Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dinner at the Hardesty house was relaxing once Cindy and Ann got over the
hugs.  Ann went through her "I'm so sorry, baby" phase and Cindy responded
with "Thank you, Mizz Ann, but I'm FINE!  Really!"

   After a very good potroast meal, we retired to the living room and
picked up instruments and laughed our way through a practice session. 
Jim's daughter Teresa worked with Cindy on a duet on a couple of songs and
to our amazement, the two actually worked out a little harmony.  Sounded
pretty good.  We figured we were ready for Saturday night.

   Saturday morning we were up early, answering the knock of the guy who
was going to repair our trailer door.  He looked at Cindy.  Cindy was in
her "I'm knockin' around on Saturday" uniform of jeans, a sweatshirt that
was a concession to the cool December morning, just a shade of blue just a
bit darker than her jeans, and her hair glowed in contrast to it.

   He said, "You're the little girl?"

   She tilted her head.  "Little girl?"

   "Yah," he said.  "I heard..."

   "Oh, yes," she said.  "That was me."

   "Damn!" he said.  "Uh, sorry ...  I'm mighty glad that you're okay.  I
knew that guy.  He was not a nice person.  Went kinda goofy.  Was on
medication for a while, but he quit, an' got kinda crazy."

   I stood behind MY Cindy.  "He made a bad mistake."

   The old guy brushed his bald head.  "I guess he did.  Twelve gauge? 
Three times?"

   Cindy nodded.

   "You're kinda small to do a twelve gauge, huh?"

   She took my hand and pulled my arm around her.  "My husband showed me
how to shoot."

   "I guess he did, huh?  Baby girl, you did the right thing.  That guy,
well, they were investigatin' him for some other stuff, too.  He could be
violent."

   He looked at me.  "Mister Dan," he said, "I can get this to where it'll
close an' lock today.  An' I can fix it right next week when I can get the
materials." He looked at the bare gravel six feet from the steps.  "Not
like anyone's gonna try to come in, now, though..."

   Cindy didn't say anything.  I did.  "Not if Cindy's here." I paused. 
"And I appreciate you doing this for me.  You need some up front money?"

   "Nah," he said.  "Helen said you're like her son-in-law.  If Mizz Helen
likes you, that's good enough for me."

   "Thanks," I said.  I handed him a key.  "Just drop this at the office
when you finish.  Cindy and I are going for a ride."

   "I'll leave the key with Helen.  Ya'll be careful!"

   "Thanks!" Cindy smiled, and we left.  And hour and a half up the road it
was lunchtime and we stopped in on a promising-looking country barbecue
joint.  It was plenty good enough.  We turned around and drove back,
chatting, interspersed with "Hey!  I like this part!" on the stereo.  We
stopped at the office to retrieve my key.  Helen was there, and Judge
Charlie, in a new chair.

   I laughed when I saw that.  "I see you got your chair," I said.

   He smiled and accepted Cindy's hug.  "Yessir, I like my comforts, you
know."

   "Helen, you're still gonna run this place from here?  I mean, married
and all?"

   "Yeah, Dan.  Gives us something to do until our next trip.  We're
arguing about where to go." She started to hand me my key.

   "Nah, keep that.  When the guy comes to fiinish fixing the trailer next
week, he'll need it.  He just got us to where we could lock the door today.
Needs stuff to finish."

   "Oh, okay," she said.  "He'll do you a good job.  I use 'im all the time
here."

   "Seems like a nice guy."

   Cindy reinforced my comment.  "Yes ma'am!  He does.  Are ya'll gonna be
at our concert tonight?"

   Charlie smiled.  "We wouldn't miss it for the world!"

   Cindy said, "We'll see you there!" as she grabbed my hand and pulled me
out the door.  I waved over my shoulder, smiling.

