"While we're outside, how active will we be?"
"Hmm." She thought about her answer. "Walking, perhaps slowly."
"But not, for instance, an outdoor picnic."
"No." I brought the sweater, just in case. I could leave it in the car.
"Did you have a nice date with Gwendolyn last night?" she asked before we stepped outside with all my things.
"Yes, I did, thank you."
"Good. Then I don't have to postpone this."
"Nope. You are free to ravage my lips unimpeded with the knowledge you're stealing kisses that should belong to Gwendolyn."
She laughed. "I rather doubt you're ready for ravaging yet."
"Will you be touching me like you did on Tuesday?"
She turned to face me. "Are you trying to figure out what we're doing?"
"I want to know what to expect, but you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell."
"Have you pried any more deeply since our conversation about that?"
"No."
She smiled and nodded. "This is going to feel more like friends than a date until dinner time. Then it will be a date, and if you allow it, lots and lots of touching. We will arrive back home very late."
"Well then," I said. "Unless we need to raid my refrigerator for sustenance, I am ready to go."
She said she had everything we needed and helped me carry my things to her car. Once on the road, we made small talk about nothing important.
We had driven for about fifteen minutes, most of it on the freeway, before she said, "Will you humor me?"
"Maybe." I grinned.
"Open the glove box, please."
It was right in front of me. I took a moment to figure out how to open it, but when I did, I found a black silk scarf waiting for me.
"I don't want you to see where we're going. Will you use that as a blindfold and agree not to try to peek?" She paused. "If you agree to not peek, but then do, I will be upset with you."
"Are you kidnapping me and selling me into white slavery?"
She laughed. "No. If I were to kidnap you, it would be to keep you."
"Well, that's all right then." I wrapped the scarf twice around my eyes and tied it with a double knot, then adjusted it. There was a tiny bit of light coming in from the bottom, but as long as I didn't intentionally try to peek, I couldn't see a thing. I told her that.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're being very mysterious," I told her.
"Does it make you nervous?"
"No. Just curious. I'm like the cat."
"I hope this cat can control her curiosity."
"Within limits."
We exited the freeway and I tried to figure out where we were. I didn't have a clue.
"So why all the mystery?" I asked.
"The next part I want you to see all at once, not little bits. Just a few more minutes. Thank you for humoring me."
We made a few more turns, then we came to a stop and she opened her window for a moment. There was a pause, then we moved forward and drove slowly, making a variety of turns.
"All right," she said. "We're there. I want you to stay in the car and no peeking. Please, Pamela, no peeking."
"No peeking," I agreed.
"I'll be back to get you in a couple of minutes."
She slipped from the car, and I sat there quietly, my hands in my lap. The mystery was actually rather fun, and being blindfolded left me trusting her a little. I decided I liked that, too.
She was gone for several minutes. I heard motor noises twice, but I couldn't have placed them. Other than that it was quieter, as if we had found a refuge from all the noises of the city. I heard no cars drive past us, no car doors slamming, no voices.
She made two trips to the car to collect our things. "Just a few more minutes, Pamela."
Finally she came and opened my door.
I turned to face her but of course, couldn't see anything.
"I want you to get out and take my arm," she said. "It's a short walk."
"Are there four hundred people out there who are going to stare at me in this blindfold?"
"Not a person in sight," she said.
I unlatched my seatbelt and slipped out of the car. She moved me to lean against the car while she locked up, then she took my arm. We walked across gravel before stepping onto pavement. It was chilly, and I was glad I had my jacket.
"My sweater?"
"I have it," she said. "Almost there."
The pavement changed feel and then she brought me to a stop. Then she stepped behind me and adjusted the direction I was facing. "Close your eyes, Pamela, while I remove the blindfold."
"Closed," I said.
I felt her untie the scarf then she removed it from over my eyes. She stepped closer behind me and wrapped her arms around me, her head over my right shoulder, and she said into that ear, "Open your eyes."
I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a small airplane. A very small airplane.
I looked around. We were standing in a small hangar at the airport. Not the main airport, but one of the small ones. I looked back at the airplane, then over my shoulder at Moira. "You fly."
"Yes."
I looked back at the airplane. "We're going somewhere in that?"
"Unless you say 'no'."
She was waiting for a real reaction from me. I didn't know the first thing about airplanes. It had two wings and was clean. And small. I couldn't have told you anything more than that about it.
"Is it safe?"
"Yes. I am a very good pilot."
"What if something breaks?"
"The vast majority of airplane accidents are due to pilot error, not mechanical failure, and most of those fall into specific categories such as running out of fuel or doing stupid stunts."
"Where are we going?"
"I'd rather not tell you."
I thought about getting into it and decided it would definitely qualify as an adventure. I hadn't really ever thought about flying in a small airplane, but with Moira piloting it, the idea was appealing.
"Is it a nice airplane?"
I could tell she was disappointed by the question. "Yes."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know anything about them. Will you show me why it's nice?"
