground is NOT where you want to be on a hot day. I want to be in the air with some nice 100kt breezes flowing into the engine cowlings and keeping my cylinders nice and comfortable as well as keeping my oil temp out of the red.

It's going to be hot and bumpy until I get to altitude. It's a relatively short trip (230nm) and weather forecast is for hot and clear so I'll go VFR and climb to 7500 and see how comfortable that is.

Taking my camera, a few guns, lots of books and the joy and knowledge that a weekend spent with folks who love guns and airplanes always promises to be a fantastic time.

If you're in the neighborhood Saturday, drop on by.

Semper Fi to a 12-year-old warrior.

(This week is Memorial Day week. As a veteran, I'm not satisfied with having just one day to observe an ever-growing list of friends, buddies and patriots who gave all in defense of Freedom.

As the percentage of those of us who stepped up to the plate and served our nation and fellow citizens now falls below a paltry 1.5%, I and other vets continue to salute, admire and praise the present and next generations of warriors who offer a blank check up to the people of the United States for an amount of up to and including their life, in defense of this nation.

Today's post was sent to me via Facebook and it exemplifies the honor, commitment and duty still present in the greatest fighting force the world has ever known, the United States Marine Corps.

Click on the link to The Blacksphere. I think you'll find these are our kind of people. American patriots from all walks of life.

--AOA


Every now and then, in the middle of the constant barrage of crap that’s just pissing us all off these days, we come across a story, a feat, an event that just makes us stop in our tracks. This was one for me.

Cody Green was a 12-year kid in Indiana who was diagnosed with leukemia at 22 months old. He loved the Marines, and his parents said he drew strength and courage from the Marine Corps. as ...he bravely fought the battle into remission three times. Although he was cancer-free at the time, the chemotherapy had lowered his immune system and he developed a fungus infection that attacked his brain. Two weeks ago, as he struggled to fend off that infection in the hospital, the Marines wanted to show how much they respected his will to live, his strength, honor and courage. They presented Cody with Marine navigator wings and named him an honorary member of the United States Marine Corps. For one Marine, that wasn’t enough ... so that night, before Cody Green passed away, he took it upon himself to stand guard at Cody’s hospital door all night long, 8 hours straight.

Nowhere on the face of this planet is there a country so blessed as we to have men and women such as this. I wish I could personally tell this Marine how proud he makes me to be an American. God ... I do so love this country.

~~Lori Boxer for The Blacksphere

Definitely sexist. Definitly not safe for work. You've been warned.

OK, so I'm a retired ad agency creative guy.

I could only wish that we'd had a client this agile and with this kind of a budget for something that had to have been pure fun to shoot and produce.

Over the years, I wrote and produced a lot of television and radio commercials, but this is the kind that upon completion and airing, I would've instantly retired because nothing is going to top it.

We did open up major offices in London and Paris, but European advertising is vastly different from North American advertising, as you're about to see.

Warning: Sexist and NOT SAFE for work. (My wife thought it was hilarious, though.)

Fleggaard television ad.

Enjoy.

If you are one, you will relate to this.

The year is 2016 and the United States has just elected the first woman president. A few days after the election the president-elect, whose name is Debra, calls her father and says, "So, Dad, I assume you will be coming to my inauguration?"

"I don't think so. It's a 10 hour drive."

"Don 't worry about it Dad, I'll send Air Force One. And a limousine will pick you up at your door."

"I don't know. Everybody will be so fancy. What would your mother wear?"

"Oh Dad," replies Debra, 'I'll make sure she has a wonderful gown custom-made by the best designer in Washington ."

"Honey," Dad complains, "you know I can't eat those rich foods you eat."

The President-to-be responds, " Don 't worry Dad. The entire affair will be handled by the best caterer in Washington ; I'll ensure your meals are salt free. You and mom just have to be there."

So Dad reluctantly agrees, and on January 20, 2017, Debra is being sworn in as President of the United States . In the front row sits the new president's dad and mom.

Dad, noticing the senator sitting next to him, leans over and whispers, "You see that woman over there with her hand on the Bible, becoming President of the United States ."

The Senator whispers back, "You bet I do."

Dad says proudly, "Her brother is a Pilot!"

Flying the dragon.

I know a number of readers here have seen the world outside of the United States, and I think many will agree with my favorite sentiment:

It's not the people of other countries I necessarily have a problem with, it's the governments of other countries that I have a problem with.

United States government being at or near the top of the list.

I've also often said that if the time came to leave North America, my first choice would probably be Asia.

I have no problems with the Chinese people, mainland, Hong Kong or Taiwan. No problems with the Japanese, the Koreans, Thais, Cambodians, Laotians, Malaysians, Filipinos, Vietnamese.