   We had a couple of hours to kill and in ten minutes we were in the
trailer, door locked, curtains drawn, and Cindy and I were stark naked.  I
ate her up.  She ate me up.  We mated yet again.  And tangled in each
other's arms we dozed off for a short late afternoon nap.  We woke up at
five and went to help the Hardesty's move the gear for our concert.  We
were set up at six-thirty and sitting on the stage sipping cold drinks as
the park crowd started filing in.  Some of them were first-timers with us,
and others had seen us before.  And we had fun.

   We played.  Jim and I sang.  Not too bad.  But get two sweet, pretty
teen-aged girls on stage singing, and you've got something.  Cindy did a
couple of solo numbers and Teresa joined her for a couple of duets.  People
clapped and hollered and whistled and Cindy and Teresa displayed poise and
talent and a good time was had by all, us on the stage as well as our
audience.

   The crowd called for encores and we gave 'em encores.  But it WAS a park
and we were a family, well, TWO families, band, and at a little after ten
we started packing up.  Cindy and I followed the Hardesty's home and we
unloaded the amps and the instruments and bid our friends good night.

   In the truck, Cindy was sitting next to me in our favorite position, her
holding onto my right arm, her head on my shoulder.  "Babe," she said,
"THAT'S what I call a great evening!"

   I smiled at my young mate.  "Yes, sweetie, it was.  You were great!  I
liked the way you carried yourself.  You and Teresa made 'em happy!"

   "We did, didn't we?  That's just cool!  Making music and making people
happy!" She grinned broadly.  "But let's have some Beethoven!  I need a
break."

   We soon pulled into the park and were in our home.  Two showers.  Two
naked bodies.  And a bed.

   "Love me," she said.

   I wrapped her in my arms and she rolled me on my back, our mouths
engaged, tongues teasing each other.  I ran my hands down her sides, over
the sweet curves of her butt, and gripped her at the juncture of her thighs
and that sweet ass.  Her knees moved up as she straddled me.  Cindy liked
being on top, and I happily accommodated her.  When she was there, she was
in charge and she was as attentive to my desires as I was to hers.

   She looked down at me, smiling angelically.  "Babe," she said, "this is
my favorite place." She grinned.  Loving Cindy, loving WITH Cindy was fun,
joyous, happy, and she liked to giggle.  "It's my favorite place.  Except
for all the OTHER favorite places, like you on top of me, or behind me, or
us eating each other..." and her mobile bottom lined her juicy expectant
pussy up with the head of my dick and we merged into one.

   I curled up to fasten my lips over one of her small but perfect titties
and teased her nipple with tongue and teeth, biting gently, just the way
she liked it.  I knew she liked it, because she did the same to me, and
when I did hers, she tossed her head back, that red hair fanning in the
air, and bit her bottom lip and purred, "Mmmmnnnnnn, oh, Dan!" and put both
hands on the back of my head and pulled my face into her chest.  That's HOW
I knew.

   That, and her sliding forward and back over my dick as I plunged it up
and back down inside her, and her hands got more desperate, grabbing me,
pulling, squeezing, as our bodies tuned to one another and came, my semen
squirting hot inside her, her pussy rippling, her cervix pushing against
the head of my dick deep up inside her.  She collapsed onto me, into my
waiting arms and we kissed, at first hot and mobile, then just leaving our
lips molded together, breathing each other.

   When the kiss broke, she raised her head and smiled.

   "I adore you, baby," I said.

   She smiled.  "I was thinking the same exact thing." And she switched
ends and we cleaned up the juices of our copulation, a process which, if
things were even close to right, resulted in her whimpering through yet
another orgasm.  And then she crawled up and fitted herself against me and
we lay together.  And we slept.

   Sunday morning was a gray, drippy late autumn day, promising the passage
of a cold front.  Rather than venture out, we stayed in the trailer, had
cereal for breakfast, and made a pot of soup, Cindy following me through
the effort.

   "I'm sorry, babe," she said.  "I never learned to cook.  I didn't
exactly grow up with supermom, you know?"

