JENNIFER’S HOUSE - LATE MORNING
Jennifer was sun bathing on the back porch. The Beach Boys were crooning about the little surfer girl when the door bell rang. She never moved to go see who it was.
A few moments later her phone rang. She never looked to see who was calling.
After a minute or two Tosh appeared from around the corner. She had on hiking boots, jeans, and a grey zip up the front hooded sweat shirt. She stood next to Jen with her hands on her hips and an expressionless face, most of it hidden behind those big black framed sun glasses of hers.
“Where have you been?” Tosh demanded. “What about the Trials?”
Except for the twitch from one of Jen’s feet to shoo off a fly Tosh might have believed that Jen was asleep.
“You just going to quit?!” There was a hard accusatory edge to Tosh’s voice. Jen remained motionless, absorbing the sun, her RayBans hiding her eyes.
Tosh shifted position to stand more over Jen, looking down on her, blocking her sun. “What about all that baloney you were telling me about wants?” Tosh was mad. “What about reaching for what you want and going after it? About not letting anything or anybody get in your way? Huh?” With that last “Huh” Tosh nudged the lounge trying to provoke a response.
Jen rose to her elbows, looking out past her toes. Most of her hair streamed down and stayed on the cushion behind her. Still she said nothing.
Tosh sat down on the edge of the chaise and faced her friend. “Well, I’ve got something I want to do. And I want you to come with me.” Her mouth was set, determination oozed.
Jen reached up with one hand and took off her RayBans, her dark green ocean eyes tried to see beyond the black pools of Tosh’s glasses.
Tosh stood, stayed close. “Get dressed. I want you to come with me.”
Jen looked back out into the trees. Her face made an indignant gesture as she mouthed Tosh’s words without giving them sound, “I want.”
With a sigh she sat up, forcing Tosh to give some ground. Jen pulled her hair into a tail, inserted a band to hold it in place and stood to face her friend.
Tosh only folded her arms to accentuate her stand.
Jen took in a deep breath, let it out slowly and surrendered. She went inside to get changed.
Tosh was sitting in her car, tapping the steering wheel, feeling like a woman to Shania Twain’s beat when Jen emerged from the front door. She too, was in jeans, her desert boots, jeans jacket, and her hair pulled through that black cap of her’s with the oversized bill. RayBans in place, but no smile on her face.
“Good,” Tosh thought. “At least she’s dressed for the occasion.”
Jen got in, fastened her seat belt. When she returned Tosh’s look, both in their shades, Jen looked out over the hood of the car, and with both hands threw her fingers out her fists to indicate a stubborn, “Let’s go.”
Tosh shifted into gear and they were off.
They headed down the hill East on Baseline. At 28th they took a left to go North. After going down most of the main drag through town Tosh took a right on Iris. A little more than a mile later another right on Independence.
Jen thought they were going hiking, or somewhere into the mountains. Instead, they were on the Northeast corner of town, an area she wasn’t familiar with.
They were skirting around the far side of the Boulder Airport. Jen could see the hangars and planes on the South side across the runways. They were on a small frontage road bordered by trees and farmhouses running down the left, runways on the right.
Tosh slowed, and turned onto a dirt road access that went between the barbed wire fence onto what appeared to be airport property. She followed along the road to a small parking lot next to a couple of those all aluminum trailers called Airstreams. Beyond the parking lot were a few planes with long graceful wings scattered on the ground and appeared to be lying on their bellies grazing on the grass.
They had no propellers.
The astonishment showed on Jen’s face as she turned to look at Tosh.
Tosh pulled in beside the only other car in the dirt lot, shifted into park, and looked back.
“You’re crazy.”
Tosh smiled. Turned off the car and smiled back. “I know what I want” and got out of the car. Jen followed.
Tosh led the way to the nearest trailer. It’s door was open, the overhead awning pulled out, and a man was rocking in one of those spring steel garden chairs.
Open for business, he seemed relaxed, taking in a beautiful sunny day, and all was right with the world. “Good morning, ladies.” He didn’t rise, but waited to see what their business was before he rose to break his reverie.
“My name is Macintosh McBride, are you Henry?”
Nodding in sync with the rocking of the chair the man in aviator glasses and ball cap that said NAVY on the front responded, “That’s me.” He stood, held out his right hand to shake, “Henry Harrison at your service.”
