One Dad Story Leads To Another

Painting A Sign On An Airplane

In my last post I noted that my Father, who worked for GM, supplemented our family income by painting signs on weekends. Usually, he painted windows for businesses having sales, or gold leaf signs on doors of doctors and dentists, or a delivery truck touting the virtues of some business. Since I was young and restless, and to give my Mom a break, Dad would let me accompany him on his sign-painting trips and be his "gofer". That meant I got to sit around a lot but do the dirty work when needed.

Once, much to my delight, he was asked to go to the local airport and paint the name of a doctor friend of our family on the side of his Beechcraft Bonanza. The plane was unique back then for its unusual tail configuration - a "V" design that was a first in the recreational aircraft field.

The day in question was windy; not a good thing for an lightweight aircraft sitting outdoors. To help anchor it, the doctor heaped some sandbags on the co-pilot's side and asked me if I would mind sitting in the pilot's seat for some extra weight. To me, that was a dream come true! I had to sit in the pilot's seat by myself for about an hour.

So, what does a seven year old boy do in a real airplane while sitting in the pilot's seat?

Let's see.

For starters, I single handedly destroyed all of the enemies of the United States with a series of strategically planned bombing runs. Having tasted blood, I then flew spy missions over New York City looking for Mafia types. Spotting them easily from the air, I would swoop in and shoot them down with with a cleverly concealed .22 caliber pistol I always carried in my shirt pocket for just such an occasion. In particular, I was looking for any bad guys who might be holding June Allison as a hostage, taking them down without mercy and then delivering June to the local deputy sheriff who was in charge of Hollywood Star Hostage Detail.

And finally, as my coup de grâce, I spotted the Frankenstein while flying over Chicago. We engaged in a vicious gun fight - he from his castle, and me from the Beechcraft Bonanza. Luckily, I defeated him and flew back to the airport to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor which surprisingly was presented to me by June Allison.

As I stepped out, exhausted from all that imagineering, my Dad smiled and asked if I had enjoyed myself.

"Enjoy myself? Are you kidding? By the way, I'm dieing of hunger. Can we go get a Coney Island Hot Dog."

Mission accomplished!