|
Redwood Falls Gazette - Redwood Falls - MN
  • Neutron stars and airplanes

  • I'd like to get a keyring made out of neutron star material. It would only be about as big as a domino, but would be really, really heavy.


    Think of the great tricks you could play!


    • email print
  •   I'd like to get a keyring made out of neutron star material. It would only be about as big as a domino, but would be really, really heavy. I could say to someone, "Hey, hold my keyring."  They'd take it, expecting it to only weigh a couple ounces, but instead it would weigh 300 million tons.  And then they'd say, "Whoa!" and I'd laugh, "Heh heh heh." That would be a good trick. . . . . . Years ago I interviewed an elderly crop duster pilot who spent his summers flying around spraying fields from his airplane. As he was reminiscing about the good old days, he said some pilots used to actually fly under the telephone lines at the ends of fields. I asked him if he had every done such a shocking thing. He said, “No.” Then he hesitated and said, “Off the record, I may have done it a few times....” I love the words “off the record....”  Nearly every time I?hear them during an interview, the next words I hear are always the most interesting thing I’ll hear all day. . . . . . My father, an Air Force pilot, used to say some of the best pilots in the world were those little-known guys zipping their lil’ biplanes over fields, spraying the crops. As far as I know, my grandparents only flew once in their lives, and that was when my father offered to take them up in a rented Cessna at the Redwood Falls airport. This would have been in the early to mid-1960s.  He gave them separate rides in the plane, because I assume the plane was only a two-seater.  As he was about to land with my grandfather, my father came in so low the plane’s tires actually hit the top of the corn stalks in the field at the end of the runway. “Don’t land in the corn field, son,” was my grandfather’s only comment. That’s how family legends get started. To this day, when I’m skating on the edge of disaster about something, I’ll catch myself thinking, “Don’t land in the corn field, son.” . . . . . I’ve always wanted to ride in a helicopter, but I’ve never been able to work it out. I’ve been trying for years to find some way to con get North Air to let me ride in one of their helicopters. Of course, there’s one simple way to do it: be in a terrible accident that requires me to be airlifted somewhere. I don’t want to ride in a helicopter that much.
      • calendar