One time it was decided that my brother Allan should take some pictures of me flying an airplane. So that day he gave me a ride to my lesson and somehow talked Ed into allowing him to follow me as I taxied to runway 17 for some touch-and-goes. I will never forget the odd feeling of turning around and seeing him follow me down that grass runway in my oldest brother Bob's old beat-up blue Rambler American with its lights on.
So we got to the end of the runway, and 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...
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