His free arm swept in a semi-circle in front of him. There is somethin' in you'n me that makes us come here and makes us take that machine up yonder, and whatever that is it will be with us forever. It is here. The old man held his hand over his heart. He pointed at his brain.
Aviators are special people.
Not better people but special. We are special 'cause we know down deep inside where we belong. At an airport or up there drilling holes in the sky. We are not truly happy or comfortable anywhere else. That makes us special 'cause there aren't many people in this dang world today who are that happy.