   "I know, sweetie.  That's okay.  But I'm not a TV chef myself.  I know a
few simple things that work well, and there's enough of 'em to where I
don't get bored."

   Mid-morning the phone rang.  Tootie.  Our weekly phone call.

   "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" she laughed.

   "Nope.  Just me an' Cindy making navy bean soup."

   "Yum!" said Tootie.  "How're things going?"

   I took a deep breath.  "You won't believe our week, sis!"

   "Bad?" she questioned.

   "You don't know the half of it." And I told her the short version of
Cindy's ordeal.  And Cindy got on the phone and filled in details.  That
pretty much sat Tootie back on her heels.

   "But we're okay, Tootie.  Really!" Cindy chirped.  "And we're coming
home for Christmas."

   "That's what I was calling about, at least part of it." Cindy put the
phone on the table and hit the "speaker" button.

   "Yeah, we'll probably fly in on Saturday morning.  If you want to get
the house opened up again."

   "I'll do that," Tootie said.  "And Cindy, I'll put some potpourri in it
this time so it smells nice."

   "Good!" Cindy said.  "And you guys need to come over so we can do one of
those gumbos.  And play cards."

   "We'll have plenty of time for all that.  How long are ya'll gonna be
down?"

   "We start back up on the project the Monday after New Year's.  So, like,
two weeks."

   "Oh, that's nice," Tootie commented.

   "Yeah," Cindy said.  "It will be."

   "Okay, babe.  Brother.  I'll talk to ya'll later," Tootie said, and the
phone clicked off.

   Cindy sat back in her chair.  "Family.  We have family." She smiled.  "I
got you.  And I have a family.  And friends.  And, you know, I always
wondered how life could be, if it was like normal.  And this is it, and
it's good."

   "I love you, babe.  It's good because we have each other."

   The rain let up a bit and we visited Helen and Charlie at the office. 
Cindy told them that we were heading out on Saturday to go home for the
holidays.

   "That's nice, ya'll," said Charlie.  "We are going to Germany for
Christmas.  They make a big deal about it in Nuremburg.  We'll enjoy
ourselves.  And Steve can take care of the place for us."

   "Yeah he can.  Sounds like we all have our plans."

   Then Wednesday I brought Cindy to work with me.  By this time the story
of her exploits with a shotgun had gotten around.  It made a noticeable
difference in the way people talked with her.  That, and the other bit of
knowledge that had gotten around, a situation having to do with identical
gold bands on our two ring fingers.

   She was still like a mascot on the site, though.  I worked in the office
trying to get caught up on records and drawings and one of my fellow
engineers after another came in, saw Cindy, and took her out to see what
was going on.  Lunch came and Cindy, I, the boss and two other engineers
went to out to eat.  Four o'clock came and we were out the gate.

   "The people you work with treat me nice," she announced.

   No doubt," I laughed, "Especially when the story got around about you
and the shotgun." After a couple of weeks, Cindy was over the shock and
realized that although she'd ended the life of another person, that person,
as they say in the south, "needed killin'".

   Still, it had been a process.  I'd held her many a time when the
enormity of ending another's life hit her, even if she was defending
herself and our home.

   "Oh, Dan," she said, faking exasperation, "It's not THAT at all.  One of
'em said that I asked better questions than the people who are supposed to
be working there.  D'ya know I got INSIDE a boiler today?"

   "Uh-huh," I said.  "They mentioned that.  And showed me the pictures you
took.  Saved somebody else a trip.  And babe," I said.

   "Yeah, babe?" she looked at me.

   "Boilers are a lot more fun when they're new.  Just so you know."

   "I figured that out myself.  Even if we ARE burning natural gas."

   Which left me considering the enigma sitting next to me, a fourteen year
old girl who even gave a thought to combustion characteristics in boilers.
I laughed and freed a hand from the wheel to give her a hug.  "Dammit! 
Cindy," I said, "If you were eighteen they'd have you out here as an
intern."

