This is the sunvisor of my pickup:


People often ride in my crew-cab Silverado.  Sometimes from the back seat I hear, “Steve, he never misses a meal.”  (Actually I do.  It’s the time-flies-by diet.)

The fork was given to me by a friend’s wife at her own funeral.  It was handed to me as I left the church.  The meaning is this:  The best is yet to come.  After eating, have you ever been asked if you want to keep your fork?  It’s because dessert is coming. 

I’m a believer.

Airplane business is really good now.  This is the first year in a long time I did not make the journey to Oshkosh.  Just out-of-control busy.

When things seem too busy and uncontrollable to me, good things still find their own way in my life.

Last weekend, I had a completely unplanned weekend in Custer State Park with some of my best friends in life,  especially Mark and Kay West.  I happened to need a hangar after a sales demo, and my good friends hooked me up.  Not only were they at the cabin that weekend, but there was also an among-friends hot air ballon rally.  Hot air ballooning in the Black Hills, cayacking, cabin living, great friends.  What a lucky break.

Luck?

Kay mentioned about her daugher Lisa coming to Sioux Falls this same week for a short visit.  Nothing really on the agenda.  Well, Lisa, is an amazing swing dancer.  Last Christmas, Kay showed me a video of Lisa dancing in an LA street dance.  Could not wait to dance with her some fine day.  I love to dance.  Knowing Mark loves to fly, I suggested Mark fly us all to Omaha to dance.  As it turned out, I needed to be there anyway to fly with a customer who bought a new Cessna Stationair from me last week.

Could I have imagined this ever?  Guess I did at Christmas last year.


I had customers in town this week from Canada and France.  The Canadians flew in from Oshkosh in the new plane I sold them a week ago.  They came only to go for a ride in my hot air balloon.  So, Friday evening, weather looked promising.  A little too much breeze kept us from doing a free flight, so I teathered the balloon to pickup trucks and gave 15 or 20 rides.  People kept coming, seeing the balloon from the interstate highway.  To several excited passengers, I asked, “Did you think you’d find yourself here when you awoke this morning?”  How could they have imagined?

The Frenchmen were negotiating with me on the price and details of my plane for sale.  It’s a high-performance, pressurized, long distance aircraft.  Unfortunately for them, I had another domestic buyer wanting it too.  Because the US buyer made his offer after the Frenchmen arrived, I allowed the French to sleep on their decision.  (Typically the deal is much easier to sell in the US.)  The Frenchman took my price.  Then Jean-Pierre asked me, “do you know a ferry company to bring me the plane to Nice?”

I’ll be 40 this month.  One time, I’d like to make a transatlantic journey, flying myself.  Maine, Greenland, Iceland, Denmark, France.  Maybe this is the time for an all-expense-paid birthday celebration.  Jean-Paul also owns a helicopter to restaurant hop.  Another surprise.

I’ve figured out not to plan the future too much.  What’s in store?  My advice: Get yourself a fork.