Do you remember your first flight? I know I do. That image of a 12-year-old me climbing into the right seat of an old Bell 47 helicopter at Greater Rockford Airport in 1963 is indelibly etched into my brain. I even remember the pilot’s name, Rick. Actually, he called himself Captain Rick.
The other night on the Airplane Geeks podcast I listened as my co-host and master storyteller Micah Engber told us about his first trip aloft, as only Micah can. He said he was 13 at the time.
Micah shared his story in two forms. Read the copy below or click on the podcast player above to listen to the audio of his story. Readers along the eastern seaboard may recognize Micah from the stories he’s presented through Maine Public Radio, the area’s NPR outlet as well as the Airplane Geeks.
But don’t be too hard on Micah for that snappy picture of himself in the tux, ready to head out to a high school prom. It was all he had from that era. I’ll bet most of us guys have one similar.
And BTW, If you have a first flight story of your own, why not share it with us in the comments below or e-mail it to me at rob@jetwhine.com
Rob Mark, publisher
Remembering My First Flight
By Micah Engber
As we record today, on August 26, 2024, it’s the 55th anniversary of my first flight ever. Now back in 2013 on Episode 238, this story was the very first piece I ever submitted to the Airplane Geeks, but based on this emerald anniversary, I thought it might be time for a retelling, live this time, and with a few updates and revisions based on a little research I’ve been able to do over the 11 years since its first airing. So here it is, warts and all.
But before we go any further, I need to tell you a little bit about my family. Many listeners know of my mother, Harriet, who left us a bit over a dozen years ago as an octogenarian Airplane Geek, but this story involves my paternal grandfather.
My Grandpa Max lied about his age to join the Navy. The Navy believed he was born in 1896. Being that his government birth records were destroyed in a fire many years before his death, and he lied about his birth year for so long, even he wasn’t sure of the truth. No one ever knew if he was really born in 1896, 1897, or 1898.
We don’t know what year he joined the Navy but we do know he was so small and skinny at the time, that the recruiting NCO weighed him in, turned him down, and then sent him away with a nickel telling him to go down the street and buy a quart of milk and a hand of bananas. He was instructed to eat and drink it all, and come back to be weighed again. Grandpa Max dutifully followed his first orders.
He said that part of his Navy training included sailing the square rigged USS Constellation, built in 1854, to her final resting point in Baltimore. He was part of the Mexican Campaign in 1914 serving on board the USS Celtic off the coast of Vera Cruz. In 1916 as a water tender on board the Armored Cruiser USS Tennessee, later rechristened Memphis, he sailed down the east coast of South America, through the Straights of Magellan, up the West Coast and through the then new Panama Canal. During World War I he was assigned to four piper destroyers in the North Atlantic.
While not a submariner at one point he was onboard a submarine during a test dive (probably an O, R or S class boat, he couldn’t remember). He said he wasn’t bothered by the close quarters, as he always served in an engine room, but it was one of the only times he was really worried while on board a Naval vessel, he just wanted to know they would definitely be able to surface.
After leaving the Navy Grandpa Max joined the Merchant Marine but came shore-side permanently when he married Grandma Sadie. He worked for the US Customs Service until he retired a bit less than a year before I was born. As I hope you can see my Grandpa Max was one tough old salt. [Read more…] about Remembering My First Airplane Ride