So, today we took Grandpa and Tyler to the airport and, with my heart pounding in my chest, sent them off for their glider ride. Both were excited as they hopped on the golf cart that followed the plane and the glider onto the tarmac. It was thumbs up when it was time for take-off. Here is the proof that they really did it and didn't even die (which I worried about a couple of times, since I am Eleanor Lewis's daughter:)
Can you see the outline of the "Indian Princess" lying atop Mt. Timpanogos? It is when I look at pictures like these and I think, "Wow. I live here."
and then came the recovery.
I guess the ride was pretty bumpy with the storm rolling in. I should have put two and two together and realized that a kid who gets carsick in Provo Canyon might get a little motion sick in a glider that can catch an upswing and climb hundreds of feet in seconds. He never lost it, but
you might be able to catch the green tint in his cheeks (or the lack of color altogether). After the ride, Tyler said, "I'm so sick. That was awesome, but I'm never doing it again."
Grandpa said, "It was okay, but pretty blah actually. I'd rather go skydiving again."
So, for one it was too much. For the other it was not quite enough.
Happy Birthday anyway, Grandpa!
And Tyler, don't give up on flying yet!
At least they can say they have gone soaring in a glider.
Hey, Isaac said he will do it in a few years.
Hmmm. But who will we get to go with him:)?