"I wish to lose in the morning mist, slither through scud that stays to my windscreen and drips on my cyclic stay'cause there is a flow in the greenhouse overhead. I want to climb across cornfields at 90 knots, spreading pets and hens as I move, while licking in the loamy scent of fresh supplied greenery that seeps into my cockpit. I want to careen through hill passes at fifty feet above ground, counting the leaves of oak and hemlock trees while they beat around within my rotorwash, laughing with goats and elk as they salute me inside their way as I go them by. Then I'll area and snatch the divisions and sticks out of my skids.

"I do want to cruise near waterfalls, feeling the air turn chill inside their wet presence out my home, and nip underneath of clouds with my knives, merely to begin to see the swirls and whorls I have made, and I do not treatment what the authorities say. I wish to see brother eagle up forward, slow my art nearly to a hover, the same as him, and fly formation down the fellow's wing, see him nod, acknowledging our fraternity, and then view him flip his wings and leap as we portion organization till next time. I do want to thrill a farmer in his subject, and wave at his young ones straddling his tractor, and let them have a few ideas of maybe breaking free from the area and flying sometime, see the helicopters in action.

"High altitudes never involved me; I do want to see what I'm flying around, and get to understand the landforms and alignment of it, follow the contours and sense how a wind passes around mountains and spikes into valleys. The air is glorious, but our planet is home. In terms of my cockpit, I do not require two radios, a transponder, radar altimeter, GPS, gasoline flow meter, digital gauges, and all that nice stuff. Give me an altimeter, a radio, a map and a string in-front to tell me I am in trim, and I'll get fly. Dozens of brilliant and shiny features cause you to overlook you are supposed to be usually the one flying the machine.

Every pilot price a dime knows wherever he's all the time, how much energy he is got, ways to get wherever he's planning, what the elements is and when the machine's showing him something's about to throw up. When it comes to professionals on a lawn, if they had the nerve and the creativity to travel they'd be up where we are. They are just fearful individuals, mainly, Lord enjoy'em. Guys and women who'd love to be in aviation, however, not too far in. And in a crisis, they are number excellent to you. Accident studies are filled with descriptions of pilots discovered useless in the cockpit making use of their fingers smashing the mike, calling for help.