Though I have never gone, I used to day dream about soaring through the air – hang gliding. Bungee jumping, nah. Skydiving, no thanks. But hang gliding? Sign me up.
I contemplated adding a hang glider to my Christmas list one year, until my mom squashed the idea by explaining that, “Hang gliders are very expensive.” Translation: “No chance of you getting one from Santa.”
Since the days when I asked Santa for presents, I lost some of the desire to hang glide, perhaps because I have matured or perhaps because I am older and wimpier. But I still catch myself momentarily day dreaming about trying it.
If you’ve ever driven on Route 4 in Vermont between Castleton and Rutland, which I’ve done more times than I could count, you may have noticed hang gliders circling above. They launch from West Rutland, soar above the highway and most of the time land in a field on the other side.
This past Sunday, I noticed two high above and started thinking about my childhood quest to hang glide. I was driving, so it probably was not the greatest idea to watch them, but they mesmerized me just as a soaring eagle does.
I was quickly snapped back to reality with a thud. Well, reality came before the thud when I was startled by a small bird flying low and across the road. I closed my eyes (yes, still driving), heard the thud, opened my eyes, and saw feathers in my rear view mirror.
Poor little birdie.
Now, whenever I see the hang gliders floating above and start to become mesmerized by them, I will most likely be snapped back to reality by what I am taking as an omen to not go hang gliding.