"All right," she said. "First, look at that one." She pointed to another airplane in the hangar. This one had a wing over your head when you sat in it whereas in Moira's plane, it was like you were sitting on the wing. "Look. It's kind of boxy, right? And it has those struts hanging out in the wind."
"Struts?"
She walked me over to the plane. "These," she said, putting her hand on a piece of metal tube that was attached to the middle of the wing on one end and descended at an angle to attach to the bottom of the body of the airplane. "It's there for support." Then she pointed at bumps on the wing. "These are rivets. They stick up into the slipstream when you're flying, with each one giving you a tiny bit of drag, that slows you down."
"All right."
Then she pointed at the wheels. "The landing gear is fixed. It hangs out there in the wind the entire time, slowing you down some more." She took me to the front of the plane and pointed to the propeller. "This is a fixed pitch propeller." She paused. "That's harder to explain."
"All right."
She took me to her plane. "Now compare it to mine."
"All right. First, no struts."
"Right."
I walked up to it. "No bumps."
"Right. The rivets on this plane are flush mounted, which is more work, but smoother."
I looked back and forth between the two planes. "This one looks sleeker."
"Yes. Faster?"
I looked back and forth again. "Yes, sleeker and faster."
She crouched down and pointed to the wheels "The wheels retract, hiding up inside the wing once we're in the air."
"So this is a faster plane?"
"About fifty percent faster. That one," she said, pointing to the
other plane, "flies at about 95 knots. This one flies a little over 150."
"Knot?"
"A little faster than one mile per hour."
"So, one hundred sixty miles per hour instead of one hundred?"
"About, yes."
Then she pulled me to the front of the plane and pointed to the propeller. "This is a constant speed propeller. Again, it's hard to explain, but the effect you care about is that once we're in the air, it is quieter with less vibration. I care about those plus the fuel efficiency."
I turned to face her. "So it's a beautiful airplane?"
She smiled. "Yes. Are you willing to fly with me?"
I returned her smile. "Of course. It sounds like fun." I paused and gave her a critical look. "You won't get me sick will you?"
"No. No loop-di-loops."
"Where do I sit?"
"You'll have to get in after I do," she said. "Unfortunately, the only door is on the passenger side. I didn't want to make you wait in the car while I did the preflight inspection, so we'll be a few minutes."
At that, she walked me to the left side of the plane and climbed onto the wing. "I'll explain how to get in shortly," she said. "For now, wait on the ground."
I nodded. She opened the door and climbed in. I heard her flip some switches and do some things inside. Then the plane spit up on the ground.
"There's a leak!"
"It's okay. That was intentional. I'll explain in a minute."
The wriggled some controls, and the various pieces of the plane wagged at me, then she climbed back out with a checklist in her hand and a little plastic cup. "We start here and we check for things that look wrong. She looked under the plane, then began walking around it clockwise, heading first for the tail. She brushed her fingers along the skin of the plane as she walked. She examined a little hole in the side of the plane, then moved to the tail. She gave it a little shake, then walked to the back of the plane. I followed her.
She pointed to bolts that were holding the rearmost parts of the back wing to the rest of the back wing. "I make sure the bolts are properly seated. Nothing loose." Then she did the same thing to the back of the tail that went up and down. It moved, too.
We continued to walk around the plane. There was another hole to look at, then the parts along the back of the front wings to check. When we got to the front of the plane, she opened a fuel cap in the wing and looked into it. "Full." She showed me. The fuel was an inch or two from the top. She put the cap back on.
She crouched under the wing and reached forward. I didn't see what she did, but when she crawled back out, the little plastic cup was full of a slightly blue liquid.
"Is that gas?"
"Yes," she said. "There is a little drain at the lowest point of the wing, and water is heavier than gasoline. If there were any water in the fuel, I would be able to tell."
At the very front of the plan, she looked into two big holes right behind the propeller, then ran her fingers slowly along the propeller. "Feeling for nicks," she said. "There are a few very light ones, which are okay, but anything serious means we wouldn't fly."
At the other wing, she checked the fuel again, then she crouched under that side and checked the gas there, too. Then she pointed to the fuel on the ground. "That spit out from the lowest point of the entire fuel system. If there were water in it, you could see. I've never had that happen, but you check anyway."
We finished our tour of the airplane and she turned to me. "I need to pull it out of the hangar and close up."
"Do you want help?"
"No. Just don't let me run you over."
She stepped to the front of the plane. I stepped back. She grabbed the propeller and a metal handle that was attached to the front wheel and began pulling. The plane moved slowly at first, and I could tell she was pulling as hard as she could, but then it began to roll, and it looked easier. She pulled the plane out of the hanger and onto the blacktop, then turned it to the right and let it come to a stop. The she waved me clear of the hangar door and closed it slowly before rejoining me outside.
"Fit to fly. Last chance to change your mind."
"No way," I said. "This cat is just more curious than ever."