At no time have I ever been treated other than graciously and with utmost respect and honor in their cultures.

The same cannot be said of experiences in Paris or Washington DC or Quebec.

Radical religions, extremist government ruin people. Of course, those institutions are led by extremist people.

Every crowd seems to have them.

But check out this video. It's breathtaking and exhilarating. The scenery is captivating and truly awesome. It will put a smile on your face.

Most of all, though, look at the Chinese people enjoying the experience. They're just like you and me. You can see the working class people, the smiles on their face for enjoying some time away from the house and the job. The students on the bridge, youthful innocence filled with passion and hope.

I'm an American. I love my country. I served it in uniform, and defended it from behind a badge. But it's the people, our spirit, our history--brief as it may be compared to most other countries--that I defend and not our government.

At the end of the day, we all have the same hopes and dreams.

Share this video. It's a good reminder that although language, looks and culture may separate us, our hearts are interchangeable.

Never forget that.

$100 BBQ Ribs.

Decided to pretty much take the afternoon off and crank up the Cessna for a trip south to Granbury, Texas.

Granbury is one of our favorite fly-in places. Lots of courtesy cars at the airport and the town insists on paying for the gas. Good fuel prices for the airplanes, too.

Lots to do in Granbury. They have a live theater that'll knock your knickers right off, plus a musical production that is other-worldly. The town square always has something going on and my wife's favorite handmade and custom furniture store just happens to be a slight boot-scoot off the square.

There's an old-fashioned drug store where they mix up your malts and milkshakes the way God intended them to be made and they use Texas' own Blue Bell ice cream.

Hungry? Good golly Miss Molly there is no shortage of places to eat--and almost all of them are local or family-owned. Our kind of places.

Decided to hit a BBQ joint today. For you yankees, a BBQ joint looks like this:

A Texas BBQ joint is usually situated on the outskirts of town, housed in an old building that sometimes looks like it's falling apart, or in the case of The Rib Shack, where Mama put out some trinkets and flowers so as not scare off the city folks from Dallas or Fort Worth or the idiots from Austin.

There's cold beer inside, a big screen TV, old-fashioned tables with plastic checker tablecloths (or sometimes just plain ol' butcher's paper), a condiments bar, and a serve-yourself soda fountain.

And BBQ. Heaping, helping mounds of slow-smoked, succulent, hand-rubbed pork ribs, brisket, sausage, ham and chicken. Jalopena peppers, cayenne peppers and spices keep the beer cold and flowing. Homemade pies and cobblers.

Heaven.

Here are a couple more shots of The Rib Shack. Should you ever find yourself in Granbury, Texas, this place is a must for you to visit. THE best ribs I've had any where in the entire United States. Bar absolutely none.

The flight back home was pleasant and I was racing the sun, but lost and ended up using the nav lights and landing lights on arrival. That's what they're there for, and why I stay night current.

Oh well. That's also what makes a spur-of-the-moment flying trip for a hundred-dollar-hamburger so fun. Or in this case, hundred-dollar-ribs.

Here are a few more pics from the trip home.

Enjoy.

Light surface winds, late fall changing colors, and only a few minutes left before sundown gives Lake Worth a calm, beautiful look.

Power lines are almost obscured by the fall foliage as the late afternoon sun lights up these cliffs on a nearby lake.

I'm a sucker for small town high school stadiums seen from the air. Aledo High's football season is over, the stadium is quiet while it waits on the Friday night lights of the 2012 season.

Looking out the starboard side, Naval Air Station Fort Worth can be seen just beyond the bridge that crosses Lake Worth. Beyond the air station to the far left side of the picture, downtown Fort Worth.

Heading northbound and getting closer to home. What a great day for flying.

The living, breathing epitome of an asshole.

The queen of pissant slobs (Michael Moore is the king) got his fat-slob but tossed off an American Airlines flight today.

I've always liked American Airlines.

Alec Baldwin got tossed because the arrogant SOB refused to turn off his iPad before takeoff.

He refused because he was playing a video game.

But, Baldwin being Baldwin, he does what he does best (besides menstruating during a self-made crisis): He took to Twitter and twitted and tweeted and twooted and twerped all day long about the injustice of American Airlines and how the flight attendants were all Catholic School nun rejects from the 50's, etc etc.

Has this asshole looked in the mirror in the last ten years? He's not one to be ragging ANYONE on their looks, physical shape, personality or anything else associated with the human race.

Someone needs to kick this guy's ass into orbit.

Better yet, kick him in the balls and see if he files a sexual harassment suit.

But once again, he's another liberal who has no balls. . .

Unmarried marriage counselors running our government

It's always been a favorite expression of mine and I use it to describe the sheer incompetency of typical management in top-heavy bureaucracies, corporations and organizations.

