As we sat under the wing of our airplane Monday afternoon, enjoying a constant flow of various aircraft landing in a seemingly unending stream on final approach to runway 27, a reporter from one of the area newspapers came by and asked us what made us come to Oshkosh. The answer was somewhat elusive in the moment of afternoon relaxation and I’ve since cogitated on the subject.
We left Baton Rouge last Friday and flew to Cadillac, MI, where my wife and I added a SES (single engine seaplane) rating to our certificates. It was wonderful—but, then, what part of aviation isn’t? We flew across Lake Michigan Monday morning and landed at EAA AirVenture Oshkosh in time to avoid the rush. With camp set up and the constant influx of everything from ultralights to the C-46, I thought to myself, "Man, this is the essence of Oshkosh." I was wrong.
Later in the day we strolled the flight line. A row of T-34s, a row of Bird Dogs, a row of P-51s, a row of Beech 18s, the big Warbirds, the Lancairs, Ercoupe Alley, the pack of Long Eze’s, the Albatross and Goose. Wow! This is the essence of Oshkosh. I was wrong.
Tuesday came as the orange morning sun peeked up between the V-tail of the Bonanza parked east of us. The early misty morning was punctuated by the few who were walking to the showers and sitting hunched over the camp stove cup of coffee. This is the essence of Oshkosh, I thought. I was again mistaken.
Tuesday afternoon I wandered through the Fly Market—vendors hawking everything from old parts for old airplanes to new parts for new airplanes. Sunglass vendors, log book systems, an artist painting the back of leather jackets, folding camp chairs and on and on. This was the essence of Oshkosh. Wrong again.
Last night we fired up the grill and grilled some succulent shrimp. The chicken in Mexican sauce was also tasty, as were the Portabello mushrooms. A bottle of wine, and we sat back to watch the comings and goings again. The sun was setting behind us and the wind began to lay. Man alive! This is the essence of Oshkosh. Nope! Not this time either.
As the darkness deepened, a few folks began to gather. In a short time I looked around our campfire (Well, no open flames! Our campfire was one of those little ersatz lanterns with a battery running two little florescent tubes). There I was, sitting with a 30,000+ hour airline pilot, a fellow who has a nationally syndicated radio show, a computer programmer, a physician, an aeronautical engineer, the CAF chief pilot and examiner, an aviation attorney, a woman who had flown the Air Race Classic when she had only 90 hours total time, the president of an aviation company, an Air Force F15 driver, and little ole me. The conversation was simple. It was complex. It was all about aviation. In the glow of that little lantern last night I found the Essence of Oshkosh.
