One July day in 1982...
taking myself back to when I was half as old

One of the very cool things about sorting through boxes of old papers is the occasional gem one comes across that brings a shock. I think back to 1982, still in the Navy, I was 28 to my 56 today... just half as old. Ariel was two, almost three. I was in Nevada on temporary duty on the high desert (hence my squint). I believe that my flight and this photo occurred on the day Ariel broke her arm, falling off a dock back home in Maryland.
I had begged, borrowed, cajoled and stole my way into a ride in an A-4 Skyhawk, the light attack bomber version of the aircraft that the Blue Angels used at the time. It was really a swan song for me and my naval career. I was on my way out the door within weeks, looking forward to returning to Vermont. The flight lasted right around three hours, if I remember correctly and included a little of everything the aircraft was capable of... we shadowed F-4s and F-14s, we went low and fast across the desert sand. The pilot, who I only remember was named "Tom" tried to get me sick with the old "this is how we used to do it in Nam" maneuvers.
Most memorable of all was shooting through a ravine high in the mountains south of Lake Tahoe, clouds overhead, rocky cliffs to the left and right, and on one promontory, on the right side, a little bit above use, a couple of mountain goats...I don't think they even looked over at us.
How awesome to remember back to that day. I wish there was a more major, cosmic message I could impart from this, but it was just nice to relive it for a moment... and then return to today.

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