The Little Blond Girl
1991 was the beginning of a new life for this writer. Having just joined SkyStar Aircraft (Kitfox) as an officer in the company, and my wife “Sue” having joined the sales department, our lives were changing. I was finally free of the airline/aerospace world and deeply involved in “homebuilts,” a passion held since the mid 1950’s. The EAA had initiated the Young Eagles program, with volunteer pilots using their Experimental aircraft to give rides to kids. Long recognized that the “airport kid” had vanished into the past, the EAA hoped to interest youth in flying, either as a hobby or career.
Skystar was located at Nampa Airport at that time, about 20 miles west of Boise, Idaho. Ten miles further west is the larger town of Caldwell, home of the large Caldwell Airport. It was early summer, and Caldwell was having a rather fancy “airport day,” with displays food and fun. Local EAA chapters decided this would be a great opportunity to conduct a big Young Eagles program, putting Idaho on the map with respect to getting kids into the air. SkyStar volunteered our two demonstrators, a new Model 4 and the current rage of the Experimental world, the Kitfox Speedster. With its clipped wings, round cowl, new tail section and a brilliant “day-glow” paint scheme, it brought to mind the cool racing planes of the 1930s. But this Speedster was not a production model, instead it was the marketing prototype, and could be a bit “quirky” at times. I decided to be the pilot that would fly this plane for the two-day Young Eagles event.
Sue had careful organized the ride process, including EAA and parental paperwork. Each youngster would be escorted to the plane by a SkyStar volunteer, with a parent walking with the child. An abbreviated walk-around followed. The planes “Crew Chief” assisted the child to get on board, adjusted cushions to assure good visibility and access to the stick. I wanted each flight to be a mini flying lesson. The kids were given a ballcap, and the use of headsets with a hot mike. All was well planned to provide a superior experience.
Rides began on Saturday morning, with good planning paying off. Each flight was essentially a long right-hand pattern, climbing to about 2,000 feet AGL. This allowed the kids to get a good view of the surrounding sugar beet and potato fields, the towns of Caldwell and Nampa, with Boise visible in the distance, back up against high mountains and ski resorts. To the north were mountains leading to popular Lake McCall, to the south were the Owyhee Mountains and the Snake River. Incredible country to fly over! Each kid was invited to try the stick, most accepted. The flying went well, but with an undertone of disappointment on my part. Most of the kids just looked upon the opportunity as a free carnival ride. By Sunday afternoon, I was tired and looking for the event to end. I had lost count after the 60th kid.
Then I saw Sue walking out with The Little Blond Girl. Holding her mothers’ hand, she appeared pensive and shy. Maybe 10 years old, but small for her age, she had huge blue eyes that seemed to take everything in but said nothing. With more cushions than usual, The Little Blond Girl was propped up and belted in, still saying nothing. The oversized ball cap and David Clarks virtually hid her face, a shot that would have been popular on today’s U-Tube. I began my practiced line of pattern as we taxied out, but The Little Blond Girl was transfixed, looking out of the left side window (I fly from the rights seat). I was concerned that she was frightened. Immediately after takeoff, I began describing what we were seeing, the cities, mountains, fields and so on. Again, I could see only the back of her head as The Little Blond Girl continued to stare out the left window. She did not speak. I decided to cut this flight a bit short and transitioned from the wide right hand down-wind to a long base leg. I had stopped talking and began to concentrate on the approach and landing, with my left hand on the throttle, making minor power adjustments. That is when it happened.
I suddenly felt The Little Blond Girls right hand grasp my throttle hand, holding on tightly. I turn my head away from the approaching runway to see that The Little Blond Girl was looking directly at me, her great big blue eyes wide open and tears rolling down her face. She then whispered, “It is all so beautiful.” I suddenly realized that her demeanor was that of a little girl being overwhelmed by the magic of our planet. Her hand continued to rest on mine, as if trying to share her emotion… and she did… as I held back my own tears of discovery. The Little Blond Girl continued to hold my hand, like the touch of the angels, as we landed and taxied back to the ramp. She wiped her face to hide the tears from her mother, who greeted her on the ramp, intending to hustle her away quickly. But The Little Blond girl paused for just a moment, looked directly at me, and gently caressed the wing strut, with her huge blue eyes thanking us, me, and the plane. She then disappeared into the remaining Sunday crowd. I never saw her again. But The Little Blond Girl taught this pilot a lesson that I benefit from every time I fly. No matter what the purpose of the flight, I allow myself to look outside, take in the view and quietly say to myself, “It is all so beautiful.”
Epilog. Today that flight would need a permission slip from the government. Today, I would be charged with having made a flight “for compensation or hire,” in that “goodwill was generated.” How sick is a bureaucracy that must assign a legal standing to a child’s moment of discovery.
