"Me: "Heading of 354. Off to the north."
And off I went, climbing out over the West Virginia countryside. (Click on pics to enlarge.)
The Abandoned Turnpike".
And here's the entrance to one of the two tunnels along it.
Here's the other side. A bit overgrown, but...
Traditions that's not even a mile from the airport. And as it was getting to be lunch time...
These horses told me how to get there.
Oh, wow. Was that place good. I'ma gonna fly back there just for the pot roast samminch.
A mural on the wall at the Altoona airport.
I can see why they'd watch me. I was looking kinda bummy and sweaty, and I was the only one other than them in the building, but they didn't say anything until I walked out the side door past the mural. Sure enough, then one of them
"So why even have a door here if we can't go in or out through it?", I asked him as I turned away and kept walking towards the FBO and MY plane. He seemed butthurt that I'd bypassed him and his pal. He'd probably have been even more upset if he'd known that I had a sidearm on me. But I didn't enter his precious little "secure area" as I walked out onto the tarmac, so he could just go pound sand.
The FBO people were nicer. They gave me water and let me hang out in their air conditioned lobby and watch TV for a bit. Then we made fun of KTVU News Anchor Tori Campbell for for her blinding stupidity as she read off four joke names of the flight crew of that jet that crashed in San Francisco last week.
Way to go, Tori, being the last person in America to get the joke. What a blithering ditz. She needs to reassigned to a job more suited to her talents, perhaps as a greeter in the KTVU lobby.
On second thought, she'd just spend the day paging "Jack Meoff" and Bill Melater" every time one of them got a phone call.
I took off again, and headed southish. I didn't even bother turning on the GPS. I just flew a heading of 210 until I passed the Bedford, PA airport, shown here (complete with a small plane taking off).
Here's downtown Cumberland. I've been here before.
After a quick touch and go, I went back to find my F-80 jet.
There it is! Looks to be a T-33 two-seater, actually. The RC-172 eye in the sky sees all!
I'm going to go back in a car and find that jet. It looks to be in pretty decent shape. Maybe, just maybe...
I flew back east, dreaming of a restored T-33 jet of my very own.
Clouds cast shadows over the mountains below.
Home and down now. 2.7 flying hours in the book, and I'm happy.