Afternoon Outing with an F-18

Last Friday, the family went to the Detroit Riverwalk. I imagine it is the nicest place in Detroit (and perhaps the only one you can’t buy for a thousand bucks or so). It is a recently built riverfront park that eventually will run for several miles from south of the Joe Louis Arena north past Chene Park. It has some great water fountains that my son like to play in.

We took a pizza to eat and ran into some unexpected but excellent entertainment. An F-18 fighter jet was practicing approaches for landing. He would come from the northeast, dive down, fly low over the city, level out over the river, lower his landing gear and tail hook and fly north over Belle Isle. After a minute or two he would do the same thing again.

At times he would fly directly over our table, wings vertical to the ground in a tight turn. Other times he would fly further south over the city and appear from behind the Renaissance Center. The sound was deafening. The spectacle was amazing. The people on their lunch break stared helplessly.

I don’t care how old you are. You can’t not look at something like that.

I could watch planes all day long.

I got my pilot’s license twenty years ago, in the spring of 1989. I am a sucker for planes of all type and sizes. It even gets my attention when I am playing golf and the planes fly overhead on final approach for landing at Detroit Metro.

There is nothing so liberating and exhilarating as flying a plane. When it’s in your blood, you love it. I don’t think anyone flies a plane because they have nothing else to do. It’s not a fallback job.

Sometimes, you read an interview where the question is asked, “If you weren’t a pastor, what would you be?”

My answer is simple and easy: A pilot.

It’s in my blood.