   "I know," she said.  "Wouldn't that be cool?"

   "That would be the coolest thing imaginable." I was serious.  I knew
couples who needed to be apart from one another.  I'd been with Cindy every
night since her mom left almost three months ago.  And Cindy was just
perfect.  The right amount of funny.  The right amount of serious. 
Inquisitive.  Insightful.  A joy to be around.  Work with her all day and
go home with her at night?  You bet.  More of the stuff dreams are made of.

   We made our customary stop at the park office to visit a little with
Helen and Charley.  I finally, at this stage, stopped calling him "Judge"
but he was still Mister Charley most of the time.  And Helen was still Mizz
Helen.  Yeah, they both objected a bit, but I told 'em that training is
hard to break.

   Cindy recounted her day at the project, gaining Charley's rapt
attention.

   "You know, Dan," he said, "She REALLY gets excited about this stuff."

   "She's almost the mascot out there.  They call her "The Engineer's
Apprentice".  I tell 'em what day she's gonna be there and they always
manage to figure out what's the most exciting thing going on for her."

   "That's mighty fine," Charley said.  "She's quite an impressive young
lady."

   I smiled at her when she realized we were talking about her and turned
around.  "Yessir, she truly is.  She's got a mind even more dazzling than
those eyes."

   That got me a Cindy skipping over to give me a chaste kiss in front of
our friends.  "Mister Charley, you oughtta see Dan in HIS element.  THAT'S
my inspiration!"

   I shook my head.  "Darlin', you'll pass me up.  I'm just another guy
engineer.  You're gonna show up one day and completely disarm the whole
place when they look at you, and THEN you'll take 'em apart and put 'em
together right."

   Helen commented to Charley, "See!  They're like a set, bookends, salt
and pepper shakers, whatever!"

   Charley said, "Helen, my dear, I never doubted you.  It's just that
seein' 'em together makes me happy."

   That's a good note to leave on.  Cindy and I took off for dinner.

   The next night was a pizza party at the Hardesty house.  As in "Dan, you
DON'T have to buy your way in here with food."

   And Friday night we did fried catfish.  And Saturday morning we were at
the airfield early, loaded up, the plane rolled out onto the apron, Cindy
perched on top of a ladder checking the fuel levels, the truck backed into
the hangar.  I touched the controls lightly as Cindy taxied us out onto the
runway.  I was only slightly more active when she did the run-up and
take-off.

   Yeah.  It was like that.  Show her once, and let her go.  Well, to be
honest, five feet three inches has problems getting on the toe brakes on
the rudder pedals, and the nose of a Cessna 180 gets in the way of vision
when taxiing even if you're over six feet tall, and a certain amount of
flying is muscle memory that comes with practice, but her moves were in all
the right directions even if they weren't polished.  And she flew from the
right seat, having to look across the cockpit at the instruments in front
of me, but she did just fine.

   Four hours later she had us on short final for the home runway and I
followed her as she handled the toe-dance that was required to land the old
tail-dragger.  Tootie's SUV pulled up next to us as we tied the plane down
on the apron.  Cindy got the first hug as I was unloading luggage.

   I sat in the back seat and let Tootie and Cindy talk.  They laughed,
giggled, and caught up on things.  We walked into our house.

   "Wow, Tootie!  You made it smell soooo good!" Cindy squealed.

   "Yeah!  I'm gonna hate to see my potpourri bill."

   "Oh, get over it, Dan!  Cindy is a LADY!  She doesn't need a house that
smells like an armpit!"

   I laughed as Cindy glided in beside me and took my arm.

   "Put the luggage in the bedroom, babe," she said.  "We need to go to
Tootie's for gumbo.  And be nice to your sister or she's gonna spit in your
bowl."

   As I hauled the bags into the room and dropped them, I heard Tootie
comment, "You're trainin' 'im right, Cindy!"

   I chose to ignore sister's gibes.  I opened the garage door and checked
to make sure our own SUV started.  It did.

