You are full of shit, being a pilot is essentially being whatever the opposite of an aphrodisiac is to women.Oh and being a young man I must mention that the girls really dig it when they find out Im a pilot
Go sell crazy someplace else.
Why do you fly?
Moderators: sky's the limit, sepia, Sulako, lilfssister, North Shore, I WAS Birddog
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Bravo!
In the business world, the rearview mirror is always clearer than the windshield...W. Buffett-
flynbutcher
- Rank 5
- Posts: 319
- Joined: Sun Sep 05, 2004 6:19 pm
- Location: 867-5309
Stretched out beneath the wing of my airplane, I sleep, but wake later in the cold of the night. Above me the sky is moving its fresh cold dark silent way to its own secret horizons.
I have watched the sky for hours uncounted and followed it, and have crossed horizons with it, and still have not begun to tire. The everchanging, fascinating sky.
The airplane, of course, is the key. It makes the sky accessible. As astronomy without a telescope can be uninteresting, so the sky without an airplane. One can watch only so much before he is sated, but when he can participate, when he can move himself through the halls of cloud in the day and travel from star to star in the night, then he can watch with knowing, and does not have to imagine what it would be like to walk those halls and those stars.
With an airplane, he can learn to know the sky as an old friend, and to smile when he sees it. No prodding the memory nor need to keep reminders. A glance through a window, a walk along a crowded or along a secluded street, at noon or at midnight. The sky of now is always here, moving; and we, watching, share a part of its secret.
RB
I have watched the sky for hours uncounted and followed it, and have crossed horizons with it, and still have not begun to tire. The everchanging, fascinating sky.
The airplane, of course, is the key. It makes the sky accessible. As astronomy without a telescope can be uninteresting, so the sky without an airplane. One can watch only so much before he is sated, but when he can participate, when he can move himself through the halls of cloud in the day and travel from star to star in the night, then he can watch with knowing, and does not have to imagine what it would be like to walk those halls and those stars.
With an airplane, he can learn to know the sky as an old friend, and to smile when he sees it. No prodding the memory nor need to keep reminders. A glance through a window, a walk along a crowded or along a secluded street, at noon or at midnight. The sky of now is always here, moving; and we, watching, share a part of its secret.
RB
