pr,'"WW". . -irw mnM Zainboiv f ' i & W UlZ Point In Beween. ' CAROL LEMON the nose up, now a little left,' Ben reminded. . . but I didn't do to badly. . . and began to feel just a little like Lindbergh must have felt as he aimed for the shore line of France. But just then, we left the green of the fields and were over the This has been quite a week for me. Had a couple of days vacation in the local Hospital, with lots of rest and TLC. Then a day or so later, as I sat at my desk, someone made me an offer I just couldn't refuse. Ben and Judy Briscoe had just been telling me about Ben receiving re-ceiving his 25 Year Safe Pilot Award. . . "Come on," he coaxed. "Let's go on out to the Airport and I'll take you up. Maybe you can get some good pictures up there." Well, I. . uh. . . don't uh. . know.' I said, thinking back to my first and only flight many years ago pregnant with my first child . and on my way to Alaska. All had gone well on the flight when suddenly the plane lurched and made a sharp list to the right. 'Is the engine supposed to be doing that?' I asked the fellow fel-low sitting next to me. 'My G ! 'It's on fire... The engine's on fire!' he yelled. But the bright red flame soon gave way to heavy black smoke as the engine was feathered. The pale, but smiling stewardess told us to buckle up, for we were near Boise and could make it there OK. . . And we did. But I must admit the butterflies but-terflies returned when I thought of going up again. , "Oh, come on," Ben cajoled. ca-joled. 'The air should be pretty good now. It gets a little rough later in the afternoon." af-ternoon." I looked at the Boss. 'Go ahead,' he said. 'And get some good pictures,' he barked as we went out the door. At the Airport Ben slid the heavy doors apart, attached a little handle to the front wheel, and pulled the plane out onto the runway. 'Looks easy," I thought. . . 'Just like a kid pulling a wagon. But shouldn't' a plane be just a little heavier. . . sturdier. . . ? "Climb In," Ben smiled. Uh. . . OK. Where do you want me? "Oh, I'm not going," said Judy. 'I'll just wait down here. I haven't flown lately." Ben started her up. 'Hm m , doesn't sound much different from my neighbor's lawn-mower,' lawn-mower,' I thought as I struggled strug-gled with my seat belt. "All tucked In?" asked Ben as he checked the dials and gauges. "Old Snoopy there in the window has flown over 200,000 miles with me." "That's encouraging." I told myself. Anything Snoopy can do, I can do too. After receiving the OK from the Airport, we taxied down the runway. "See that sock over there? Tells us the wind Is coming from the southwest, so we've got to keep this wing a little higher than the other one." 'Oh.' I said bravely, clutching my camera tightly tight-ly to my chest. But suddenly we were airborne, air-borne, and as the ground receded re-ceded the plane sort of shim mied and swayed as if it was In the mood to Disco. 'It's getting just a little turbulent," said Ben, reassuringly. re-assuringly. As I watched, we entered an entirely different world. What had been houses, trees, roads and people, became a patchwork quilt of color In gorgeous shades, as wheat fields blended with newly cut fields which bordered on ready to cut fields which abutted bare corners. Ponds and reservoirs reflected all the colors of the rainbow, and the railroad tracks became be-came a tiny ribbon streaming stream-ing away to the North. "It's. . . Why, it's gorgeous!" gor-geous!" I managed to say. "I'll bank to the left so . you can take a picture." And bank he dldl Click the shutter,' I told myself between clenched teeth. . . 'Just click the shutter.' shut-ter.' And surprisingly It was even more lovely in my 'tilted' 'tilt-ed' position. Judy's voice over the radio was reassuring, and I began to enjoy myself. 'Here, want to try it out? said Ben. 'Just take hold of the controls. . . and see those foot pedals. . .' Well, I. . uh. . . OK. and I grabbed the wheel, 'a little more right, keep ft V ' - ' , ' f w- u j heat of the desert. The plane immediately hit a bump... What do you mean WHAT bump? Well, then, an up-draft, up-draft, or a down draft, or something that shook my . faith just a little. 'Here, I gasped. . . 'You'd better take It!' Ben laughed. 'You know it only takes about 10 to 12 hours to learn the basics of flying, he said. 'But after 400 hours you are still learning, learn-ing, and it never stops.'' We flew round the valley, and I felt I was in a different dif-ferent world. We set down too soon, and I was just a little surprised that I had enjoyed it so much. The thought even crossed my mind that I'd love to learn to fly, someday. The airplane has unveiled the true face of the earth. For centuries highways had been deceivingus. For roads shape themselves to man's needs. At first they went from stream to stream, then from farm to farm, then city to city. But once airborne we travel trav-el as the crow flies as the eagle soars. No longer compelled to take this road or that, but with man's puny invention, Sailing the skies. A pilot's business is with the wind and the stars. He waits as expectantly for the first light of dawn, as a Gardner awaits the coming of Spring. He looks forward to Port as to a promised land. . . and truth for him is what he lives and loves in that 'other world'. . . his own private domain, somewhere between the earth and Heaven. Thanks, Ben and Judy. It was great!