The Race to Reno

September was chock full of hustle and bustle. After getting back from Maine I had one day to get over jetlag before gathering the brood and hopping in the car for our long-planned family vacation, hitting the road north for Reno to see the 2008 Reno Air Races with Stacy's folks.



I'd never been to them before, and Kirk, Stacy's Dad (a.k.a. "Poppa"), had been wanting to get us all together up there for several years. The plans finally "took-off" so to speak...

The road trip was long but essentially uneventful. N slept peaceably while Mt. Whitney in all its glory rolled slowly past on Hwy 395. L artfully walked that fine line of general annoyingness that every four-year-old has perfected, pinpointing that perfect level of overall pissiness to drive her parents nuts, while being just shy of annoying enough for Daddy to deem it worthwhile to find a rest area for an "attitude adjustment." We did deem it worthwhile to make one stop at one of Stacy and my favorite wayspots, Schat's Bakery, in Bishop, CA. We picked up some pecan pull-bread and some "special treats" (read "bribery") for the kids.

Eventually we made it to Reno, kids long sacked out, Stacy a little carsick, and me in jetlag delirium tremens. We stayed at the Grand Sierra Resort in some really cool rooms that Kirk got us. Must admit, though, Reno's not exactly a beautiful town. At least it was dark when we got there.



The following day it was off to the races at Reno Stead Field just north of town. Dozens of little private prop jobbies, all gussied up, were on the tarmac and in the air. Really beautiful models. I see there are enthusiasts with the same attitude toward vintage aircraft as their kinsmen with the classic cars. Some real attention to detail. When we got there there was already a race in progress. Within minutes there was smoke billowing out of one of the propeller engines and everyone got quiet as he looped out of the flight path and down for an emergency landing. Stacy had mentioned on the ride up that she was a little uncomfortable going because she didn't want to watch someone end up as a grease spot on the desert floor. This didn't do much to set her mind at ease.

After the race Stacy, Lynne (Stacy's Mom) and I took the kids to the display tarmac where we were able to walk around, and sometimes board, a bunch of really cool military aircraft. The high point was that we got to enlist both of the kids in the air force and they were deployed that very day. (We wish.)

I particularly enjoyed going inside a KC-10 transport/tanker. A modified DC-10, the plane was huge. Lynne and I took L in and explored the huge transport bay, then we got to go down into the cramped little pod that hangs off the back of the plane where they manage the mating and demating of the fuel hoses during in-flight fighter refuelings. An air force dude gave a little demo of how it all worked. Really cool.

After that L got to make a stop in the cockpit. When the air force guy wasn't looking I think she flipped a couple of switches. Hope they weren't too important.

When Lynne, L and I got out of the KC-10 we were greeted with this sight. Guess maybe Mommy ran off to join the air force too...


Soon it was back to the race stands with Poppa. I really wasn't expecting L to enjoy the show, what with all the noise and heat, but she was actually fascinated. Whenever we would leave the stands to go "potty" or get a drink or whatever, she would drag us back anxiously by the arm so as to not miss anything. I think this put Poppa in hog-heaven.

N wasn't quite as enraptured
by the entire event.

Around lunch time L's favorite event of the day kicked off: a performance by the Thunderbirds aerial acrobatics team. They really were impressive. There were four formation fliers who did every conceivable loop and twist in unyielding tight-pack formation. Then there were two "solo" jets that would zip about dodging the formation fliers and being generally devious. A couple of times when the announcer surreptitiously directed everyone's attention to some benign point in the sky, the crowd would suddenly scream in panic as one of the soloist would rip over the stands from behind, low enough to throw a peanut at. The shock waves would compress your chest.

One of the soloist was a female pilot that Poppa named "Sneaky." L prattled on all afternoon about Sneaky and her trickiness.

What's the word?...

Eventually Stacy, Lynne and N maxed out and they headed back to the hotel. I was planning on staying with just Kirk, but L would not be extracted. She stayed with us another hour, chattering the entire time, until the day's finale - a demonstration of the F-22 Raptor fighter/bomber.

As we were walking back to the car amid the hoard of people L rode on my shoulders and chatted up a storm, reliving all the adventures of the day, all the airplanes she climbed on and Sneaky's devious attacks. Commenting on the last event, the Raptor demo, she said she really liked watching the airplane, except it "got too loud when it turned its candles on." I heard a snort and chuckle from a couple of old aviation aficionados walking next to us who had obviously been listening in.