As they shook hands, Henry took off his sunglasses and added, “But you can call me Hawk. Everyone else does.”
“Great. It’s nice to meet you. We spoke on the phone and have an appointment with you.” Tosh turned towards Jen. “This is Jennifer.”
Hawk shook hands giving her an appraising look. It wasn’t one of those from head to toe checking a woman out kind of look. It was in his eyes gauging her face, and the shake of his hand was more than a mild howdie do. He tightened his grip looking for a reaction. Jen gave him one. Nothing defensive, just meeting him with equal tension and willing to hold on.
The Hawk smiled as he release his grip, pleased in some way. Jen had the faint impression she had passed some kind of test.
“It’s a good day for flying. Hot yesterday. There will be a lot of lift today.” Hawk looked skyward and to the West. “We provide parachutes, as required by FAA regulations for all aerobatics flights. If you're in good health and have no fear, you'll love it!”
Jen’s mouth opened. The Hawk’s comments seemed to be directed at her. As she went to speak and hold out a hand towards Tosh to clear up the misunderstanding Tosh slipped a large zip lock bag into her hand.
With a tight smile and dead serious she took off her sunglasses, leaned in closer, hooked up eye to eye. “And this is if you’re not as tough as you think,” she said with a wink.
Jen looked down at the bag in her hand, up into Tosh’s face, over to Hawk’s, back to Tosh’s.
“This is what I want. I want you to go flying. I want you to go flying with that bird you saw the last time we were with James.”
The Hawk heard this, assumed that had settled things. “Today we’ll be flying a Schweizer 2-33, a sweet bird, great for performing aerobatics.”
The Hawk had headed off to the flock of gliders resting lazily in the grass. Jen just stood there, frozen in space, baggie in hand, looking at Tosh.
“It’s what I want.” Tosh reached out, gently turned Jen towards the Hawk and gave a slight push. “Give me what I want.”
The Hawk was droning on oblivious to the undertows in play. Or maybe he was choosing to ignore them. In any event, Jen stumbled after, stuffing the baggie into a side pocket of her jacket. “These long strips along the back edge of the wing are called spoilers. They slow us down when we land and help us maneuver in the air. That little string there on top of the wing is a yawl string to tell you if we are flying straight.”
Jennifer reached out with both hands, fingers making contact, as though she was introducing herself. Hawk noticed, understood, and continued on. “After we get the bonnet off I’ll show you around.”
He carefully folded off the cover to the canopy and tossed it to the side into the grass. He stood at the nose, reached down and grabbed a painter to pull the glider out away from the others, onto a grassy field that looked more like a football field than a runway. He swiveled the plane 90 degrees to face East.
He did his checklist, detached the painter, tossed it aside as he walked around the wing closest to Jen and indicated for her to come closer.
He tilted open the glass bubble reached into the front seat and drew out a parachute. It was the kind you sit on. He held it open for Jen to slip on like it was an evening wrap and they were on their way out for a night on the town. Once arms were in he turned her to face him and buckled her in. His eyes watched everything his hands were doing to confirm he had accomplished each task at hand. Finally, he grabbed her harness at her shoulders, gave it a solid shake, and grunted in satisfaction.
As the Hawk pulled his parachute from the back seat and started strapping it on Jen looked inside.
“You’ll sit in front. You’ve got your own complete set of avionics. That’s your passenger control stick.”
“Control stick?” Jen murmured.
“Sure, you want to fly it don’t you?”
Jen looked up and over to Tosh. Her arms were crossed, feet in a wide stance, on guard. Jen found herself nodding to herself, acknowledging a feeling that came from her gut. “Yes, yes I do.”
From that moment on, she never looked back, and was completely absorbed in her adventure.
Hawk thumbed the radio attached to his harness. “Tango Seven, ready in 10”
“Afirm.” Came back.
Hawk helped Jen get in. Got in behind her and lowered the hatch.
From somewhere Jen heard an engine roar and from behind her a plane motored past in front of them.
It was pulling a line. Out from the Airstream trailer came a woman in her forties and a teen aged girl, Hawk's wife and daughter, Jen guessed. The woman ran past Tosh, grabbed the line and attached it underneath the nose of the glider. The young girl ran to the far wing tip, and the woman went to the other.
