It's really a sweet little airplane. Enough horsepower has been up in that if she goes on floats she will be able to get up on the step without waiting for the curvature of the earth to drop away. Miss D. has really done a great job with the rebuild.
When we were leaving the airplane after tying her down, a pilot came over and said "are you girls going to Oshkosh? "My friend grinned and said "My husband is in the other direction" with a smile that would make anyone understand.
After that, we headed into the city. As we were leaving Fresh Market in Broad Ripple, Miss D. said, "Is that Tam?" Sure enough, it was! She was riding a Broad Ripple SUV. We yelled out the window "Tam!" and honked whereupon she hurried up as if zombies on Rollerblades were after her, and off down an alley while we tooted again chasing her with the truck. It was like the chase scene in the movie Bullitt, except we were in a parking lot full of hippies so it was like Bullitt without the speed and excitement.
As we lose sight of her, I called Roseholme Cottage, a short distance away, and we were promptly invited over to visit with she and Roberta X. Alas, with temps in the 90s and perishables in the back of the truck, we couldn't stay long.
I successfully avoided buying one of these at Fresh Market. I've lost almost 20 pounds in the last six weeks. Another 10 to go and I will be back at mumble mumble pounds, my weight prior to the January surgery and recovery. Woo hoo! Besides if Miss D. needs some pre flight goodness, there is still the little key lime cheesecake that I made left at home.
click to enlarge (evil laugh)
But in anticipation of frosty beer at the Broad Ripple Brew pub we hiked a couple of miles up and back on the Monon Rail Trail.
A member of the shore party is going off the beaten path, and he's wearing a red shirt. We'll never see HIM again.
Then a brief pass by the Art Park. Hippies, arts, crafts, you name it. Trails to hike, stuff to climb on. Bees!
Ah, a cold one to cool off and surveil the damage. Broad Ripple Brew Pub.
One last word of advice.
If you are out and about among artists and Bohemians and you rip out the back of some very well worn shorts, and a nice lady among them offers to quickly patch them at her little establishment so you are not arrested. . . . . . . and she's a theater person . . .
Well, you should EXPECT to get Winnie the Pooh on your ass instead of, you know, denim or camo fabric.
Tactical Pooh. Oh bother (sigh).