   "We'll follow you home, Toot!" I said.

   The gang was there when we walked in.  Mike, Jerry and Sheila all lined
up for hugs and then we trooped into Tootie's kitchen and filled up bowls
of steaming gumbo, then sat around the dining table and started talking
amongst the clink of spoons and bowls.

   It was asshole brother who finally had to ask, "So Cindy, can you talk
about your incident?"

   Cindy's expression was a polite little smile.  "What'd'ya wanna know?"

   Jerry pressed.  "So what exactly happened?"

   "Well," she took a deep breath.  "Dan had to work late so I was in the
trailer by myself, doin' homework (ha!) and watching TV and reading, and
somebody knocks on the door.  I was thinkin' of who that might be, and I
couldn't come up with anybody, so I said, "Who is it?" She breathed.  "An'
he said "I'm your Mom's old boyfrien' an' I wanna talk to you." And I said,
"What do you want to talk to ME about?  She moved to Vegas.  An' he said he
just wanted to come an' spend some time with me.  And I said NO!  and for
him to leave.  And he went away for a minute and came back and started
pryin' on the door.  I got the shotgun and dialed 9-1-1 and told him to go
away, that I'd called the law.  And then the door flew open and he stepped
a foot into the trailer and I pulled the trigger.  He fell down and when he
tried to get up, I shot him twice more."

   "It's a pump.  She cycled the action three times.  The deputy sheriff
had to remove the round in the chamber and three more in the tube," I
elaborated.

   Mike said, "Damn!"

   Jerry asked, "So you just lit his ass up?"

   "Yeah," said Cindy.  "It was him or me.  And Dan showed me how to shoot.
So I wasn't gonna let him hurt me.  And he was in MY house!"

   Sheila's question brought the house down.  "But, Cindy!  I mean, what
did you FEEL when you SHOT the guy?"

   Cindy smiled demurely and said, "Recoil."

   My brother blew gumbo out of his nose.

   "And THAT is why I married her," I said.  "That, and the fact that she
was taking photos inside a boiler on Wednesday.  Of course, she fits
through the manway a lot easier than my lard-assed associate."

   At around ten in the evening we bid goodbye to family and drove back
home.  With doors locked behind us, I was somewhat surprised at the next
question, although I guess I shouldn't have been.

   "Uh, babe, do you have guns here too?"

   "Yes, my love, we do." And I showed her.

   The next move was a shared shower and then my shaving and her
hair-drying and then a happy young redhead kneeling in the middle of the
bed naked.  Forty-five minutes later we were in each other's arms,
breathless, the musky smell of recent sex hanging in the air.

   "Babe," she said, "are you up for a serious talk?"

   "Sure, sweetness." I had no idea of what serious subject she'd breech.

   "I really like us having a house.  Like this."

   "I do too, sweetie," I said.  "It's been my refuge and my home base. 
Now it's ours."

   "Can we afford two?"

   "Two?  Why two?"

   "Because next year I'm going to college.  And there's no college close
by here."

   I had only given her point a tiny amount of thought before, but now she
wanted it analyzed.  "So what are we thinking about then?"

   "Mister Hardesty says that if I graduate this year according to his
plan, that I've got full scholarships.  In Alabama."

   "We don't have a house in Alabama," I noted.

   "I know, baby," she sighed.  "And please know that if all we ever had
together was our trailer, I'd want us to stay in our trailer.  Forever. 
But you gotta admit, the house thing is nice!"

   My mind wandered to a giggly wet form in a shower an hour earlier.  This
was an easy answer.  "Yes, my dear one, it is nice!"

   She continued, "So your project finishes in February.  You said you
could stay where we are in the park until I finish school.  Then what? 
Where?"

   I considered a bit.  "I guess then we need to have a place convenient to
your university of choice, huh?"

   "Can you do that?"

