The Thunderbirds are flying as I type this. Watched them a bit from my deck, but eight miles from the runway and trees between makes it hard.
I teared up, remembering how I used to fly formation like that. Never again, of course, and that hurts.
I feel the same way when a Blackhawk or Huey fly over head. I used to be there. Those used to be my birds. I got to touch them, set in their seats, turn wrenches on them, move them with a tug and put fuel in them. I love the smell of 23699 mixed with WTR and the odor of mothballs. I miss it all. I know, I'm weird.
kwg
