•September 21, 2016•

By Jerry R. Ginther
NP  Columnist

“San Angelo tower this is Cessna 1-2-9-9 uniform,” I spoke into the microphone unsure of what I would say next.

“Good afternoon, 1-2-9-9 uniform,” came the reply from the air traffic controller in the tower.

What had started out as a routine photography flight was about to get more exciting than routine. We had departed Waco, Tex. earlier in the day with three souls on board, my 12-year-old son, my cameraman and myself. I was piloting the single engine Cessna 172, a high wing, four place, aircraft we used for our photography missions.

The first leg of the flight between Waco and Brownwood was uneventful. The only concern I had was the extremely high temperature which was fast approaching the 100-degree mark. It was a hot summer day, and it was going to get hotter. Checking my logbook, I see it was July 24, 1987.

We decided we would land at Brownwood for fuel and refreshment. The refreshment would include a can of soda for my son Warren who occupied the back seat during the flight. That soda would become part of the excitement not long after our departure from Brownwood.      Login or Subscribe to read the rest of this story.