Chicago, Winter 1935
If Barbara had not fallen in love with Paul Riordan on first sight, she certainly did on the second. She could hardly wait for the following Sunday, to see him again. It made her wonder if that had become even more important to her than getting another flying lesson.
When she saw Paul Riordan the next Sunday, he again looked bathed in sunlight, and she could tell again that it was not because of the weather. It was again cloudy out that afternoon, but somehow, he just radiated sunshine. That became her secret, unspoken word for him.
He wasn't in flyer's jodhpurs but, like her, in bluejeans, and he didn't wear glossy high boots but worn cowboy boots. He was a casual kind of guy in a flannel shirt, and she liked him better dressed that way.
Paul's boyish smile crossed his handsome face again as he explained his change of clothes.
"Olafson prefers his pilots to look the part, but balloon pants are a little too fancy for me."
She thought he looked wonderful; even nicer more casual in just jeans, though he again wore the short leather jacket. She wore a heavier sweater this time, against the cooler air in the sky when they would be flying.
Before he took her up in the Piper Cub a second time, Paul spent a patient hour with her, showing her the cockpit instruments and explaining how to read and use them. Then they put on their leather cap and goggles, strapped on their parachute, and he took her up for another flying lesson.
"She's a fun plane to fly," Paul told Barbara when they were aloft again. "But you'll be surprised how heavy the controls are. It's because the Cub has a high degree of lateral stability. She just doesn't like being rolled."
Then I won't roll her, Barbara thought, not knowing what that meant. Did it have something to do with rolling in the hay? She laughed, but did not ask. Now, why did I think of that? "The engine is heavy, too. This one's more reliable than the first one that was put in a Cub. Piper himself said it was so bad, pilots always had to travel double. One was in an automobile, following along on the ground to bring the flyer home."
I wouldn't mind flying home, riding home in a car, or just walking home, with you. All the hour they flew that day, Barbara's mind kept wandering. It moved from the flying lessons she was being given to wondering if her instructor would ask her for a date. If he didn't, she was almost prepared to ask him for one.