I bank reluctantly around and assume a reverse compass course for home. I have seen enough for an afternoon’s jaunt, anyway.
[REMINISCENCE]
I taxi out and turn my ship into the wind at the end of the snow-plowed runway at Hagerstown Airport, Maryland. The white hangar looms too close. Deep snow on the rest of the field prohibits its use. Can I get over the hangar? I give it the gun and try. Just miss the hangar. Too close!
Head off on a compass course for New York. Strong drift to the right from northwest wind. Head a little more to left.
Blue Ridge Mountains pass under me. On into the friendly undulating valley country beyond, snow covered.
Gettysburg under my left wing. They were fighting down there once. Hard to believe, looking down on the peaceful fields now. Wonder what they would have done if they could have looked up and seen me and my airplane?
Low hills before the Susquehanna River. Their brown contours reach like dusky fingers out into the snow-filled valleys.
Over the river, and Lancaster off to my left. Reform school there. That’s where they were always going to send me when I was a bad little boy.
More valley country. Ridge-like hills. The Schuylkill River and Norristown. Philadelphia, blue laws, and no movies on Sundays far off to my right.