Terrifying thread in some ways. The thought of not being able to fly makes me feel ill.
I envy those that have made their peace with the inevitable. Flying is just part of me. Flying is not what I do, it’s what I am when I’m there. Being forced to live earthbound without knowing that I can leave anytime and go flying darn near sums up my personal definition of hell better than Dante or Bosch could define it on their worst days. There is no other process like flying. There is no other feeling like flying. After all the physics, mechanics, and other intellectual navel gazing, there is something magical about popping up through a cloud or flying across miles of prairie fields or having the northern lights dancing and crackling away just off your wing on a winter’s night.
So, maybe I’m destined for hell. I’ve already had a good long tour of heaven so if that’s the price, it’s a pretty good deal.