A Watcher of Jets…

I have always been “a watcher of jets.”  It began when I was a very young kid at Selfridge AFB, MI in 1950 or so.  Just can’t help it… I have to look up, even though I usually know what is flying overhead.

I was on the way home from a water nursery the other day when I spotted a 4-ship of F-16s  returning to base.  I have seen these jets hundreds, maybe thousands of times and I still take pause to look up and just watch.  I take note of their spacing, listen to how they manage their airspeed (throttle control), and just watch…dreaming.  This day was no different.

I spotted a nice observation spot on the approach end of the runway and pulled over – just next to the ‘No Parking’ sign.  “Screw ’em,” I thought.  I just wanted to watch the jets; as I did as a kid.



So I sat there, taking pictures, perhaps hoping some cop would come up and tell me that I would have to leave.  I wanted to ask him how many hours he had in “Fast Movers?”

I think it kinda sad a grandfather can’t take his grand kids out to “watch the jets” anymore.   A simple pleasure they will never know.



But I suppose restricting a grandfather and his grandkids from watching jets is a small price we pay to allow all sorts of shitheads into our country anymore.  You know, shitheads who come over to our county, demanding everything, while contributing nothing… because we allow it.

Tonight I somehow feel as if I “got away” with watching jets the other day – in spite of our airtight Homeland Security policy!  The Tip of the Spear!  Or it could have been something just as simple as my timing coincided with the delivery of fresh donuts to their break room!  Who knows?  Who cares?


Just as Robert Frost once lamented about being a “swinger of britches;” I am a “watcher of jets.”  Always have been – always will be…


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