I had my first airplane ride when I was about 4 years old. My dad and I rode with a friend of his who was a Flying Farmer and kept a Cessna 120 on his farm. He had his own private grass strip, ran east to west and was about 1/4 mile long. My dad used to take me to the airport on Saturday night, we'd stop at the Dairy Queen and get a Slushie and then go watch airplanes. Usually it was just Cubs and Champs practicing landings. Every once in a while, we'd see a "Forked-Tail Doctor Killer" come in.
We moved to Des Moines in 1967. My dad, having been in the Air Force, had some GI Bill benefits to use up. He decided he wanted to be an airline pilot, or at least that's what he told them, so they paid for 90% of his lessons. I tagged along when he went with his instructor. I survived stalls, slow flight and practice forced landings. I was his Copilot when he did his 50 hours of Cross-Country PIC for his Instrument/Commercial. I couldn't see over the panel of that Cherokee 140, but I could hold his charts and my hot chocolate at the same time. We'd go to Burger Chef on Sunday nights and watch the airliners land.
All of his friends had airplanes while I was growing up. I grew up around a Cub, a Chief, a Cherokee 6 and a Citabria, a Swift and a very dear friend rebuilding a 1930 Waco CSO which I got to ride in my freshman year of college. He and I spend 5 years restoring a PA-12.
He started taking me to Oshkosh in 1973. I loved Warbirds and practically drug him out there every dad to see what new had come in. That's how I got started taking pictures. I wanted a camera to shoot pix of Oshkosh and the airplanes, so for my birthday, which is right before Oshkosh, I received a 110 Instamatic.
He let me sign up for formal lessons at Des Moines Flying Service in the spring of 1979, where I proceeded to make my instructor, Bob Matthews, even balder. I may start slow, but I'm a strong finisher. I got my Private in October of that year.
Photo by Skyler "Sureshot" Parsons