As you may have guessed, my first travels in life were via my mother's wheelchair on her lap. Or, in the Ford V-8 that my parents bought when first married and lost during The Great Depression. "At first you wouldn't go to sleep without your father driving you around the block," extolled mother. Of course I remember adventures via the old Hudson with a stick-shift that often came loose from the floor and a headliner hanging in shreds later on Traveling on narrow mountain roads or going through town after town on the way to the Pacific Ocean, the Giant Redwoods or Mexico stretched my mind more and more. But guess what really gave me something to think about.
Flying of course! On my eighth birthday, on a bright sunny morning, father surprised both me and my cousin Eddie by taking us to Chino Airport. He had arranged for a flight in a small bi-plane piloted by a young man who did stunt-flying for a living. Once tightly strapped in the rear seat on either side of father the plane took off and from that moment on Eddie and I hovered at the side windows absolutely in awe of people and places growing smaller by the minute. Mother was waving from the car window below and was soon out of sight as we tumbled over and over through the air, swooshing down close to the ground then up, up again into the sky. Never had a thought of fear since father was beside me and neither Eddie or me let out a sound. Neither of us wanted the plane to land, but the hour of fun was over and must have cost a lot. It was my only birthday present that year and the very best one I ever had.
As you might know, this was the travel seed that was planted and grew, and grew so that eventually I had the opportunity to travel across this country, travel around the world and be a passenger in just about every air vehicle both private, commercial and military. Such a wonderful life of travel yet to tell.
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