Dispatch from 1V0, Navajo Lake State Park, New Mexico: The wind howls through Race 53’s twin tails. A high-pitched whine. Ghosts shrieking.
Her wings rock back and forth, straining against the tie-down straps. The sky above is an evil dark grey-green. Fast-moving ash-grey clouds scuttle across the horizon.
The rain comes in waves, never stopping. Sometimes it’s light, creating an alligator-skin pattern of beaded water on my windshield. Sometimes it’s car wash-heavy, blocking any view of the outside world as it pounds on the Plexiglas dome above my head.
It’s cold. I’m cold. [Read more…]