The following story is from my Confessions of a Thankful Pilot series.
April 15, 1989
The air is clear and a huge orange moon sits on the eastern horizon as I take off from Cuyahoga County airport. Aside from the ethereal voices on the comm radio, my only companion tonight is my flying partner, a two seat, single engine Piper Tomahawk with the call sign N2314K (pronounced November-Two-Three-One-Four-Kilo). Continue reading