   We'd talked a bit on the subject before.  I had a few connections that
might parlay into a full-time staff position with a regular office and
mostly staying at one location.  "Let me see what I can do, babe.  I've
been thinking about it.  In January I can start making some calls.  But you
need to make a decision on which university you'll grace with your
presence."

   "Yeah," she said.  "I need to talk to Mister Hardesty.  He said
something about visiting them.  Maybe you and he and I can do that."

   "I think that's a good idea, babe.  We can talk to Jim when we get back,
okay?"

   "Okay!" Grin."Back yard?"

   I looked at her.  "What about the back yard?"

   "It's a cool fall night and nobody can see in our back yard, and the sky
is clear..."

   "Uh ...  oooohhhh!" I laughed.  "Let's get a blanket, then..."

   It was a little on the cool side, but there are many things about Cindy
that are very warming.  We used all of them.  And Cindy naked out in the
moonlight, wow!  Forty-two year old guys aren't supposed to chug out two
orgasms in two hours, but then most of them don't have redheaded, giggly
Cindy, either.  It was after midnight when we got back in the house, still
glowing, but chilled.  The blankets on the bed provided us a wonderful
nest.

   The next couple of days were just hanging out, visiting, riding around.
And I had an issue to resolve.

   A phone call to the airfield had me set up for my biennial flight
review, a necessity to keep my license current.  So in the early afternoon
Cindy and I showed up to meet with the airpark manager, an old friend.  He
was also a flight instructor and he could do my check ride.  He reviewed my
logbook and asked a few questions to make sure I was staying current on
regulations and such.

   Then it was time for the actual flying.  Cindy rode along in the back
seat of the plane for the second time.  Forty-five minutes later we were
back on the ground.

   "Greg," I asked, "What's the rules say about putting an unlicensed
person in the left seat?" The left seat was the pilot's seat, even though
the plane had dual controls.

   "It doesn't matter, just so a licensed pilot can fly the plane from the
right seat.  Why?" he asked.

   I nodded towards Cindy who was standing a bit off away from us.  "Tell
you what.  I'll pay you for an hour's instruction.  Let Cindy go through
the motions.  She's a little short, so she might need some help taxiing,
and you want to follow real close on takeoffs and landings, but see what
you think."

   "Her?  How old is she?"

   Cindy could see we were talking about her.  She smiled.

   "Fourteen.  I know, too young to get a student license, but humor me,
okay?"

   "Sure," he said.  "Miss Cindy, take me flying."

   Cindy bounced over and went through the steps we'd walked and talked
through many times.  At each step she explained her actions on the
pre-flight inspection.  I watched from a safe distance.  Greg looked over
at me and raised an eyebrow.

   "It's your plane, little lady," he said.

   "Then let's mount up!" she said.

   I walked back into the office and waited.  An hour later I heard the
ticking of the engine and looked out to see Greg with his hands raised,
indicating he was controlling the aircraft.  Cindy was just visible over
the instrument panel.  The plane swung into place at the tie-downs.  I
walked back outside.

   "So how'd she do?"

   Cindy was smiling, and that was a pretty good indication to me, but Greg
verbalized it.  "Take her up and let 'er shoot touch and goes and landings
to a full stop.  Show her the prescribed maneuvers for a flight test.  Get
her ground schooled.  But she can fly pretty darned good right now.  When
she's sixteen she can get a student license and accumulate hours, and she
can get her private license and fly this thing when she's seventeen."

   "That's what we read," Cindy said.  "But I still like to fly."

   "And you can fly all you want as long as you're with a licensed pilot,"
Greg said to her.  To me he said, "Seriously, no problem at all.  I'd
probably sign off her solo in four hours, just like she is."

   We tied our plane down and went inside so Greg could sign off the entry
in my logbook and I was good for another two years.  He refused payment for
Cindy's hour.  "Your plane, your gas.  And you're my friend."

