My father and I were Atlanta-bound out of Idlewild. We were going to visit family over Thanksgiving. It was 30 September, 1959. I was ten years of age. We boarded an Eastern Air Lines Lockheed L-188 Electra. My father, a Marine Architect, was deeply into aviation; his enthusiasm infected me. I saw the glimmer in his eyes when the Allison turboprop engines spooled up and began to whine. I saw the square-tipped Hamilton Standard propellers become a blur. We taxied to the runway threshold and, having been granted takeoff clearance, commenced a very spirited takeoff! It was a cavu (now cavok) day all the way to Hotlanner. From our First Class seats, my father led me to the rear of the aircraft, where there was a windowed bar that accommodated 10 passengers. Dad had a bourbon; I had a "Co-Cola". I noticed that Dad spent what seemed to me to be an inordinate period of time observing the starboard wing of our conveyance. What I did not know was that the day before, an Electra had disintegrated over Texas, its left wing failing due to destructive whirl mode.
Our trip was silky smooth and pretty damn fast at 375 m.p.h. I remember witnessing my father hugging my grandfather when we arrived. I remember my grandfather hugging me. I remember my father looking down at me, glint in his eyes, knowing that, as usual, we were walkin' around lucky!
- Ed