The tow plane’s engine roared, the wing walkers kept the glider from hitting or dragging a wing tip on the ground allowing Hawk to maintain a straight path using the rudders. They ran along until the airspeed was sufficient enough for Hawk to keep the wings level on his own using the ailerons.
Jen and Tosh waved as the bird floated into the air and the world became new.
The tow plane was a little higher. It had struts connecting the fuselage to points out at a distance on the wings. “Must be for more stability,” Jen thought.
The wind swooshed by, but it was relatively quiet, and Jen could easily hear the Hawk explain how to use the vent at the side of her head that was built into the canopy. She adjusted it to suit her and felt good to exercise control over some aspect of her experience.
Now Jen cast her attention out and down to see Boulder in a whole new perspective. They were being towed South along the Eastern edge of town, and then when they turned again to head West Jen was able to pick out a special spot.
Greenwood Cemetery lay off to her right and ahead of her. As they drew nearer she was surprised to see that same bird circling overhead, only now she was above the bird and gaining altitude.
Before she could fall into reflection Hawk flew in a "box", literally a square shape, around the wake of the tow plane, then directly through the wake in a vertical motion to ensure that everything felt normal and the controls were all responding ok before disengaging from the tow rope. It's usually the sign to the pilot of the tow plane to look for the 'all ok' sign and to expect release of the rope, or if there is no release forthcoming then a signal to tow the glider back to the field.
There was a loud click and the tow rope released.
“Right hand on the stick.” Hawk instructed. “Match the pressure I’m placing on the pedals.”
Jen fingers laced around the stick. Her feet felt the pressure Hawk was using to push them. Suddenly Jen flashed back upon that initial handshake with Hawk and she understood what he had been looking for.
“Nature provides the atmospheric engine, gives us the lift to go higher. We just have to turn in a tight enough circle to stay inside the column of air on its way up.”
Jen’s grip got more firm, her feet seeking to hold the pedals in place. The Hawk felt this and eased himself out of the tension. Jen was flying before she knew it.
“Tighter. More hand. More foot.”
And Jen asserted herself. Responded to the feeling in her ass. That was the only way to put it. She was flying by the seat of her pants and falling in love with it.
“Good. What’s your altitude?”
Flying by the seat of your pants is one thing. Having to look inside the cockpit and read instruments takes it up a level. “Seven hundred feet?”
“Try seven thousand. Much higher and we’d need oxygen. Break out and head West.”
“West?”
“Towards the mountains.”
Jen wasn’t sure what “Break out” meant, but she shifted weight into her pedals, and moved the stick out of the direction of the turn they were in. The glider bumped and wobbled and Jen could feel some guiding influence coming from behind her but not overruling her. As they leveled out and the Rocky Mountains spread out beneath her, she looked closer to see what she could recognize.
She could pick out the lake by Nederland. Off to the North she could see Longs Peak. She knew it was over 14,000 feet tall, but from up here it looked pretty small.
“Press the nose down a little, gain a little speed. Good. Now pretend like you’re on a snow board and sliding down the tube from one side to the other.”
Jen was having fun, she felt like she was in control. She liked the connection between the pedals under her feet and the pressure on the stick in her right hand.
“Okay. Nose over a little more. Faster. Now rock all the way over.”
Jen did as instructed, and went upside down like she was swirling down a drain. “Whoo Hoo!”
“Congratulations, little one, you just completed your first barrel role.” There was pride in his voice, with a tinge of astonishment.
It felt like they hit a bump in the road. The controls moved beneath Jen and the glider made a tight turn, as if to go back and see what they hit.
This time the Hawk put the glider in a turn going the other way, and once established released to Jen’s control. “This is called catching a ride.” Jen watched the altimeter needle circle around and the ground grow smaller beneath them.
“Level off at 8,000. Head East.”
Jen followed instructions. Pleased with herself. Absorbed in the moment.
“Okay, Jennifer.” The tone in Hawk’s voice sharpened Jen’s attention. Imagine it’s wartime. And “Tallyho!” a fighter has come out of the sun and is bearing down on your tail. The way she flies you know you won’t shake this gal off.”
“Gal?”
