I celebrated my 56th birthday doing something I always wanted to do
	As some of old guys know, I do things. The third of July I turned fifty seven. Not older'n water. But I am old enough to remember when we had dirt and we had water and no one even thought about mixing them and having mud. So I decided to celebrate my day in the fun with a solo parachute jump. The third we did classes. And we got blown off because for newbies the wind has to be below fourteen mph's. The fourth we had storms so we blew it off again. The tenth it was perfect. Well, not really. You see you need a head wind to work with while under canopy (one class and I can talk the talk!) But we got to jump. Here I am in full dress newbie maiden jump attire with my youngest grandson.
	What I don't have pictures of is flying the canopy. When the chute opened all the stuff in the class instantly came back. I looked up, I had shape (looked like an open parachute). I had stability (it all felt stable). And I had steerability, I could make that puppy do figure eights and circles to my heart's content. And as instructed, I guided myself to the holding area and then flew my landing pattern just like we'd discussed. The landing was gentle even though my backside hit a little sooner than was proper for a man my age. But I did land feet first and I waved I was okay as instructed. Will I do it again? Probably. Yeah, I know about the list. And yeah, skydiving has been checked off that list. But next time it won't be because I would, but because I could.
	Then it was chute open time!
	This is a solo jump, not a tandem. I can understand him or her having a problem. And I can understand me having a problem. But I have a real time with their problem being my problem. So I insisted I go solo. And to be serious, I wasn't. Just a character flaw, one of few. I look at it this way. I'm not at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to the smart department. And they have to have this procedure down to the point that those at the bottom of the smart barrel won't hurt themselves doing this solo jump thing. So it's kinda sorta like riding a roller coaster. It's all about the feeling of risk without in actuality taking one. After all they have a viable business of letting you jump out of a perfectly good airplane with only six hours or so of class. If anyone really got hurt they wouldn't have a business. So I figure they've got it idiot proof. I'm safe in spite of myself. We flew a plane load up to thirteen thousand five hundred feet. Someone yelled the green light was on and someone else opened the door. My first response was a perfectly natural one. It was a feeling of well being. The air conditioning worked at that height. Here I was sweating like a fat lady staring at the scales and when that door came open it was like walking into a freezer. Wonderful. First out was a couple of four ways (not junkman's fanatasy kind) and then some other combos. Then it was just me, the pilot, the cameraman, and my two jump masters. The pilot chickened out at the last minute and stayed with the plane. The way they get away with allowing you to jump alone the first time is you have two people who have a death grip (yours) on you when you go out into space. Those colorful stripes along the side of my suit are handholds. It is an unbelievable feeling when you're out free falling. I thought it would tough getting into an arch'd position. It wasn't. My problem was I hadn't paid attention in class. So I did what felt right and not what was right. This meant I had a lot more fun than my jump masters did. Check out the look on my face versus the looks on theirs.
	Before I do it again I will trim my beard. At a hundred and twenty mph's it wants to go with the flow.
	As you can tell it doesn't take long falling like a rock to see dirt plain as day.