The kid’s pace slowed as the tree line fell behind, the green grass of the airport coming into view. Pedaling slower while steering the bike off the main thoroughfare and onto the little used service road, the kid’s eyes scanned the grounds.
Beyond the chain link fence, the Do Not Enter signs, and the undeveloped buffer that lay between the rest of the world and the runway, there were rows of hangars.
Some of the hangars were small. Just big enough to fit a single airplane inside. A few of the doors of these smaller hangars stood open, their tenants milling about nearby as they rolled aircraft in, or out, or washed a layer of earthbound grime or formerly airborne insects off the painted surfaces.
Another kid, not much older than the one on the bike, wiped a chromed propeller blade with a bright yellow cloth. An adult, maybe the lucky kid’s father or grandfather, wiped the opposing blade with a similar looking piece of fabric.
The kid envied that youthful counterpart, even if he was doing a required chore. He was touching an airplane. A real airplane. One that flies and everything. [Read more…]