> I'll never forget my first airplane ride.

> And even today, I never pass up a chance to go flying. I like the small planes best.

The first time I ever flew was in a glider, at the age of fifteen (8 years ago now - doesn't time fly?). I cycled out very early to Strathaven, which is a town just south of Glasgow, to watch the tow cable being set up and tested before heading across to the caravan that served as an office and paid my twelve pounds for a flight. After the first few test flights, I was the first person up.

The glider was much bigger than I thought it was going to be - it looked like a massively elongated teardrop with wings. I never found out what model it was, but it was originally used by the RAF to train pilots. Mostly wooden, with an open canopy, it still had the original military roundels painted on it. The pilot explained the harness to me, strapped me in, and then climbed into the seat behind me. In front of me was a stick that might have been an ex-RAF chair leg (I wasn't brave enough to ask), rudder pedals, some worryingly ancient looking instruments (the compass was a tiny statue of a chinese man that always pointed North) and - right between my legs - a little wooden handle with a length of wire attached to it. While I was taking all this in, the pilot must have signalled to the guy controlling the cable tow.

"Are you ready?" He asked, in the most nonchalant manner.

"yeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Was my reply.

The cable tow on a glider pulls you first along the ground, and then as the speed gets high enough to create enough lift on the wings, up into the air - you go from 0-60 miles per hour in less than 2 seconds. It's kind of like a rollercoaster, but up instead of down.

By the time I hit my exclamation mark (I heard later that one family had decided not to bother flying at all that day after witnessing my shrieking ascent) we were about a thousand feet up.

"You see that little wooden knob?"

"Yep."

"Pull it."

And I did. The cord released the cable, and we were suddenly free - the glider responded by rising almost vertically for a second or two before settling back into normal flight. Much to my adolescent shame, I whimpered a bit.

"D'you want to try flying it?"

Now that was a silly question - why else had I cycled nearly 25 miles at 7 a.m.? Of course I did. I may well only have banked left, banked right, dived, and executed a few more simple turns, but I was flying, and it was one of the most exhilirating things I have ever felt.

I know it's sad, but I was kind of expecting a similar sensation the next time I flew, years later, on a commercial flight. I just felt like a freight package, and might as well have been on the bus.

I'd love to go gliding again. Except next time I'll take a cushion for the seat.

Bo"famous last words - there might be a *few* bumps on landing..."urne