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8 September 2008
Speed Week!
The Little Squirt and the Tin Flying-fish
by Stuart McCarthy

Memories of a racing seaplane
© 2008 by Stuart McCarthy

The Little Squirt And The Tin Flying-fish
by Stuart McCarthy

As far back as I can remember, I've always had a thing for airplanes.

I even remember, back in the day, when  my pop took me along to the air race held out by the lake. My pop and I had gone to see other races before, but this was something special!

I musta been 'round eight or nine at the time. Oh, how I have fond memories of that summer's day. Not long before the race was about to start, the two of us snuck a look at some of the floatplanes sitting on the lake, awaiting their pilots. It was there that I first set eyes on the damned finest-looking seaplane you ever did see! There she was-as sleek as a silver teardrop; the brilliant rays of the mid-day sun reflected off her polished, mirror-like surface. She was one of them new racing monoplanes. Musta been about thirty feet in length, from tail to nose. This kinda reminded me of the tin toy seaplane my uncle Roy bought me for my birtyday, one time.

I looked longingly at this wonderful machine, as though admiring her beauty had sent me into some deep trance. A short while later, as the race started, I looked on from the stand beside my pop. I saw that very same plane climb into the air ahead of all the other planes like it was some silver flying-fish soaring from the depths of the river. Man, you shoulda seen it! It was truly a sight to behold. The mighty roar of her inline engine was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. If there was some way to describe it, I'd have to say it was like some alluring siren's song.

My, it sure was a day to remember. I would have many wonderful dreams about this day for nights on end. They usually involved me being the pilot of that silver floatplane which I so desired; I would race just over the clouds without a care in the world.

Nowadays, in my mature years, looking at my bruised and battered old tin floatplane takes me right back to those glorious childhood days.

The stuff that memories are made of.

© 2008 by Stuart McCarthy
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