IT WAS NEW Year's Day, and my wife and I had spent a few days with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids in Tucson, Arizona. I had made the flight from Tucson to Hayward, California, and our home in the San Francisco Bay, many times before-I guess in hindsight that had made me a bit complacent. The weather over the Mojave Desert is usually dry and warm, and the winds light. That morning I looked at the weather, as usual, and a cold front was heading toward Tucson, but I concluded the flight would be OK. The cold front was heading east from the Pacific coast, but most of the precipitation was over Palm Springs, California, and Phoenix, and the track we would be on would take us between the severe weather-or so I thought. This was my first mistake; I should have paid more attention.
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