I am a man who has lived his boyhood dream. When I was a very young lad back in upstate New York, I spent my summers helping my dad, his factory was out in the country.

He did not give me much time off, but during a short siesta time after lunch, I was allowed to do as I pleased. I was already into Jack Armstrong, Little Orphan Annie, Jimmy Mattern, sponsored by Richfield Gas. Reading pulps like G-8 and his Battle Aces, even a member of the Junior Birdmen Club. I spent my whole day thinking of airplanes.

I was tired and looked for my favorite cool spot. It was under a magnificent Elm tree, where I could lye down on my back and stare at the beautiful puffy white clouds. The wind would rustle through the leaves and the motion of the white clouds against the deep blue sky would soon put me in a mesmerizing trance.

My thoughts would turn to the future and my hopes of some day soaring up there among the clouds. My most reverent wish was to do just that, become a pilot and fly all over the world. To me it was just a dream, but I never lost sight of my goal. Some days I would fall asleep, only to be awakened by that familiar drone, the song only a DC-3 can make. “Yes here he comes I should see him any time now. He is always on time never varying more than five minutes or so.” Soon I see the unmistakable flash of sunlight off of his wings, the beautiful outline of a shiny DC-3 low overhead. As he passes over I can see the three large red letters under the wing, they spell “TWA”. My heart leaps as I think, wow, isn’t that the most wonderful sight and the sound of the engines just overwhelm me. I think, what would it be like to fly in an airplane like that?

Years later I went to work for TWA and even spent many summer afternoons flying over those same routes. Many a time I steered airplanes, even jets a little closer to my boyhood viewing spot as I streaked past that, to me, hallowed ground of my youth. I was now, Enrico the man, saluting that young boy on the ground from years ago. How interesting and fitting that it was the DC-3 that started it all.

For over ten years now, during summer vacation. I visit my favorite spot under the Elm Trees. Some times I over fly the spot with the Big Red Waco Biplane. Many times, small tears may form in my eyes. Is it the wind racing through the open cockpit or the spirits of years ago? I smile a broad smile as I am swept away into the past. Perhaps this is the reason you will see the small wooden sign hanging from the flying wires of the Waco, It says, “Time Machine’. You see, I had to share these moments with the rest of you. the DC-3 and me, we have spent a lifetime together.

Capt H.F. “Enrico” Bottieri TWA Retired
“The Beech Boys”
1941 Waco UPF-7 "Big Red"
1946 Beech 18 "The Impossible Dream."

Posted 06-26-2007