Perhaps no organization epitomizes this better than the Federal Aviation Administration.

I have some business with them and was trying to trace down the number of the specific "in-charge" administrator I need to talk to. He's a helluva good guy, helluva good pilot and very good at what he does for the FAA, which deals with pilots.

Having worked for the government myself (Department of Justice), I knew the routine--find a main office, grab a number and start calling and asking each de-successive person for the number of the next de-successive person until you get the person you need.

This technique works incredibly well in the government because just as shit rolls downhill, there is nothing a bureaucrat loves more than passing a problem on to the next person below them. That seems to empower them.

Finally, I get the number I'm looking for, but while I was on hold each of the de-successive six times working my way down the typical government flow chart, I got on the internet and looked up the regional directors and read their bios.

Now, keep in mind that in the FAA, the second "A" stands for AVIATION. That means pilots. It means airplanes. People who fly airplanes. People who work on airplanes. People who facilitate airplanes and those who fly them, fly on them and work on them at places called AIRPORTS.

With that in mind, here is the bio of the Southwest Regional director or ringmaster or whatever you want to call her. Note that in the bio, you will see no mention of her credentials as a pilot, air traffic controller, engineer, mechanic, flight surgeon (medical) or anything like that.

What you'll see is what really matters to the government: Diversity and bureaucratic bullshit, of which this woman has a mountain of.

Read for yourself:

In September 2007, Jane Doe was appointed to serve as the Regional Administrator.

In November 2006, she was appointed to serve as the Deputy Regional Administrator for FAA’s Southwest Region headquartered in Fort Worth. The Southwest Region encompasses Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and New Mexico. In this capacity, she assisted the Regional Administrator in maintaining oversight and appraising overall mission accomplishments for this 4,600-person region. Additional responsibilities include interfacing with industry, the public and Congressional offices and other government agencies at the regional level. In addition she served as the Regional Emergency Transportation Coordinator for the Department of Transportation, Region VI.

Prior to this appointment, she served as Regional Executive Manager, managing and directing the daily operations of regional headquarters personnel in logistics, financial and information management, operations center, executive staff, charter program office, and runway incursions.

Prior to these assignments, Ms. Doe was Division Manager, Human Resource Management Division, FAA Southwest Region, for 10 years. In this position, she served on many national level teams and actively promoted programs within Human Resource Management Division and the FAA for hiring and career advance for people with disabilities and people of color.

And people wonder what is wrong with our country today? Look who the hell we have administering to our infrastructure! It's no wonder we have a gazillion-trillion dollar debt.

With bozos like this running this large of a region of just ONE of a myriad of government offices, you're going to have problems. I seriously doubt this woman knows the difference between a tampon and a pitot tube or a departure stall versus a power-off stall, but she is administering almost five-thousand other federal aviation staffers, of which I'll also wager that less than a fifth know a damn thing about airplanes, flying them, fixing them, etc.

The bad thing is that at our general aviation airport, I'm constantly running into recently separated military types--pilots and mechanics and controllers, etc--who would love to transfer their military skills and experience into the FAA.

When I ask them how the application process is going, almost every single one of them in the past ten years has thrown up their hands and basically said, "Screw the FAA," and then gone on to work for the airlines or elsewhere in the private sector.

Is it really any wonder, with this head-up-the-ass mentality that we, as a nation, are where we are in the arena of absolute government incompetence.

If you still don't believe me, just take a look at our Chief Executive.

He's the biggest unmarried marriage counselor in the nation.

Whores and hockey players.

A man in a Florida supermarket tries to buy half a head of lettuce. The very young produce assistant tells him they only sell whole heads of lettuce.

The man gets huffy and persistent and demands to see the manager.

The boy says he'll ask his manager about it. Walking to the back of the store, he finds his manager and said, "Some asshole wants to buy half a head of lettuce."

As he finished, he turned around to find the man standing right behind him, so he added, "And this gentleman has kindly offered to buy the other half."

The manager approved the deal and the man went on his way.

Afterwards, the manager said to the boy, "I was impressed with the way you got yourself out of that situation earlier. We like people who can think on their feet around here. Where are you from, son?"

"Canada, sir," the boy replied.

"Well, why did you leave Canada?" the manager asked.

The boy looked at the manager and said, "Sir, there's nothing but whores and hockey players up there."

"Really?" said the manager. "My wife is from Canada."

"No shit?" replied the boy. "Who'd she play for?"

# # #

Old Guys Are Helpful

I was in Lowe's the other day pushing my cart around when I collided with a young guy pushing his cart.

I said to the young guy, "Sorry about that.  I'm looking for my wife and I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

The young guy says, "That's OK. It's a coincidence.  I'm looking for my wife, too. I can't find her and I'm getting a little desperate."

