Sometime in the late sixties when I was very young 6, 7? my father would fly about the Washington state area from little airport to airport. On one flight we dropped into this field in the middle of nowhere with one heck of a good diner surrounded by little brightly colored planes. I had finished my burger and fries quickly because of all the smoke and noise and begged him to allow me to go out on the deck to enjoy the sunny day, promising I'd stay put and not climb on the planes.
While on the deck, playing dog fight with what I today think was a yellow plastic Vautour and blue FJ Fury, there was this odd pulsing, whooshing, sort of wine circling the field that I instantly realized was some new sort of plane I'd never heard before; not some turbine job, something else very odd. I strained my eyes scanning the area but it always seemed to be behind me when suddenly this sleek, dark green, odd but exquisitely shaped plane shot down the runway at very high speed.
I knew the plane was old, not being a jet and in somewhat of a state of disrepair but was still mesmerized by it as it circled again then landed. To my delight it veered off the runway approaching the diner's deck eventually parking just about even with my nose a few feet away. I can still remember the pilot was grinning ear to ear. Hell, I can even remember the smells of the diner, the avgas, grass, oil…
When he got out and gave me the ok to come near, I about leapt at the plane. I eventually begged him to let me sit in the cockpit but my dad came out and scolded me as I was climbing up the ladder. Later that day, on the way home, I saw that plane blast past us in the distance with Mt. Rainier as its back drop.
The plane was a P-38. It has a very distinctive sound if you've ever heard it. Ever since, I've had a passion for anything about war birds.