I have read with much interest over the years all the articles Keith puts on this Lime Spring Page on the airport in Cherry Grove and Bernie Pietenpol and his aircraft. I am not nearly as keen on all the dates of the origin of his plane, but I am very much in the know about being at the airport.
First, I need to say there was no security at this airport – you just came and went and were in awe of the ability of one fellow to take off and land on a small strip of farm land turned over to an often muddy runway.
I should digress just a bit here. My Dad loved mechanical things and, in particular, cars and airplanes. Right out of high school he went to an aviation school in Illinois. Sadly for him the home farm could not support itself without his help so financing aviation school became impossible and he was forced to drop out. He was never for one minute bitter about this, he just kept his keen interest in airplanes.
Sunday afternoons were quiet at our house after church and lunch. Mom might take a nap, Sheryl would play the piano, and Dad and I would take off in the car. We did a lot of looking at the crops and how they were doing. Every year I could have told you whose crops seemed to be doing well and whose needed some divine intervention. Many of our trips took us north to Cherry Grove and as soon as we hit a particular intersection I just knew we were going to the airport. Often we would meet up with Loren Forrester. He was taking flying lessons. To Bernie I was always, ‘Harvey’s girl’. I stood fascinated as the small aircraft would taxi the runway and lift off. I shut my eyes more than once when it came down to land.
One memorable Sunday my Dad told me we could take a ride in the aircraft if I would like to go. I have no idea how much it might have cost. I was in the back strapped in and given all the instructions I needed. Bernie delighted in having folks with him as excited as he was about flying. We took a fine ride and looked at the crops and streams and other landmarks that he had to point out. Looking down was a lot different than being in a car on the ground. I marveled at how fantastic it was to be in the air. I loved the sound of the propeller. I hated it when he said it was time to go in. But my smile never left my face and I surely did not shut my eyes. As Bernie helped me out he said, “Nice, eh??”. I could only say ‘Thank you” over and over.
I have loved airports since then. I’ve sat on the fringes of the major airports all over the country and just watched the ‘big birds’ come and go. The wild blue yonder is still a vast place and we are still but specks in it. I thank Bernie Pietenpol and my Dad’s love of flying for my ongoing interest. (I also learned to drive a stick shift on these back roads on Sunday afternoons when I was way too young. That might be another story.)