One time it was decided that my brother Allan should take some pictures of me flying an airplane. So on the designated day he gave me a ride to my lesson in our older brother Bob's car ("Old Blue"), and somehow talked my instructor Ed into allowing him to follow me as I taxied to runway 17 for some touch-and-goes. This was a grass runway, one I was used to using for solo flights. I will never forget the odd feeling of seeing him in the mirror follow me down the runway in that old (1968) beat-up blue Rambler American with its lights on. Little did I know at the time that one day it would be my first car, purchased from Bob for $150 in the summer of 1978.
But this was 1974, and Old Blue was following me as I taxied along in 94G. When we got to the end of the runway Allan parked way over to the side and got into position to take pictures. After the run-up I took off and began flying the pattern. Each time around I could see him crouched next to the car taking pictures as I did my landings. After about a half hour of that I landed for the last time, gave him a signal and he followed me back to the hanger.
But of all the luck - he lost the roll of film, and all that effort was wasted! I was still proud that at least one member of my family cared to come watch me fly, but was profoundly disappointed that there were no pictures to commemorate the occasion. As it stands, all I have now is my logbook as a record of my flying days, and the back of the T-shirt I was wearing the first day I soloed in the little Cessna 150...
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