I'm Sorry for Not Writing Sooner, , , blah, blah, blah
It's funny how all of my posts seem to begin with an apology for not blogging sooner, and a promise that it won't happen again. So, I won't let you down: I am sorry for not writing sooner and I promise to not let that happen again, but this time. . . I MEAN IT!
The season is practically over; our last scheduled appearance will be on November 9 and 10 in Pensacola, Florida, home of the Blue Angels. Though we will miss our annual Las Vegas trip to Aviation Nation at Nellis Air Force Base, home of the Thunderbirds, we are excited to make our debut with the Angels.
However, there is so much I need to fill you in on. . .
On September 11th, we made our return to the Reno Air Races, always a thrill. But this year, on the sixth anniversary of the horrific tragedy that shook New Yorkers forever, the crisp chill in the air was not only reminiscent, but it was a foreshadowing of fatalities to come.
On Tuesday evening, the dreaded sound of a deep thud filled the eerie quiet of the desert. The distant sound of sirens followed . . . a pilot and his biplane were down.
On Thursday, two other crashes occurred when the L39's were up, leaving one of the pilots dead.
And on Friday, there was a mid-air collision during the Formula One light plane race; the result, another pilot died.
To add insult to injury, on Friday afternoon, during a Saab demonstration, two brand new Saabs collided!
There were hushed whispers that the FAA would put an end to this 44 year old event. Ardent fans were crushed. It was argued that though there is an element of danger in any racing, in air racing, you have nothing but the hard ground to hit. And because it is always a well-attended spectator sport, no one wants to see someone else die. However, my take is, since we are lucky enough to live in a free country, choice IS an option.
After the races, we were eager to attend the long awaited P-51 reunion, The Gathering of Mustangs and Legends, to be held at the Rickenbacker International Airport in Columbus, Ohio. This was an event we had long anticipated, but were somewhat dubious as to whether or not it would actually take place. It was originally planned for 2005 at Reno, but politics, logistics, etc., etc., etc., put it on hold.
Upon our arrival and our first look at the vendor lay-out, we were filled with misgivings. We, along with our vendor associates, were placed at the back end of the airport; visibility was not an option. Seventeen years of airshow experience is a pretty good teacher; to be placed so far from the flightline would be disastrous! Besides, our spot prevented us from enjoying the show!
Despite our first somber impressions, the show truly was an historic event. In addition to unexpected soaring sales, we were privileged to see more P-51's together than most people see in a lifetime. Albeit the Thunderbirds flew, there is nothing like the sound of those Mustangs! One of our customers summed it best when he said, with tears in his eyes, "My God, they're back and I have lived to see it!"
Our next venture was Miramar; home of our wonderfully brave marines. Miramar is one of the most exciting shows of the season, between their magnificent fireworks display on Saturday night, is followed by the incredible "Wall of Fire." This year was no exception, though I must say that some of the attendees were a bit disappointed in having the Thunderbirds, not the Blue Angels, at their base. As you know, the comradery between the Air Force and the Marines is rather forced. The Navy has always been closely associated with the Marines, and the Army with the Air Force.
Despite that political faux pas, the show was great, but . . . just a few days after our return, the horrific fires occurred. San Diego is one of the most beautiful places on God's Earth, one of the most volatile, as well. Our hearts and prayers go out to all of our California friends.
I was lucky enough to fly home after Miramar, but poor Warren was still on the road - this time to Valdosta, Georgia, home of the Moody Air Force. Despite the warm, southern hospitality one is always met with, and the exciting show that always ensues, Warren was feeling the thousands of miles he had pedaled to the metal, and chose to come home for a few days of R and R.
After what seemed like hours, (it was actually 5 days) Warren packed up, yet again, and George (our lovable 235 pound Newfoundland) and I waved good-bye. He hit the southern route again, this time to Randolph, Texas. I WILL keep you posted!
The season is practically over; our last scheduled appearance will be on November 9 and 10 in Pensacola, Florida, home of the Blue Angels. Though we will miss our annual Las Vegas trip to Aviation Nation at Nellis Air Force Base, home of the Thunderbirds, we are excited to make our debut with the Angels.
However, there is so much I need to fill you in on. . .
On September 11th, we made our return to the Reno Air Races, always a thrill. But this year, on the sixth anniversary of the horrific tragedy that shook New Yorkers forever, the crisp chill in the air was not only reminiscent, but it was a foreshadowing of fatalities to come.
On Tuesday evening, the dreaded sound of a deep thud filled the eerie quiet of the desert. The distant sound of sirens followed . . . a pilot and his biplane were down.
On Thursday, two other crashes occurred when the L39's were up, leaving one of the pilots dead.
And on Friday, there was a mid-air collision during the Formula One light plane race; the result, another pilot died.
To add insult to injury, on Friday afternoon, during a Saab demonstration, two brand new Saabs collided!
There were hushed whispers that the FAA would put an end to this 44 year old event. Ardent fans were crushed. It was argued that though there is an element of danger in any racing, in air racing, you have nothing but the hard ground to hit. And because it is always a well-attended spectator sport, no one wants to see someone else die. However, my take is, since we are lucky enough to live in a free country, choice IS an option.
After the races, we were eager to attend the long awaited P-51 reunion, The Gathering of Mustangs and Legends, to be held at the Rickenbacker International Airport in Columbus, Ohio. This was an event we had long anticipated, but were somewhat dubious as to whether or not it would actually take place. It was originally planned for 2005 at Reno, but politics, logistics, etc., etc., etc., put it on hold.
Upon our arrival and our first look at the vendor lay-out, we were filled with misgivings. We, along with our vendor associates, were placed at the back end of the airport; visibility was not an option. Seventeen years of airshow experience is a pretty good teacher; to be placed so far from the flightline would be disastrous! Besides, our spot prevented us from enjoying the show!
Despite our first somber impressions, the show truly was an historic event. In addition to unexpected soaring sales, we were privileged to see more P-51's together than most people see in a lifetime. Albeit the Thunderbirds flew, there is nothing like the sound of those Mustangs! One of our customers summed it best when he said, with tears in his eyes, "My God, they're back and I have lived to see it!"
Our next venture was Miramar; home of our wonderfully brave marines. Miramar is one of the most exciting shows of the season, between their magnificent fireworks display on Saturday night, is followed by the incredible "Wall of Fire." This year was no exception, though I must say that some of the attendees were a bit disappointed in having the Thunderbirds, not the Blue Angels, at their base. As you know, the comradery between the Air Force and the Marines is rather forced. The Navy has always been closely associated with the Marines, and the Army with the Air Force.
Despite that political faux pas, the show was great, but . . . just a few days after our return, the horrific fires occurred. San Diego is one of the most beautiful places on God's Earth, one of the most volatile, as well. Our hearts and prayers go out to all of our California friends.
I was lucky enough to fly home after Miramar, but poor Warren was still on the road - this time to Valdosta, Georgia, home of the Moody Air Force. Despite the warm, southern hospitality one is always met with, and the exciting show that always ensues, Warren was feeling the thousands of miles he had pedaled to the metal, and chose to come home for a few days of R and R.
After what seemed like hours, (it was actually 5 days) Warren packed up, yet again, and George (our lovable 235 pound Newfoundland) and I waved good-bye. He hit the southern route again, this time to Randolph, Texas. I WILL keep you posted!
posted by Airborn at 3:09 PM
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