I am conscious.  I don’t open my eyes yet but I can sense the sun.  The house is quiet except for the gentle snoring of my St. Bernard, Brandi, stretched out on the carpet next to me.  I slowly stretch and feel the warmth of the wine-colored comforter covering me.

I tentatively open my eyes and look out the skylight just over my head. I can see the little dust particles dancing in the air, captured by a golden shaft of light slanting through the window. The particles abruptly disappear at the edges of the shadow in the room.

I slide my right hand across the bed and feel the warm back of Dianne, my wife of thirty-three years, still sleeping.  My attention returns to the skylight.  My eyes focus on the tops of the evergreens fifty or sixty feet above me.  They are not moving against the clear blue sky.  It is Saturday and I am going flying!

I slide out of bed and try to avoid stepping on the large brown and white furry body on the floor. Brandi’s head partially lifts as she looks at me with big sleepy eyes. “What are you up so early for?” she asks just before her head thuds back down.  I whisper an answer “It is Saturday and I am going flying!”

I slip my feet into a pair of lined light brown moccasins and quietly pad to the glass French doors in the bedroom, open one, and turn left down the short hallway. Besides the moccasins, all I have on is a pair of white jockey shorts. The coolness in the air reminds me of that! Three or four steps down the hallway and it abruptly empties into the inside of the twenty-five foot high geodesic dome my wife and I call home.  The sun literally pours through the fifteen by sixteen foot wide south-facing greenhouse windows.  I have to squint my eyes for a moment against the brightness as I make my way over to the large black Morso wood stove in the center of the house.  In go a couple of pieces of wood to help with the chill of the morning.

I check again the trees outside the big pentagon skylight in another part of the ceiling. They are dead still. That is good because it is Saturday and I am going flying!

Back to the bedroom. Can I do twenty five pushups? Yes, barely! Puff, puff! Into the bathroom I go for a quick pit stop, a shave and a short shower.  As I towel off and dress I think about the day. Meet a couple guys at the field. Decide, breakfast at Cherry Ridge or Sky Manor? One is north and one is south.  They have runways running about 90 degrees to each other. It won’t matter – no wind! Will the plane start alright? It should, it is in the low thirties and I, perhaps unnecessarily, left it plugged in. The Tanis heater will keep the engine warm. The plane likes that!

I retrieve my flight bag from the closet and call for weather to confirm what I am seeing out the windows. What next? Kiss my still sleeping wife goodbye! She smells warm and drowsily tells me to be careful.  Hey! I am a PILOT and I fly a MAULE! Silly girl! Somewhere, deep inside of me, I make note of her concern. But, it is Saturday and I am going flying!

Out the back door and to the garage I walk. I am thinking that I am going to take my 1993 Black Dodge Stealth with almost a quarter million miles on it. I don’t drive it all the time like I used to. I have another car to relieve some of the pressure on it. The Stealth has been with me since it was new. I am still undecided if I will be buried in it or the Maule.

The Stealth starts effortlessly. Out of the driveway and down from the top of the mountain, as it is called in Pennsylvania, I go. The air is starting to warm up. Maybe there will be a little wind and a few bumps later in the day.

Two stop signs, one stoplight, and less than three miles later I pull into Pegasus Airpark. The sun is starting to dry the sparkling dew off the 2,700 foot east/west turf runway.  I park on the grass next to a long white hangar.  My friend Tim is starting to pull his blue and white Champ out of a two-plane hangar 200 feet away. I wave to him as I open the side door to my hangar and walk inside.

The hangar has five pairs of south facing doors and matching north facing doors on the other side. The inside of the building is gloomily lit by the sun leaking underneath the doors that are hung on a track. A big brown and white foam filled fabric snake lays curled up on the Citabria a couple planes down.  Next to me a plastic barn owl hangs from a 172. They are performing guard duty against the wrens.

My plane is located in the second bay on the left.  As I unlock and slide open each of the two doors the sunlight spills inside on my maroon-on-white Maule.  It gleams in the light and I have the feeling it is ready to leap into the air awaiting only my commands! After all these years I still feel a shiver of anticipation because I am a pilot, it is Saturday and I am going flying!