Yesterday I was driving to the vision clinic to replace the lenses in my glasses. Over the years I have gone from 20/15 to bifocals. I remember enough from my flying days to cheat my way to 20/15 but there is no longer a need to do so.
A helicopter very similar to the first one I ever flew went low overhead, practicing approaches to a confined area. My hands betrayed me. They started moving in time, and I flew what would have been a perfect approach. I could see the line-up from the cockpit and reviewed the steps for a steep-angle approach. I am sure my wife beside me did not notice, but it was a moment, just a moment.
Hemingway’s old men dream of lions, I dream of flying.