   On the drive home Cindy was giggly.  "Mister Greg was nervous.  He kept
watching REAL close when I was taxiing and I made extra sure to stay slow
and careful.  And I lined up exactly right for take-off..." She recounted
the rest of her day's adventures.  "You know what an Extra is?  Airplane?"

   "Uh, yeah ...  unlimited aerobatics.  Why?"

   She grinned.  "Mr.  Greg has one.  Said if it was okay with you, he'd
take me up in it."

   "And you're gonna leave me for a guy with a faster airplane."

   She giggled.  "Yeah, after we meet him and his wife for supper. 
Besides, he says it's tandem, not side by side seating.  So I can't reach
over and give him a squeeze like YOU get." Another giggle.

   "Babe," I said, "I've done aerobatics with Greg before he got the Extra.
I don't get airsick, but some people might.  Like you." I was thinking of
Greg's first plane after the army, a little Citabria.

   "I won't know unless I try, huh?" She smiled.  "You know, most kids my
age are happy to ride a four-wheeler around the woods.  YOU get me rides in
aerobatic airplanes."

   I snorted.  "Just so you look at that as a "plus" when it's over, babe."

   She wrapped my right arm with her hands.  "I love you, babe.  I hope you
don't mind me sayin' we'd have supper with 'em."

   "Oh, not in the least, cutie.  Let's do it right.  We'll bring Greg's
wife flowers.  That ought to get him goin'."

   "Flowers?" she asked.

   "Yeah, Fred married a German girl.  We were on the same post in Germany,
and good German etiquette says that when you visit, you bring flowers or a
bottle of wine.  Heck, we may just do both."

   "Ohhhhhh," she said.

   Dinner was fun.  Greg's wife, Hanna, was much matured from the days when
she met a young American pilot in Germany, and she laughed after I ran
through my entire, very rusty German vocabulary, but she thought Cindy was
adorable, so that made a roomful of us.  Greg and I talked about old times
and current events and flying and Cindy helped Hanna out in the kitchen and
played gracious server and joined the conversation, very interested when
she found that Hanna was also a licensed pilot and had participated in
aerobatic competition.

   Three hours later we were bidding good night with Greg's invitation
modified to where Hanna would be doing the flight with my Cindy.  As Hanna
put it in English tinged with her German roots, "I vill fly mit her ... 
Men vish to show offfff too much."

   I had an excited Cindy at my side on the way home, and she was excited
for a different reason than normal.

   After showers and giggly lovemaking, we lay together in bed talking.

   "That's so cool, Dan!  Hanna's the first female pilot I ever met."

   "They're out there, sweetie.  And in a couple of years you'll count
yourself as one.  If it wasn't for that whole "She's fourteen" thing, you'd
be getting a license in a couple of months."

   "I like flying ALMOST as much as I like YOUR engineering stuff.  Can I
do both?"

   "I dunno, babe.  Depends on how you want to do it.  I do it as a hobby
and a nice way to travel.  Greg does it because it's what he does for a
living.  Hanna does it because it's a joy to her.  All of those are valid
reasons.  We can't justify it on economic grounds, but who applied
economics to a hobby?  Especially when it gives us such flexibility in
travel.  But to own a quarter of a million dollars' worth of airplane
that's burning a hundred dollars of gas an hour just to cut interesting
holes in the sky?  It's gotta be what you LOVE!"

   "When you put it like that..." she sighed.  "Sometimes reality sucks."

   "Don't I know..." I sighed in concert with my cutie.  "But we do the
best we can.  Anyway, fly with Hanna tomorrow.  Maybe we'll get lucky and
you'll hurl all over the cockpit."

   Giggle.  "Not a chance."

   "Well," I said, "If you're thinking you've got it under control, ask her
for a lomcevak.  If you can keep your stomach after THAT maneuver..." A
lomcevak is a radical, tumbling, move in three axes.  I've done 'em.  And
had to fly along straight and level for ten minutes afterward to retain MY
decorum.  At the house, I showed her videos.

