He would be an excellent pilot, but I shall overcome him in a desperate struggle. I could see the enemy plane in my sights, with the pipper on its body and the bullets flying. It would explode in the air, and the pilot would eject and parachute down. Then I would do the most spectacular victory roll over the squadron, and would be welcomed on the ground with photographers and TV cameras. Then I would become one of that exclusive group of victorious pilots, those aces who shot down enemy planes.
Wars are over.
I see myself launching into a beautiful thermal at Zichron, in Israel, shooting up to those lovely active Cumulus clouds, and setting off in a north easterly direction. Then I visualize every step in the long flight, calling out and giving position reports over each waypoint on my way. I live through all the difficult decisions of such a long and glorious flight, watch the weather pattern change as I drift inland, and finally - the landing, in the northeastern tip of my tiny country, just short of the Syrian border. That's how I always dreamt of doing my first 100k flight. And my GPS is switched off, so I won't even know when I've passed the 100-km mark.