This happened a few years ago, in the pre‑pandemic world. I was chugging along in my Piper Dakota from North Central Arkansas heading toward the busy Dallas‑Fort Worth airspace on a Friday afternoon. Fort Worth Center was talking fast, directing the arriving airline traffic, dealing with a few military training flights and a couple of us little guys on flight following.
Center: “Cherokee 28U, military traffic, 1 o’clock, 10 miles, 10,000, eastbound.”
I looked and didn’t spot anything, so I asked center to say traffic again—just as a B52 emerged from behind my sun visor.
Center (in a very exasperated voice): “The Big Black One.”
Me (meekly): “Traffic in sight.”
Indeed, it was a big airplane.