Farewell to a part of my Grandfather

Look at her happy pose. Left wing reflecting her numbers, piece of a tree stuck to her nose. It’s as if she is begging me, or anyone else with a penchant for the mystique of air to go off and say hello to the sky. As I venture through life, I have learned that airplanes and people are similar in one respect: They both have the tendency to fly away out of our lives.

The airplane in this picture is my Grandfathers last ride. When I look at the picture of this beautiful airplane, I feel like the luckiest of Grandsons, having had sat in the backseat while my Grandfather took me for a ride. I also had the good luck to sit in her front seat, holding her throttle in my left hand as I walked her through a few ups and downs, banking left and right as we went.

As things are, when people depart from life, or to borrow from aviation speak “Depart the pattern,” the toys left behind need to be sold. Today, some new pilots from the left coast are arriving in town to retrieve Granddad’s airplane and fly her to a new home. I think she is a lucky airplane, not just for knowing my Granddad, but for coming from her birthplace in the mid-west, seeing the beauty of the northeast, and finally, crossing the awesomeness of our entire country en route to her new home in California. Oh, to be able to fly that journey along with her, the flat lands filled with green in the middle. The majestic mountains graced with beauty as she nears her next domicile in the west. Lucky she is.

I considered going to Capital City Airport in Harrisburg to watch her leave, but I’d rather not. It would be too painful of a burden to stand next to my Daddy as we watched an airplane all three of us loved, go away. How my Father has the strength to sell off his Dad’s airplane, and watch her go, is the greatest mystery this Son will ever know.

So long N93AC- I must say, it was as much of a pleasure to make your acquaintance, as it was to know my Grandfather. On one hand, I am sad. Just as it was with my Granddad, I feel we didn’t have enough time together. On the other hand, I am glad. You have spent the last few months sitting lonely in a hangar, your pilot never returning to your side due to a fatal illness. With wings as pretty as yours, you deserve to go, fly more than you have. My greatest hope is that your new Captain, and passengers, will make a laundry list of warm memories. Happy trails, may you fare well.