Having just gotten back into RC planes, a hobby I dearly loved, but abandoned due to a back injury for a couple of years, and then just let it slide for way too long after I recovered, I am reminded of a friend at my old flying club Ft. Lauderdale, 30 years ago, when I first started flying.

He was a very good pilot, and went out of his way to help and teach others, and helped me a lot. At the young age of 40 he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and had a year to live. He decided he would spend a good part of that last year of his life flying his beloved planes as often as he could, building even bigger ones, and challenging himself to fly better. This left no time to help others, and he had to constantly apologize and blow off people who constantly nagged him for help, and didn't know of his condition. Those of us who did picked up the slack. Whenever I saw him getting accosted by a noobie asking for help, I'd run over and offer my services.

Towards the end, even with the cancer affecting his motor skills, and developing a tremor, and his poor health sapping his strength, he was out there every fucking day flying. Even with tremors, the man was an artist in the air, and a better pilot than I will ever be. It was a joy to watch him fly.

He flew every day until nearly the day he died, doing what he loved.

Shit, tearing up thinking about it....

This comment was edited on Sep 20, 2024, 11:26.