I am Pilot, hear me roar

Eugene will be getting his Private Pilot's liscence in a couple of months. He envisions weekends full of the family happily flying around the great plains of the midwest (aka - lots of fields). I envision weekends of terror that every flight in that little deathtrap of steel may be my last. See, I'm not afraid of flying - I have no problem with boarding commercial jets and looking up the aisle to catch a brief glimpse of the official-looking captain with his official-looking wings pin and hat. I trust him based on looks and ignorance - good enough for me. My problem is I've never actually seen my husband fly and only know him as the laid-back jokester that wears t-shirts and shorts when he goes "flying" and jumps 2 feet in the air when he sees a spider (which I'll be combing the inside of any plane for before flying in it with him). As a lead flight-test engineer Euge is actually over-qualified to be flying around in a dinky-little Cessna -which is my other major problem - these so-called "planes" are nothing more than old K-cars with wings. I guess putting your life in your spouse's hands is always a little scary and requires a leap of faith. But I guess that's what marriage is in a nutshell. I love the guy and have to trust he knows what he's doing. Maybe I'll ask him to wear his flight suit, don a hat and change his name to Brad - that may do the trick.