Took a ride out to Pungo. Mainly to get the hell out of the house 'n enjoy the deep freeze the station wagon can turn the front seats into.
Got a few miles from the airport 'n saw one in the air. Too far away 'n too high to tell anything other than a single engined, low wing airplane. At the airport, or museum, I found Chuckie outside with a whole bunch of what looked like tourists around 'er. Front parkin' lot was about as full as I've seen it.
Went on back to the Fighter Factory 'n stopped it the circle where they're slowly puttin' stuff out for 'nother buildin'. Had concrete sewer pipe laid out 'n a back hoe diggin'. A wonderful noise was goin' on 'n I could see about half a wing from where I was. Figgered that was it 'n when they shut it down I could see the blades slowin' to a stop.
Ennyways. I got out 'n lit one. Don't smoke in the station wagon. Old fella runs a fork lift out the Fighter Factory with a bunch ah shippin' palettes on it 'n he's headed my way. Wave at 'im when he comes past. Get back in the station wagon with the cigarette filter in my left hand so's he could see I hadn't thrown it on the road. He pulls up 'side me 'n shuts it off. Here comes the 'ya know ya ain't supposed ta be back here' speech I'm thinkin'. Nope. Exchanged 'how ya doin's' 'n comments 'bout the heat. Said it was hotter inside than was was out so he volunteered to run the fork lift so's he be in 'n out 'n creatin' a breeze for hisownself all day. Had a real nice conversation. Never said a word about me bein' there.
Young family. Late twenties maybe. Kid four or five. Nuts. It's probably a quarter mile from the main terminal ta the Fighter Factory 'n they're walkin' it........... on black top.
Left there 'n rode out ta a couple places lookin' for an eagle or two. Found a juvenile soarin' o'er a field by Hell's Point golf course. Right where my youngest's sig/o took a cell phone picture of an adult perched inna dead tree last Friday. Amazin' ta watch 'em. They can stay up so long 'n never flap a wing. Just soarin' in circles 'n they don't wobble like the vultures do.
Apart from that, hit a small farm stand 'n picked up a couple cantaloupes for the fat lady. Nice firm ones. Sign said they were Carolina grown. See if she knows the difference. She ought to. I think the woman would try'n live off 'em if she thought she could get away with it.
Nice ride.