My Dad is an air junkie. Ever since I've known him, which would be......yeah.....all my life, he's tried to hurl either his own body or some poor inanimate object into the air. For him, it's all flying, all the time. He goes to airshows, he subscribes to specialty flying magazines, he teaches others the joy of flight, he talks about the flying royalty. Heck, he's become flying royalty (Frank Beagle, The Voice of OshKosh).
Now substitute words like 'quilt', 'fabric', 'sewing' into the above paragraph. Gee! Looks a little familiar! Except the quilt royalty part---not quite there yet.
So here's what Dad looks like today. Yes the airplane is part of what he looks like. I can promise that when they're not actually joined hip to frame, they are connected through mind link.
And it's not technically an aaairplaaaane, it's an ultralight. Though the line between the two is becoming blury. This is dad's 5th or 6th ultralight--can't quite keep track there. His current model is a two-seater:
That's my kid, getting ready to have his stomach flopped for the first time. My dad, who lectures and advises (whether you want it or not) on ultralight safety, is probably the only person I'd ever let fly my child in an experimental aircraft.
And although I've flown in small planes because of my dad, this is the first time I've actually been flown by my dad:
I believe I used descriptive language like, 'Yeeeeee HAAAW!' and 'holy s#^%!' It's amazing how a girl who's nervous about heights and gets twitchy in anything Boeing can be so comfortable flying in a lawnchair with wings and a chainsaw engine. No offense, Dad....and thanks for the great ride!