Boys Day Out

Gramps, Justin, and I started the morning with a drive-thru breakfast, then drove to Galveston to the Lone Star Flight Museum.  Justin battled drowsiness as he stubbornly clung to consciousness.  He was pretty impressed with the A-4 Skyhawk mounted outside, but was understandably confused as to its purpose.  He was also unsure why anyone would put airplanes in a museum, but was won over immediately as we entered through the gift shop.  It was a miracle we made it to the actual aircraft hanger at all.  I hate good strategic product placement.

Gramps indoctrinated me in his love of aircraft when I was very young, showing me his model airplanes that he painstakingly researched, assembled and painted during his childhood.  Justin seemed to develop a love of airplanes today too.  As we circled the museum, he excitedly pointed his little camera at his favorite planes big or small, bright or dull.  Surprisingly, his favorite aircraft was actually the Vietnam era UH-1 "Huey" helicopter.

Soon we heard a deep rumbling of a vintage airplane engine outside, which sent us scurrying outside.  We found the source, an old Stearman biplane, the type that trained many WWII American pilots before their graduation to more complicated and dangerous models.  It was exciting to hear and see it taxi, but it couldn't hold a candle to two of the most romanticized aircraft of all time parked nearby.  The hulking olive drab B-17G Flying Fortress sat to the right, with machine guns bristling from every conceivable position.  One of the workhorse bombers of the Allied effort, it enjoys a mystique all its own made even greater by it's perfectly apt name.  To the left sat the elegant, sleek, and shiny silver P-51 Mustang, the only fighter plane with speed, maneuverability and range capable of providing the B-17's and other Allied bombers with fighter escort all the way to Germany. 

After a few moments of standing in awe, taking in their places in history, we were invited out on the tarmac to examine the B-17 up close.  We followed without hesitation, our pace quickening as we neared.  Although it's small compared to modern planes, this giant easily dwarfs a grown man, but it was especially comical to see the scale of just the tires alone compared to Justin.  He was impressed by the guns, but really wanted to see the bombs.  He was not disappointed as we crouched under the bomb bay and counted 6 bombs on the rack.  His face lit up hopefully (ours too) as we saw another family allowed to climb into the plane and look around as they wished, but our dreams of a cockpit tour were dashed as it was explained that it was an exception and it was not allowed to the general public (us).  We all visibly pouted.

Eventually we witnessed people charter flights on both the P-51 and the B-17.  We sat under a shade tree anxiously watching the planes crank up the engines, taxi, rumble down the runway, and take flight.  Gramps and I were giddy as kids, but Justin's patience began to wane following a long drive and a long time in one place.  He still behaved admirably and after watching the B-17 pass over a couple times, we went inside and let Justin run around the gift shop.  He demonstrated expert negotiating skills and managed to acquire a tank from Daddy a package of airplanes from Gramps.