For over 50 years, I have eagerly awaited each issue of Flying. While I subscribe at home now, back then, the trip to the drugstore was a hopeful quest to buy the latest issue. At Beaumont Municipal [in Texas,] I used to bum rides with Gordon Baxter's flying buddies, those fortunate enough to own their own 172s or taildraggers. Envious looks-or my polishing job [on an airplane] to achieve just the right shine-usually garnered an invite to ride along. Lying on the grass, looking upward when I heard the unmistakable sound of a Trans-Texas DC-3-headed north to Dallas-kept my dreams of flying alive. My love for airplanes most likely puts me in the group of your readers who are not pilots- perhaps because of what we read in Peter Garrison's Aftermath column, or self-doubt, or the financial burden. Regardless, anything aviation has a firm draw that will always be there for me and others.
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