Going back in time

Vintage Day first popped up on one of several resources I keep an eye on. I'd never heard of it before and soon I was on the host museum's site (Candler Museum). It looked exciting; a quick check of the calendar, call to a friend who I thought would want to go, and it was set. I was going to the first ever Vintage Day.

I've been to first occasion events before. The atmosphere is usually one of semi-controlled chaos and misguided enthusiasm; all carried out with the best of intentions, mind you. As I arrived at the Peachstate Aerodrome, however, things resembled a more aged event: like it had been an annual gathering for quite some time. Volunteers handled the ever-growing crowd skillfully and the other provisions seemed to be well thought out.

The event was for car enthusiast as much as it was for aviation fans and I happen to be both. The friend I'd brought, we'll call him Bob (actually, I really do call him Bob; he's my sister's fiance and a friend), was more of a ground-based car lover, so we headed for the old fords.

The collection was amazing, but I have a bad habit of being easily distracted; especially when airplanes are flying around. We soon headed for the rows of winged structures that stretched the distance of the field. Cubs seemed to be the most popular with a good dozen or so parked together, seemingly eager to jump back into the sky. A hand full of Stearman (besides the one I got to fly in) showed up early in the day with both the familiar blue/yellow paint job and some unique, yet nice, paint schemes.

The star of the exhibit was the museum's DC-3 sitting proudly among it's smaller comrades. A few volunteers were shuffeling people into the plane for a quick tour and I jumped on the chance. The cabin was what you'd expect an airliner of the era to be; small, yet pleasant kind of like a nice bus sitting on a steep hill. I sat in a window seat near the wing root and peered out at the engine. It must have been quite the experience riding in this thing across the country: the noise of the engines and wind whipping by. Back then, you could actually see the pilots.

The cockpit was typical with it's forest of guages and switches. My single-engine piston driver mind understood most, but not all, of the controls as the nice volunteer pointed them out. As the heat took over in the cockpit, I headed back out in time to grab a very late lunch and head for home promising that the next event I attend, I'm flying. A flight home at the end of the day is much more exciting than a long drive.