Just when I thought I had experienced all of the great foods of Philadelphia, I awoke to the smell of Taylor's Ham frying on the grill. Mom was sending me off to fly with the best breakfast ever. Taylor's Ham and scrambled eggs, done just perfectly. Add Taylor's Ham to your list of the best Philly Phoods.
Mom and Dad drove us to the airport and watched as we lifted off from North East Philadelphia airport into a stiff breeze right down runway 33. We turned left to a heading of 300 degrees for about 12 miles until we neared Wings Field (the birthplace of the Airplane Owners and Pilots Assn in 1935 -- the same year our planes were first flown).
At Wings Field we turned to a heading of 240 degrees to check out a little grass strip at New Oxford PA, where my brother Jim owns McCloud Lincoln/Mercury, and where my sister Kathy is also working as Rental Manager. We circled the field twice and it looked to be in good condition, but I was concerned that the recent heavy rains would have made the field too soggy for a safe landing.
We continued south to the Chesapeake Bay, certainly one of the crown jewels of American geography. Our destination was to be two-fold: Art was going to fly in to the Bay Bridge airport and I was going to continue farther south to Easton (both in Maryland). Art's plan was to rent a car and drive to Rock Hall and visit a friend and neighbor from the Cayman Islands. The plan threatened to fall apart when he was within a few miles of the airport and radioed them to find out if there were any rental cars. Nothing available at all. Everything closed. This is the Fourth of July. Nobody works. They suggested Easton as the nearest place to rent a car.
At Easton, it's the same story. All rental car places are closed. As a last resort, Art begs the guy selling gas at the airport to rent him his own personal car, and a hundred dollar bill finally makes the deal. So Art is on his way to Rock Hall and will stay there overnight, while I stay in Easton.
Easton MD is the home of my very good friend and roommate in my freshman year in college. Dave Hill was born and raised in this small Eastern Shore town, where his father owned the local pharmacy. Since college, Dave went on to become a dentist and returned to Easton to practice, then went on to start up a retirement home, nursing home, and a bank. The family drug store has now grown to several branches and the name Hill is recognized everywhere in Easton. Dave has done quite well. And he shoots some very serious golf.
Dave and his beautiful wife Debbie have graciously agreed to put me up for the night, on short notice. We spend the afternoon talking, and the evening visiting his grown daughters Lynda and Cynda and enjoying a great dinner of fresh Silver Queen locally grown corn and grilled steaks, outside on the deck of Cynda's (and husband Horace) new home. Another big treat came with the summer's first sighting of fireflies ("lightning bugs"). Now there's something we just don't see in California.
The Eastern Shore of Maryland is a magical place which few people know exists. Directly across the Chesapeake Bay from the very busy cities of Baltimore and Washington, DC, the Eastern Shore is wonderfully laid-back, sparsely populated, small towns where everyone knows everyone else, and the lifestyle is centered on the water. Talbot County, where Easton is located, has more miles of shoreline than any other county in America. It is alive with many creeks and rivers which wind a convoluted path to the Chesapeake Bay. Great homes front on the water everywhere and a quiet, genteel southern hospitality and friendliness are the norm.
Flying over this water wonderland is a delightful treat. There is a high overcast, but the breezy conditions make the flying just a little bit bumpy. There are many grass fields, and hopefully we will be landing on some of them in the next few days when things dry out a bit.
Tomorrow's weather will be magnificent. I can't wait to fly again.