Mohawk Airlines, According to Girl

Mohawk Airlines according to Girl: This afternoon, Mike and I jumped into the Camaro and were heading north on US-131, when up in the sky above us we saw a small plane pulling a glider. They looked like two birds in synchronized flying formation. Mike’s statement was, "I wonder how they heat those things?"

We had just spent an hour winterizing our outdoor stuff, the pool, the gazebo, the cat house (a little building Mike had made to protect a feral mother cat and her babies from the elements), the lights around the creek, and our grandchildren’s tricycles. It is cold—must be below freezing because the snow is not melting, and every time we open the slider, the cats want to come inside.

In 1969, Mohawk Airlines provided a service between Newark and Detroit for twenty-five dollars round trip. The planes were not much bigger or certainly not more impressive than that glider. It must have been an act of pure love to even board the tiny little, accident prone BAC-1-11. Mohawk had four accidents that caused fatalities. It cost more to get to Newark by bus than to get to Detroit by air. I always met him, driving up to Metro Detroit in the little yellow Mustang. Mike would tell me the time and place, and I would be there. Then, he would get behind the wheel and take us back to Grand Rapids. Mike always stayed with his brother in Jenison. He would use his sister-in-law’s car, and we would manage a quick date or two before his flight back on a Sunday night.

The memory of those flights and the warm feeling I have of those weekends is most likely why I still love to fly. Even though today there are the Nazi’s stationed at the entrance to the terminals that might try to steal my joy, I still love flying (I just give them my illegal weapons, such as the little pen knife on my key chain or the lip gloss I forgot to stash inside a tiny plastic bag).

It seems security screening will always beep on me. Last time I flew, it was my two cell phones and one pager. The time before that, I forgot to pull out the laptop and put it in the separate container. The metal detectors do not like hoop earrings, or bangle bracelets. Still, the hassle doesn’t get me down. I can always be found with a smile on my face, as I find my seat (typically next to a window).

After the thrust of the takeoff, I will close my eyes and remember the
days Mohawk brought us together. Life was so very simple, back then—before children, cats, toys and stuff. Mike and I were kids just wanting to play. We were happy there was a Mohawk to provide us with those crazy hours together.