Sometime in the last century, I was a stereotypical airport kid. In those hal cyon days, I used to ride my bicycle down to America's oldest continu-ously operating airport at College Park, Md., and just hang out, marveling at the wide variety of airplanes and their pilots as they came and went. I went on to join the Civil Air Patrol as a cadet after moving to Anchorage, Alaska, at age 13; flew a few-dozen flight-hours on search-and-rescue missions (all search and no rescue); and eventually managed to earn a license.rnSadly, general aviation has changed dramatically in the last 40 years. Security concerns have made it extremely difficult for kids to simply hang out at airports, absorbing the wonderful folklore of aviation and learning from the old pelicans by simple osmosis. These days, airport kids are noticeably absent. Except at places like Flabob Airport in Riverside, Calif.
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