I was born in Seattle at Waldo Memorial Hospital which might be a TV station now all these years later. Maybe the tore down the hospital or they just remodeled it and turned it into a TV Station there? Not sure.
So, from 1948 to 1952 I lived in Lake Forest Park in the Seattle area of Washington. Some of my first memories were of taking a shower with my Dad when I was barely able to stand and pulling a clock by the cord off a bureau by the cord since I was crawling on the ground and then taking it apart as best I could to see what made it work. I also remember being put in a snow suit which was light blue in collar and very smoothe on the outside which covered me from head to toe and then being sent out alone and falling down in the snow and crying and getting very cold. I was always a very willful child and knew what I wanted always. So, I likely could have been difficult to manage because I was always very strong willed like my father and Grandfather before me and knew what I wanted in life (Or at least I thought I did).
Like I insisted on sitting on the back of a motorcycle at 2 so I could hold the steering wheel and pretend I was riding it. I wanted to fly a plane and ride a motorcycle and drive a car as soon as I could in life and eventually did. By the time I was 8 or 10 I had piloted a plane from Yucca Valley Airport to I believe Encino Airport in the Los Angeles area. Of course they didn't let me take off or land but after reaching cruising altitude they let me fly the plane. I learned to "Crab" into the wind which just means that if you are in a cross wind that will blow you into the mountains on one side of you, you have to go sideways a little to compensate for the wind so you don't die. So, I learned how to do this when we flew from Palm Springs down Interstate 10 because if I didn't we would have blown into San Gorgonio Mountain at 11,000 feet and we would have died. So, I learned how to use the pedals (in this case the left pedal which controls the rudder to crab into the wind facing San Jacinto Mountain. The first time I flew. plane was in Santa Fe, New Mexico when I was 8 years old. The pilot took off and my father and the pilot let me frly around Santa Fe for about 1 hour then.
I wanted to be a pilot when I grew up more than anything but since my father's brother disappeared in a plane and this devastated their family he made me promise not to fly planes for a living until he was dead. So, I honored his wishes so he wouldn't have to see me die too in a plane crash. Over the years people have told me that I have the wrong disposition to be a pilot anyway.
They say I'm too bold in life. There's a true saying which is:
"There are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old bold pilots".
Why?
Because they are all dead from being too bold in the air.
Flying is extremely unforgiving.
Most weekend pilots die when they ARE USED TO flying alone and then take their family's up and they aren't used to the extra weight in takeoff and so this causes their wing to stall from too high an angle of attack for the weight on takeoff and then they and their families die together. This is commonly what actually happens.
What does your wing stalling mean?
It means you aren't going fast enough for the weight and are in too steep of a climb for your wings to keep you into the air without falling to the ground.
The more weight the faster you have to fly to stay in the air. But, in turbulence flying to fast will rip your wings off so you have to slow down. So, being too overloaded in turbulence is always a bad idea any way you look at it.
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