“Some of the fiercest fighter pilots in the sky these days are women,” Hawk informed her. “You decide to dive and plan on looping up and around behind her coming to guns.”
“Hawk, I don’t know. Do you think I’m ready for this?”
“What I think doesn’t matter. Do you think you are ready for this?” The question hung in the cockpit. “You’re in control unless I override you.”
Jen nodded, opened her grip on the stick, re-wrapped her fingers.
“Here she comes. Push the nose over, more, faster!”
The ground started rushing up into Jen’s focused eyes.
“She’s on you! Guns are blazing. More speed! NOW! Pull back, harder, into your gut. Use both hands.”
The nose lifted above the horizon. Jen’s seat sank into the cushion.
“Keep pulling! Push your head into the cushion. Look up over your head. Find your target.” Hawk’s voice was cool, clipped, and commanding.
Jen didn’t even notice she was upside down. Maybe that’s what Hawk intended. In any case, Jen’s chin was up, eyes searching above her brows. She half expected to see her enemy.
As though she had come into view, the Hawk continued, “There she is. Ease off the stick. Come in behind her. Index finger...short burst, short burst.”
Jen’s finger flexed and she was surprised not to hear the boom boom boom of her guns.
“Got her! She’s going to explode.”
And did in Jen’s imagination, into a black and orange fireball. She flew right through it, the explosion that was trying to kill her.
“Life is about survival,” the Hawk said matter-of-factly, “and you don’t survive unless you want you.”
Jennifer realized her heart was beating wildly, and her breath was heaving. The thrill was unlike anything she had experienced. There was a tremble in her body. Her hand was shaking.
The Hawk must have felt her through the controls. “Okay, it’s my airplane. I’ll get us home. You sit back and enjoy the scenery.”
Jen pulled her feet back from the pedals, let go the stick and rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs.
“Way to go,” Hawk said soothingly, “that loop pulled over 4 gees.”
They were much lower now, taking a pass past the Flatirons. Low enough for Jen to pick out hikers at the base of the giant slabs of rock tilted up and jutting into the sky.
The Flatirons met and flowed out into the plains of
East Boulder.
The University of Colorado was a splash of red stone brick and tile roofs. The horse shoe stadium was empty with a bright green rectangle manicured within.
Jen found it strange to recognize a golf course from the air. And soon the power plant on the Boulder reservoir came into view.
There was the airport and the farmhouses she had driven by to get there.
Their final approach took them over the soccer fields on the North edge of town, just the other side of the diagonal that led Northeast up to Longmont.
Jen sensed the expert hands at the controls as she felt they came in hot, faster than normal. They flew over the diagonal, pulled up to make it over the stand of trees and then down on the far side to just above the North end of the lake that edged the beginning of the runway.
It reminded Jen of the way the movie The Thomas Crown Affair started, when Steve McQueen made a similarly dramatic landing.
The rumble of the wheel on grass was evidence they had landed, but Jen’s spirit was still soaring in the sky.
Out of plane, feet on the ground, Hawk didn’t speak as he helped her out of her parachute. He set the chute in her vacant seat, stepped back and gave her a sharp, brief salute, and then another handshake.
The handshake took it back to where her adventure seemed to begin, in their first handshake. The grip was the same, only familiar now, and somehow like the control stick she had just relinquished.
She knew. She felt, she could walk away without a word, without another gesture, but she gave into her instinct and jumped up into his arms and buried her face in his neck. He held her there, feet above the ground.
She pulled her face back so she could whisper in his her, “Thank you.” Kissed his cheek.
He lowered her down, let her go. Smiled. “My pleasure, way to fly.”
Jen gave him one last beaming smile of appreciation. She turned looking for Tosh, but she, and her car, were nowhere to be seen. Only a taxi with a driver leaning against the front passenger door, back door open.
Jen looked back at Hawk, a question on her face. He gestured with his hand at the taxi. “That’s your ride. It’s taken care of.” As Jen soaked in what he was saying, he continued, “That’s quite a friend you’ve got.”
Moved, Jen could only agree. “Yea, yea she is.”
With that James Dean looping swoop of her hand she gestured goodbye, turned, entered the taxi. The driver shut the door, walked around to the other side. As the taxi pulled away the Hawk gave a rising banking gesture with the palm of his hand.
