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“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”-Leonardo da Vinci

I've been a pilot since I was 19 and flying is probably my favorite activity. I find it amazingly challenging as well as relaxing as contradictory as that may sound.

Me and my Arrow

Here's a poem (not written by me) that expresses my feelings about flying quite nicely:

by Gary Claud Stokor

Flight is freedom in its purest form,
To dance with the clouds which follow a storm;

To roll and glide, to wheel and spin,
To feel the joy that swells within;

To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
And know the warmth of a clear spring sky;

Then back to earth at the end of a day,
Released from the tensions which melted away.

Should my end come while I am in flight,
Whether brightest day or darkest night;

Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again;

For each of us is created to die,
And within me I know,
I was born to fly.

And a little thing I think is quite funny which, when I first saw it, was called "The Proper Attitude":

The Airline Transport Pilot leaps tall buildings in a single bound, is more powerful than a 747, is faster than a speeding bullet, walks on water, and gives policy to God.

The Multi-Engine Pilot leaps short buildings in a single bound, is more powerful than a 707, is just as fast as a speeding bullet, walks on water if it is calm, and talks to God.

The Instrument Pilot leaps short buildings with a running start and favorable wind conditions, is nearly as powerful as a Lear Jet, almost as fast as a speeding bullet, walks on water of an indoor pool, and talks to God if special request is approved.

The Commercial Pilot barely clears a quonset hut, loses a tug-of-war with twin-engine aircraft, can fire a speeding bullet, swims well, and is occasionally addressed by God.

The Private Pilot makes high marks when trying to leap buildings, is run over by Piper Arrows, sometimes handles an airplane without inflicting self-injury, can dog-paddle, and talks to animals.

The Soloed Student Pilot runs into buildings, recognizes a Cessna 172 two out of three times, is issued a parachute, can stay afloat if properly instructed, and talks to water.

The Non-Soloed Student Pilot falls over door sills when trying to enter buildings, says "Look at the airplane," wets himself with a water pistol, and mumbles to himself.

The Certified Flight Instructor lifts buildings and walks under them, kicks planes out of the hangars, catches speeding bullets in his teeth and chews them, and freezes water with a single glance. The C.F.I. is God.