Night Flights with Friends

For the ground based folks a broke-down car brings about frustration and stress.  My car hasn't moved from it's parking spot in front of my house since the last week of April.  I've managed to get from here to there with the help of friends and family.

Friday evening I hitched a ride to the airport to put wind under the wings of the Traveler and set out to Seminole, OK (SRE) for a few days of visiting with friends.  The flight to Seminole is a "quick hop" from Norman.  I took my time and enjoyed the soft skies of the night that reminded me of a perfectly paved interstate.  I trimmed for cruise climb and wound the dial up to "three point five".  Central Oklahoma is a canvas of lights that represent everything from oil rigs searching for their gold to the small farm house in the middle of thousands of acres.  The seat I had was spectacular and I took it all in with much amazement, just like hundreds of times before.

Seven clicks on 122.80 and the grand finale burst out before my eyes.  I was witnessing the light show that late-night pilots get free of charge every time they fly. "Seminole Traffic, Grumman eight eight lima, final one-six , Seminole".  Before I knew it I was locked in with one white and two red and the last notch of flaps slowly rolling down. The second light of the VASI was out so I hung on at the edge of slighly high and on glideslope.  Seconds later I touched down just after the numbers and taxiied to the main ramp.

A beautiful Bonanza sat next to the fuel pumps with chockfree tires and no tiedown in sight.  Perhaps it would be piloted later that night by a low time commercial pilot on a ferry flight across the nation seeking to build time or maybe a doctor who was in town visiting with high school friends from years before.  The old terminal, with a light on the corner, was beautiful in every sense except to a modern architect.  The building had stood for years it seemed.  Just under the rotating beacon, that couldn't seem to get enough energy to shine bright, sat an older 182 with the light from the terminal providing a night light for the sleeping Continental under the cowling.  I didn't get her numbers, but she looked a little lonely so I decided to park the Traveler there along side her.  After being around airplanes more than the everyday citizen you begin to think of airplanes as individuals rather than machines with a seat for their operator.

The night was beautiful and I had just finished a perfect night flight that completed the sixth page of my logbook.