High flying…

“From out of the clear blue of the western sky comes Sky King!” This opening sound from my favorite television program aired each Sunday evening, so many moons ago. It was all about adventure and the setting for this popular children’s program was situated in the fictitious town of Grover, Arizona, with Schuyler “Sky” King, his niece Penny and her brother, Clipper. Sky King operated from his Flying Crown Ranch and both he and Penny were constantly involved in one adventure after another. Somewhere along the line, Clipper moved on to the United States Air Force, leaving Sky King and Penny to cope with the criminal element, spies and lost hikers in the “Songbird”, King’s twin-engined Cessna aircraft.

For the almost eight years this show ran, I so wanted to be just like Penny who would often fall into the hands of various bank robbers, a few spies and other questionable individuals. Many of the story lines for those growing up in the 50’s and 60’s found cast members in some type of near-death situation but rescue always came along, with just a few seconds to spare; this was always the storyline on “Sky King”.

Looking back, I find it interesting as to how these villains were usually depicted as reasonably intelligent and believable especially since their motivations instrumenting bad behavior carried a bit of logic as opposed to random evil, common in many action dramas of that time.

My weekly ritual of becoming “Penny” would surface every Sunday evening where I’d imagine myself living on the mystical Flying Crown Ranch, high-flying on the Songbird, guided by its twin engines mounted on wings and helping with all types of rescues and captures of criminals. For me, it was an escape of sorts, a respite, where I could be anyone else but me, for twenty-five minutes.

From the Writer’s Workshop: What TV character did you want to be as a kid? Why?

Signature

Spinning wheels…

Wheels. Not just any wheels, four of them. When that magic time of life stepped forward, learner’s permit clutched tightly in my hand, I was ready to fly on the first cylindrical object which would help me to move easily, more like anywhere, over the ground. I even sacrificed an entire summer, taking driver’s ed in a stuffy car crammed with three other hopefuls and a tormented teacher with his hand on dual controls and a rosary hidden somewhere. Or alcohol.

Of course, like many young people, I had already experienced driving, sans the legal paperwork, thanks to a boyfriend with a truck, standard shift at that. Carefully rolling down a few side streets was nothing less than exhilarating, except for a few stalls and gear grinding now and then. Don’t judge. It was a learning process which helped pave the way to an escape plan and the pathway to finally getting that golden ticket, my driver’s license.

After that, the desire to hit any open road was a constant. No amount of pleading directed at my parental units resulted in my being allowed to drive one of their two vehicles. Trust me, I did the patronizing offering to run errands on their behalf and drive old ladies to church on Sundays. I even washed and cleaned both family trucksters, hoping that keys giving me even one hour of driving solo would be bestowed. That never happened unless one parent came along, commandeered music on the car radio and periodically yelled that I was driving too fast or missed a stop sign. Even at the ripe old age of seventeen, the embarrassment of driving through town with one parent riding shotgun and being seen by friends was almost traumatic. Given that, most parental insistent copilot opportunities were given a pass.

All in all, those times were happy in that they opened the door to the freedoms we so longed for during those awkward years of lingering between childhood and getting our feet planted in adulthood. Little did we realize, as we gingerly climbed behind the wheel and headed off to anywhere but where we were, that some of the best years of our lives would be behind us in the rearview mirror.

From Writer’s Workshop… Think back to an important experience in your own past—either happy or traumatic. Pick a single physical detail or action that embodies your feelings about that experience and describe it.
I chose to combine this prompt with an earlier one about “when you learned to drive”. Both, important experiences with a blend of both happy and sometimes traumatic.
Signature