CIA-RDP96-00792R000700480001-8

Approved For Release 2000/08/11 : CIA-RDP96-00792R000700480001-8
DAYLIFE . SPORTS . RECREATION
Ultra-Light
Fright Flight
By Mariah Burton Nelson
'M TOO YOUNG to die," said Larry
Fox, another Weekend writer. "You
go."
That's how it came about that I flew in a
flimsy, open-cockpit aircraft not with nor-
mal trepidation, but with death on my mind.
Before liftoff I talked with Bruce Peters,
owner of Washington Sky Sports, a compa-
ny specializing in tiny, dragonfly-shaped air-
craft called Spectrum Ultralights. Peters
has 12 years of piloting experience, he as-
sured me. Even if the engine goes out, the
plane can safely glide down. It can land in a
cornfield. "You're in for a treat," he prom-
ised.
The day of liftoff we drove to a short run-
way behind a southern Maryland trailer
park. I wore my aviator shades and my clos-
est approximation of a flight jacket; Bruce
wore normal clothes. After Bruce's pre-
flight inspection, I did my own. Much to my
horror, I saw plane parts fastened with bun-
gee cords, zippers and duct tape. ("Non-
essential parts," Bruce explained.) Made of
Dacron, the wings were sewn in the zig-zag
stitch I used to use in home ec. Maybe it's
me, but I find it difficult to trust an airplane
constructed on a Singer.
To make matters worse, Peters, a
dimple-cheeked man with the springy step
of a Muppet, is only 25 years old - which,
since that's younger than I am, is very
young. Turns out his 12 years of experience
began on a hang glider at age 13. For the
past six years he's been performing loops,
stalls, and wingovers in Stearman biplanes
in Bealton's Flying Circus. My fate was in
the hands of a kid who gets his jollies flying
upside down.
"Today is a good day to die for all the
Horse, which was very evolved of him,but
when it came to the possibility of my ex-
channing life for one airhorne thrill today
BY LARRY MORRIS
Bruce Peters in an open-cockpit ultra-light plane.
longer in my reckless teens or roaring
twenties, I have noticed that the more in-
tensely I love life, the less romantic I feel
about an early death.
Yet I can't play it safe just because cau-
tious colleagues and homemade airplanes
petrify me. "I don't need to fly because fly-
ing doesn't frighten me; I need
to fly even though it frightens
me," writes Diane Ackerman in
On Extended Wings, the saga of
her flying lessons. "To me, real courage . . .
has to do with keeping one's passion for life
intact, one's curiosity at full stretch, when
one is daily hemmed in by death, disease
DAYLIFE
it was as good a day to die as any.
Also I trusted Bruce On the way to the
plate: Vader 1) carefully and confidently,
even slowing to the required 5 mph through
the trailer park. He spoke with knowledge
and humility - a rare combination at any
age - about weather patterns and the
physics of flight.
Before I knew it I was strapped into the
dragonfly, head protected by a
helmet ("If we crash, should I
try to land on my head?"), con-
trol stick between my knees. In
front of me was a motorcycle-sized wind-
shield; behind me was Bruce, now elevated
to the status of savior. "You've got controls
back there, too, right?" I squeaked into the
First we hopped, baby-bird style. Taxi
down the runway, nose up, wheels off the
ground, wheeee ... and set her down. "Do
that again," I said, a child tossed in the air.
On the second hop, I was grinning like a
toothpaste commercial. On the third, we
abandoned the earth altogether.
I can't speak for Orville Wright, but I'd
bet that the first time he soared - not that
12-second, 120-foot skip but his first real
flight - he felt, along with elation, another
primal feeling: terror. After all, many of his
predecessors died in the attempt. Flying is
not natural, despite the ubiquity of flying
dreams; anyone with sense should be, at
very least, nervous. Flying in an ultralight is
like heading toward the heavens on a lounge
chair. You're not even in the plane - there
is no "in." You're seated, legs outstretched;
lean to the right or left and a seatbelt is the
only thing keeping you from your first and
last skydive.
But it was, indeed, a treat. Cruising di-
rectly into the wind at 3,000 feet, I felt sus-
pended, motionless, like an Amelia Earhardt
actress with a fake earth below. We peered
at the shimmering Potomac, its yardstick
bridges, Monopoly neighborhoods. I looked
for cornfields, just in case, and spotted in-
stead our own shadow, surprisingly beau-
tiful as it bumped over trees and houses.
My stomach plunked into place as if, after
abandoning it on a hundred youthful Ferris
wheel rides, I finally caught up with it.
Bruce showed me how to turn the plane
and how to keep it level. After a while he
put his hands on my shoulders. "Congrat-
ulations," he said. "You've been flying the
plane for a full minute."
"Don't you dare have a heart attack," I
·answered.
The truth is, I like to be scared, though I
prefer having been scared. So when we
touched down, returning to the conspicu-
ously flat two-dimensional world, I was all
smiley again - scared silly - and grateful
for another risk taken and survived.
Thanks, Larry.
things in my life are present," said ABaroved ForRelease 2000/08/1da: CIA-RDR96.00792R00070048000'SHIGTON SKY SPORTS offers introductory
control stick in my right hand, the throttle
in my left. and the pedals under my feet all
essoif?for $29.95 and promises solo proficiency for
$1,200, which includes an unlimited number of lessons.
Ultralights are sold for $4,900 to $15,000. Contact