Ultra-Light Fright Flight By Mariah Burton Nelson a [* ’M TOO YOUNG to die,” said Larry That's s “how it came about that I flew in a flimsy, open-cockpit aircraft not with nor- . mal trepidation, but with death on my mind. Before liftoff I talked with Bruce Peters, owner of Washington Sky Sports, a compa- ny spécializing in tiny, dragonfly-shaped air- craft called Spectrum Ultralights. Peters - has 12 years of piloting experience, he as- : -_. sured me. Even if the engine goes out, the plane can safely glide down. It can land in a cornfield. “You’re in for a treat,” he prom- ised. The day of liftoff we drove to a short run- way behind a southern Maryland trailer ‘park. I wore my aviator shades and my clos- est approximation of a flight jacket; Bruce wore normal clothes. After Bruce’s pre- - flight inspection, I did my own. Much to my horror, I saw plane parts fastened with bun- ° gee cords, zippers and duct tape. (“Non- ; essential parts,” Bruce explained.) Made of Dacron, the wings were sewn in the zig-zag stitch I used to use in home ec. Maybe it’s me, but I find it difficult to trust an airplane constructed on a Singer. To make matters worse, Peters, a dimple-cheeked man with the springy step of a Muppet, is only 25 years old — which, since that’s younger than I am, is very young. Turns out his 12 years of experience began on a hang glider at age 13. For the past six years he’s been performing loops, stalls, and wingovers in Stearman biplanes in Bealton’s Flying Circus. My fate was in the hands of a kid who gets his jollies flying upside down. “Today 1 is a good day to die for all the Fox, another Weekend writer. “You | Approved, Fo pr Release 2oposa GlA- BORSR 99 7R2RONOT A948 0001- 8 ‘ Bruce Peters in an open-cockpit ultra-light plane. longer in my reckless teens or roaring twenties, I have noticed that the more in- tensely I love life, the less romantic I feel about an early death. Yet I can’t play it safe just because cau- tous colleagues and homemade airplanes petrify me. “I don’t need to fly because fly- ing doesn’t frighten me; I need f to fly even though it frightens me,” writes Diane Ackerman in On Extended Wings, the saga of ar flaing lacenne ha ner Lying iessons. me, real courage Te 160 Tfic, (Odi COUTaES . . has to do with keeping one’s passion for life ‘ intact, one’s curiosity at full stretch, when things in my life are present,” said one js daily hemmed in by death, disease Horse, which was very evolved of KBAroved-Ea ripRiaas @AOK0! OBAdka when it came to the possibility of my ex- chanaina lifa far ana airharne thrill tadav it was as good a day to die as any. Alsn T trusted Rruce On the way to the DAYLIFE BY LARRY MORRIS ‘plate: Vader 1) carefully and confidently, even slowing to the required 5 mph through °*and how to keep it level. After a while he” . ' put his hands on my shoulders. “Congrat- the trailer park. He spoke with knowledge and humility — a rare combination at any age -—— about weather patterns and the physics of flight. Before I knew it ] was strapped into the dragonfly, head protected by a helmet (“If we crash, should I try to land on my head?”), con- trol stick between my knees. In front of me was a motorcycle-sized wind- shield; behind me was Bruce, now elevated” to the status of savior. “You’ve got controls back there, too, ri Oe Any 90 I Boaas into the ChArdRiote control stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left. and the redals under my feet all First we hopped, baby-bird style. Taxi down the runway, nose up, wheels off the ground, wheeee . . . and set her down. “Do that again,” J said, a child tossed in the air. On the second hop, I was grinning like a toothpaste commercial. On the third, we abandoned the earth altogether. I can’t speak for Orville Wright, but I’d bet that the first time he soared — not that 12-second, 120-foot skip but his first real flight — he felt, along with elation, another primal feeling: terror. After all, many of his predecessors died in the attempt. Flying is not natural, despite the ubiquity of flying © dreams; anyone with sense should be, at very least, nervous. Flying in an ultralight is like heading toward the heavens on a lounge - chair. You’re not even in the plane — there is no “in.” You're seated, legs outstretched; lean to the right or left and a seatbelt is the only thing keeping you. from your first and .... last skydive. But it was, indeed, a treat. Cruising di- . rectly into the wind at 3,000 feet, I felt sus- pended, motionless, like an Amelia Earhardt actress with a fake earth below. We peered at the shimmering Potomac, its yardstick bridges, Monopoly neighborhoods. I looked for cornfields, just in case, and spotted in- . stead our own shadow, surprisingly beau- tiful as it bumped over trees and houses. My stomach plunked into place as if, after abandoning it on a hundred youthful Ferris wheel rides, I finally caught up with it. . Bruce showed me how to turn the plane ulations,” he said. “You’ve been flying the plane for a full minute.” “Don’t you dare have a heart attack,” I~ answered. The truth is, I like to be scared, though I prefer having been scared. So when we touched down, returning to the conspicu- ously flat two-dimensional world, I was all smiley again — scared silly — and grateful for another risk taken -and survived. Thanks, Larry. 1) @02004800 MaptERCTON SKY SPORTS offers introductory r $29.95 and promises solo proficiency for $i. 200, which includes an unlimited nuzober of lessons. tralights are-sold-for $4,900-to $15,000, Contact Ultre CCOOT Wishadiald Dee Come RAT Alameda