It is now 5:25 p.m. on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, a day that will live—as certain as does Pearl Harbor Day—in infamy. I am sitting in room 212 at the Baymont Inn near the Indianapolis, Indiana, Airport. I will be staying here for at least tonight and probably even longer. According to local reports, I am very fortunate to even have a room because of the five to six thousand passengers stranded, like fellow pilot John Baker and myself, in this city that we had never intended to visit.

Precautionary Orbit Escort missions (Duckbutts) involved positioning rescue aircraft at strategic airborne orbit points along a preplanned oceanic route of flight.  These Duckbutts primarily supported jet fighters or other single engine aircraft which cross these routes with minimum navigation and communications equipment.  The rescue aircraft would be in a position to give immediate assistance at all times.

Sometimes pilots have a wingman, one they don't know about until the last minute. Santiago Arbelaez discovered that when he was about to land on runway 9L at Opa Locka Airport in Florida. His Cessna 172 was losing the race to his shadow, which was just over the numbers.

Astronaut Mike Collins ended up heading the new Air and Space Museum when he left the astronaut corps. One thing important to him was a section devoted to general aviation, and notifications went out for suggestions. Fr. Dick Skriba of Chicago recommended my brothers and me. No one doubted we were weird in many ways, but Dick felt we did offer something unique to the flying world: three brothers, Roman Catholic priests, and all priest pilots

The day came for the Change of Command. The reviewing stands were close to the flight line, distinguished guests were greeted and escorted to their reserved positions at the review area. Suddenly there was noise in the flight line area. Quiet hours were in force for 30 minutes before the ceremony until 30 minutes past. What the heck?

The BT squatted in a three-point landing about 500 ft. from the end of the runway. As it rolled it seemed to be doing that walk to the left that every taildragger pilot has experienced in a crosswind. At about the 1000-foot marker the left wheel eased off the side of the runway. My mind perked up. “This is going to be interesting,” I said to myself.

You’ve heard the cliche: flying isn’t dangerous, it’s just unforgiving. The unforgiving nature of aviation has serious consequences, which we should remember every time we sit in the left seat. The stakes are simply higher than in almost any other part of life, so our day-to-day risk management tools are not enough.