   "Maybe I can try just one," Cindy said.  "Just to say I did."

   I smiled.  When I'd flown with Greg, the airplane he owned was much less
capable.  One of his buddies had something a little sturdier and I got my
introduction to a maneuver that I swear gave me the opportunity to see
myself going backward in time.

   The next couple of days were spent just living, enjoying days where
neither of us had anything pressing other than happy life.  We visited the
old folks who were still around, old friends, drove endless miles though
the countryside, flew a few hundred more, skimming at scenic altitude over
the marshes and coastal beaches.

   Cindy got her aerobatic flight in, too.  She and Hanna taxied the Extra
out as Greg and I looked on.

   "Be very afraid, Dan.  I thought I was going to give Hanna a thrill and
she'd never bother me again.  Now she's got a quarter of million dollars
out there."

   "You get to use it too, though, don't you?"

   "Oh, I do, Dan, but the sad thing is, she's BETTER with it than I am."
He smiled sheepishly.

   We watched the red monoplane disappear heading south from the airfield,
then went back inside and sipped coffee and talked about airplanes and work
and money and politics, waiting for our wives to return.  The office's
Unicom radio crackled with Cindy's voice giving the aircraft identifier and
notifying us that they were five miles out.

   "She doesn't SOUND sick, Dan.  You're screwed." Greg laughed.  "Best I
can offer you is her and Hanna can fly together whenever you're down here."

   "Yeah ...  I can't imagine doing a cross-country in that thing," I said,
following him out the door.  I could spot the little red airplane in the
distance.

   "It's not as bad as you might think, Dan.  But it's not that ol' flying
pickup truck of yours, either."

   We standing side by side when the Extra taxied back in, canopy open,
Hanna grinning like a Cheshire cat, Cindy obviously concentrating.  When
the propeller stopped, I was there to help Cindy out.

   Squeal!  "I landed it, Dan.  It's just like ours except I can see
better!" Cindy was ebullient.  "I just LOVED it!"

   Hanna was smiling.

   "Lomcevak?" I asked.

   Hanna held up three fingers.  "Und snap rolls, und spins.  Zhe is a
happy girl, Dan."

   "You're screwed, Dan." Greg gibed.  Together we pushed the little plane
back into the hangar, Hanna and Cindy walking behind us, chattering
excitedly.

   Cindy and I bid our hosts goodbye and left.  In the car on the way home,
I asked, "So, it was that good?"

   "Oh, yes, babe," she giggled.  "And that PLANE!  It's like all you have
to do is IMAGINE something and you're THERE!"

   "I've heard that," I said.  "It's a whole different design idea."

   "Yeah, I know," she said.  "Our plane, you know how we can take our
hands off the yoke and let it fly by itself?  You can't do that with this
one," she said.  "I mean, you CAN trim it up, but if you tilt your head,
you're going in another direction.  But it's some kind of fun!"

   "What about the maneuvers?  You didn't get sick?"

   "Nuh-uh," she said.  "Hanna warned me, and we started off with the easy
stuff.  And then ...  wow!  Snap rolls.  And that lomcevak thing."

   "Uh-huh.  And where's this put Cindy?"

   She smiled, green eyes twinkling.  "Just another thing you've given me
that I'd have never gotten without you.  It's exciting.  And might be fun
to play with, you know ...  but not too practical.  Wasn't enough room for
Christmas presents in that Extra."

   "Oh," I said, "You're not ready to go out and buy an Extra?"

   "Nah," she answered.  "But Hanna said I could fly with her whenever I'm
down here." She giggled.  "Why?  You thought I was gonna go off the deep
end over that?"

   "I gave it an eighty percent chance that you'd enjoy it, babe.  But when
I saw you when you stopped out there on the apron, I figured you were
hooked."

   "Almost.  Let me get thought college.  And a job.  And two incomes.  And
we'll think about it, okay?  One thing at a time."
   Practical, was my Cindy.