A 1075 foot Runway
A number of years ago I moved into the first completed condo unit in a new development. In early January we had a northeaster and the developers hired a number of people to help shovel out the roadway.
While removing the twelve inches of snow on and around my car a man, with a shovel, appeared and began to help me clear a pathway for my car to lurch its way over the unpaved roadway.
"I'm Sid," he said, "I own the runway down the street. If you want I can take you up in my plane and show you the sights."
Even if I wasn't leery of small planes and private runways it wasn't an invitation I'd accept from a total stranger. Besides who ever heard of a private runway in a residential neighborhood.
Several weeks later I went for a walk and passed a small sign— Sid's Airport. In order to see the runway I had to peer through dense bushes. There, down a steep incline, I spotted a wind sock and a long turf runway. From the top of the incline the runway appeared fairly narrow, but long.
I know that Sid did fly his plane from that location because periodically neighbors worried about the close proximity to other houses. Sid had constructed the runway in 1954 and he didn't have close neighbors.
Sid grew old and rarely flew the plane. When he died the house either passed on to his son or to someone else with a fervor for flying. A glider or ultralight replaced the single engine plane.
Today when I walked past Sid's Airport I noted another change— the sign and bushes are both gone. A small child's swing set and outdoor pool occupy a concrete slab. The wind sock remains—a reminder.
So I'll release the memory of a free spirit creating his own private turf runway and instead wonder about how this new family will use the 1075 foot grassy field.
Perhaps I missed an opportunity.
While removing the twelve inches of snow on and around my car a man, with a shovel, appeared and began to help me clear a pathway for my car to lurch its way over the unpaved roadway.
"I'm Sid," he said, "I own the runway down the street. If you want I can take you up in my plane and show you the sights."
Even if I wasn't leery of small planes and private runways it wasn't an invitation I'd accept from a total stranger. Besides who ever heard of a private runway in a residential neighborhood.
Several weeks later I went for a walk and passed a small sign— Sid's Airport. In order to see the runway I had to peer through dense bushes. There, down a steep incline, I spotted a wind sock and a long turf runway. From the top of the incline the runway appeared fairly narrow, but long.
I know that Sid did fly his plane from that location because periodically neighbors worried about the close proximity to other houses. Sid had constructed the runway in 1954 and he didn't have close neighbors.
Sid grew old and rarely flew the plane. When he died the house either passed on to his son or to someone else with a fervor for flying. A glider or ultralight replaced the single engine plane.
Today when I walked past Sid's Airport I noted another change— the sign and bushes are both gone. A small child's swing set and outdoor pool occupy a concrete slab. The wind sock remains—a reminder.
So I'll release the memory of a free spirit creating his own private turf runway and instead wonder about how this new family will use the 1075 foot grassy field.
Perhaps I missed an opportunity.
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