She smiled broadly. "I'm glad. I hope you enjoy this. We will be in the air for about two and a half hours. I hope you don't need to use the bathroom."
I did some math. "Four hundred miles."
"Honey, please don't ruin this. Let me surprise you."
"Are you going to blindfold me again?"
"No."
"Are we having steak for dinner?"
"Maybe," she said.
"They have nice steaks in Omaha."
"They do."
"There's nothing to do in Fargo," I observed.
"Fargo isn't that far, anyway."
"We're not dressed for International Falls."
She glared at me. "You're pushing my buttons."
I grinned. "I wonder how far it is to Rapid City."
She smiled but didn't say anything. "Are you done?"
"For now."
"Brat."
I bowed. "At your service." Then I stepped into her arms and surprised her with a quick kiss. "I love our date so far."
She showed me how I would climb into the plane, pointing where I could and could not step. "You can hang on to this handle, and there is a handle inside the door. Do not hang onto the door itself."
"Right."
She climbed in first. I waited until she had moved into her seat, then carefully followed her. While standing on the wing at the door, I saw she had a towel on my seat. I stepped onto the towel then slipped into the plane. She whisked the towel out from under me as I sat down.
"There are two sets of controls!" I said. "You're not expecting me to help, are you? Am I the co-pilot?"
"Nope. You get to ride along and enjoy the trip. I need you to pull the door closed. I can't reach it without crawling all over your lap."
I reached up, stretching, and grabbed hold of the handle on the door.
"Just close it gently," she said. "I'll handle it from there." So I brought it to a gentle close. She reached past me and did something, and I heard the door latch closed tightly.
Then she adjusted her seat, and I saw pedals on the floor moving in front of me.
"Will you teach me?" I asked her.
I looked over and she was smiling. "I would love to. Do you really want to learn?"
"Yes."
"All right. You can adjust your seat just like on a car. There's a lever underneath you. Pull it up and slide your seat so that you can reach the pedals with your feet, but make sure you have enough room that you can keep your feet out of the way when I'm flying."
It took me a few tries, but finally I was adjusted. I could reach the pedals. Then she did something with the steering wheel. It went forward and backwards, and she made sure it didn't punch me in the tummy.
We buckled up. It was more complicated than a car, and she handed me a set of headphones that were huge.
"You'll want that after we start up," she said. "Last, last chance."
"This is going to be fun, Moira. I'm a little nervous, but not afraid."
"Good." Then she consulted a checklist, flipping pages until she arrived at the one she wanted. She started doing things with all the switches in front of her. "If you take real lessons, the instructor will teach you all this," she said.
"Not you?"
"I can, but I'm not a professional flight instructor, so it wouldn't count if you were to decide to get your license."
"So a flight instructor would have to show me again?"
She nodded.
"I would rather learn from you first, even if I have to learn again from someone else."
She smiled, then reached over and patted my knee. "Next time. If you're really curious, I'll give you books to read first."
She flipped a few more switches then said, "I'm going to start it up. It will be a little bit loud. You'll want the headphones after
that."
"I won't be able to hear you."
She reached over and pointed at a microphone on the headset.
"Ohh," I said.
She flipped one more switch, then turned the key. The propeller turned around a couple of times, then the engine roared to life. Moira adjusted some controls, and it grew quieter. I put on my headphones and watched her put on hers.
"Can you hear me?" I heard over the headphones.
"Yes."
She looked over and adjusted my microphone. It had been sticking up alongside my ear. She moved it until it was right at the corner of my mouth. "Try again," she said.
"Better?"
"There we go. Now, I need you to make sure you keep your feet clear of the pedals."
"All clear."
She did something, and the engine grew a little louder, and we began rolling forward. We rolled until we had reached the end of the row of hangars we were next to before we came to a stop.
Then she began playing with the radios and tuned in an automated voice that was describing the weather. She pulled a clipboard out from a side pocket and began taking notes. She listened to the recording twice before flipping switches on the radio again. It grew quiet.
"I need to talk to the tower for a minute, so no talking."
I nodded.
"Crystal Ground, Mooney three seven five yankee delta, at northeast hangers with information papa, request taxi to the active."
I heard another voice say, "Mooney three seven five yankee delta, proceed to active, hold short, runway three two right."
Then Moira said, "Hold short, three two right. Yankee delta." She paused. "There we go. You can talk again."
"What was that?"
She gave the engine some gas, and we began to roll forward.
"We asked the tower if we could drive over to the beginning of the runway. He told us yes but told us don't actually go onto the runway without additional permission."
We made a left turn, and I looked over. The tower was out my right window. Straight ahead I could see downtown Minneapolis.
The ride was rougher than in a car. I could feel every bump. I grimaced at one bump and she said, "Shock absorbers are heavy. It's smooth in the air, and that's what matters."
I nodded.
We arrived at what appeared to be a parking area near the end of the runway. She spun us around so we were facing the way we had come. I watched as another airplane landed. It rolled along the runway then took off again.
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