FIRST FLIGHT

 

My daughter Joyce’s late husband Alan was a nice guy, but very shy… Hardly ever spoke when I’d visit their place in Jersey City.

For awhile I thought he didn’t like me, or maybe was scared of me.  He was a very quiet guy, impossibly quiet.

One day Joyce phoned to say Alan would very much like to fly with me in my 4-place Beechcraft Sierra.

“He’s never been up in anything smaller than an airliner,” she said.

“How come he never asked me?” I said….

“He’s just too embarrassed to ask, Dad,” she said. “He’s very shy.”

So we set a date and time for me to take him up in the Sierra.

I pulled up at their place in my zippy ‘69 Mazda RX-7 sports car.  Alan got in, a tiny smile, a whispered “hello,” and off we went to Essex County Airport, 25 miles up Interstate 80.

Traffic was bad but we scooted through it easily in that ol’ RX-7.

Not a word the whole drive.

Alan watched silently as I pre-flighted the ol’ Musketeer, then climbed aboard and buckled up at my direction.

Taxi to the active, roll into position, take off, climb…

All in total silence.

Cloudless sky, air smooth as glass.

“That’s Danbury , Connecticut down there,” says I.

Not so much as a nod.

“That’s Warwick , New York .”

Silence.Joyce

Nearing home, “That’s Sussex …”

Anyhow, you get the idea.

Approach, land, taxi, park and tie the plane down.

Still nary a word passed Alan’s lips.

We climbed aboard the little Mazda and shot back down I-80.

He did mumble “thank you” when I dropped him off at home, then he ran into his house.

Two days later my daughter called to tell me how much Alan enjoyed the flight.

“He was really excited, Dad.  Thank you so much for taking him flying.  He loved it.”

“Well, dammit, Joyce.  He didn’t say so much as one word the whole hour we were airborne.  Not a word!  What’s wrong with that guy?”

“Well, Dad, I hate to tell you this – but you scared Alan half to death.  Not in the plane.

You scared him so bad on the drive out and back he swore he’ll never get in a car with you again.”