Robert Zarracina

I fell in love with airplanes shortly after birth. Born in San Diego, my family lived under the approach / departure flight path of Lindberg field. I remembered how I could feel the ground shake and hear the B-36s (aka the flying cigar) before I saw them in the sky. Countless times my grandfather would take me for a ride along Harbor Drive where I would gaze at all the parked B-36s. We also visited the North Island Naval Base, since he was a retired Marine Corp Lt Col, where I would watch military aircraft takeoff and land for hours.

Several decades passed; still haunted by the thought that I would never learn to fly. Just thinking about it made me air sick not to mention the expense. A close friend of mine was taking flying lessons when he invited me to come along with him on a night flight. I could feel myself getting queasy as I sat in the back of the aircraft while Bill and his instructor made final preparations. That turned out to be a fateful night; afterward recalling a life altering joke. The good news is there is baseball in heaven, the bad news is you're pitching tomorrow. I asked myself, if I knew I were pitching tomorrow, is there anything I would regret not having done while I was here on earth. Yes, learning how to fly.

I hadn't talked to Bill for over a month and a half since that night flight and gave him a call. Surprised and glad to hear from me he asked me what's been going on? I said not much except for one thing; I got my private pilot's license. I still don?€™t have a clue how it all came together.

Today with over 2,583 hours of flight time, single engine, multi-engine, instrument and commercial ratings and being checked out in numerous general aviation aircraft, plus a certified part 107 drone pilot, and President of our local radio-controlled flight club, I still look up at the sky whenever I hear an airplane over head. I guess when you love airplanes, some things never change.