To commemorate the independence of the good ole’ US of A my son and I strolled over to the World War II Warhawk Air Museum here in Nampa, Idaho. Over the weekend they were hosting an event complete with flights of many of their aircraft (and some on loan).
Of course the whole outing was under the guise of “something good for our son to do.” Fifteen minutes into the excursion and he starting complaining about his stomach hurting. Well, that forced me to reveal the truth of the situation–that I wasn’t about to leave until I got to see some WWII planes buzz the tower.
Luckily he soon got over his discomfort and fell in love with a P-40 painted like a tiger (or shark, or tiger shark). A few other planes were on the docket in front of the P-40’s so we simply had to watch them all. Oh the sacrifices we fathers make for our children!
Until this past weekend I’d never seen a P-38, P-40 or P-anything in flight in person. I’ll admit, the first time nearly made me P my pants. These bad boys are surely the Harleys of the sky. Sure modern crotch rockets might be faster. But something about the rumble combined with the rough and tumble set my hair on edge.
It’s no wonder these things struck fear into the hearts of our enemies. Even without machine gun fire strafing the ground around me I was fully impressed. A truly inspiring event, seeing these planes in flight renewed my gratitude for those who flew them and for the freedoms I have to revision them through fiction which I can freely sell.
Viva U.S.A! Viva Dieselpunk! Viva the Fourth of July! Viva this!