I said, "Well, maybe we can help each other.  What does your wife look like?"

The young guy says, "Well, she is 24 years old,  tall, with blond hair, big blue eyes, long legs, big
boobs, and she's wearing tight white shorts, a halter top and no bra. What does your wife look like?"

I said, "Doesn't matter --- let's look for yours."

Most old guys are helpful like that. 

# # #

When Fighter Pilots Retire

A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar. Stinking of whisky and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender. "I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4 driver and a Colonel in the Air Force but when they retired the Phantom they cashiered me, as well. So I learned to play the piano."

The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano player and business was falling off. So, the barkeep decided to give him a try.

The Colonel staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of sound and music, unlike anyone had heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place.

The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name of the song he had just played.

It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You!" said the Colonel after he took a long pull from the beer. "I wrote it myself."

The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player then went on with a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the applause and told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light." He then excused himself as he lurched to the john.

When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Look Colonel, the job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is hanging out?"

"Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it!"

A date with the Dragonlady of aviation--the U2 spyplane. Breathtaking footage.

A British journalist is offered a ride in a U2, and finds there is simply no way he can even consider saying no to the Air Force.

The following is an excerpt from his report, along with his narrative taken during the flight itself. Fantastic footage and a report well done.

Ride in a U2 Spy Plane

You can see why the U-2 is considered the most difficult plane in the world to fly. Each pilot has a co-pilot, who chases the plane on the runway in a sports car. Most of the cars are either Pontiac GTOs or Chevrolet Cameros — the Air Force buys American. The chase cars talk the pilot down as he lands on bicycle-style landing gear.

In that spacesuit, the pilot in the plane simply cannot get a good view of the runway. Upon takeoff, the wings on this plane, which extend 103 feet from tip to tip, literally flap. To stabilize the wings on the runway, two pogo sticks on wheels prop up the ends of the wings.

As the plane flies away, the pogo sticks drop off. The plane climbs at an amazing rate of nearly 10,000 feet a minute. Within about four minutes, I was at 40,000 feet, higher than any commercial airplane. We kept going up to 13 miles above Earth's surface.

You get an incredible sensation up there. As you look out the windows, it feels like you're floating, it feels like you're not moving, but you're actually going 500 mph.. The U-2 was built to go higher than any other aircraft. In fact today, more than 50 years since it went into production, the U-2 flies higher than any aircraft in the world with the exception of the space shuttle.

It is flying more missions and longer missions than ever before — nearly 70 missions a month over Iraq and Afghanistan , an operational tempo that is unequaled in history. The pilots fly for 11 hours at a time, sometimes more than 11 hours up there alone. By flying so high, the U-2 has the capability of doing reconnaissance over a country without actually violating its airspace. It can look off to the side, peering 300 miles or more inside a country without actually flying over it. It can "see" in the dark and through clouds.

It can also "hear," intercepting conversations 14 miles below. The U-2, an incredible piece of history and also a current piece of high technology, is at the center of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan .

Enjoy the ride! Lockheed U-2 Take A Ride in a Spy Plane, Click the link below.

Living out every little girl's dream.

Can't add a single thing to this.

A drunk steals--and FLIES--a private plane.

That would be the scenario most frightening to a lot of people.

In a great show of aviation and airmanship, with just a little bit of showmanship, a Delta Airlines pilot rushes out of the crowd and into a Piper Cub and away he goes.

The flying is remarkable, the laughs are genuine and what a great time.

Sometimes we all need a little something or the other to smile at.

Enjoy.

Caught in a lie.

A pilot gets home late..............

He left home about 8:30 a.m. to do some work in his hanger at the airport with his friends. On the way out the door he answered his wife's "what time will you be home?" question with "probably about 1:30, I'll have lunch at the airport."

1:30 came & went, 3:00 passed, 6:15, still not home, finally at about 7:00 pm he rolls in the driveway, and presents his wife with a pizza, and begins the apologetic story.

I finished cleaning the plane about 11:30, had lunch, and I started home, when alongside the road I saw this attractive girl with a flat tire on her car. I stopped to help, got the tire changed, and looked around for a place to wash my hands.

She offered money, but I refused, so she suggested that I at least allow her to buy me a beer. She said there's a tavern just up the road, and they have a restroom, you can clean up a bit. I agreed to stop, we had a beer, then another beer, then a couple more, and I realized that this girl was not only pretty, she was very friendly, and a good companion to spend time with.

Before I knew it, we were in the motel next door having sex. And that is why I am so late getting home.

His wife looked him right in the eye and said "don't bullshit me. . .

YOU WENT FLYING, DIDN'T YOU?