”I gingerly allow us to ease forward from the apron onto the runway, push the right pedal hard and toe in a little brake. The nose swings, just like...all the other airplanes I’ve flown. Once straight on the runway, I let off the brakes and let the idling engine pull us along at a fast walk. When I reach the end of the runway, we have a wide are for planes to turn around. I use it, this time pivoting to the left, then back up the runway.“Put ‘er on the apron,” Wally hollers.I obey. I carry some. All kinds, white, black, brown, circumcised or not. Lately I noticed a penchant for black guys with a minimum of 9-inch, 10-inch cocks, and bigger if she could find them. Well, a deal is a deal. Joel glanced at me in surprise, not expecting to see me. He began to pull back but I raised a finger to my mouth and made a shushing motion, indicating that he should remain silent. He must have recognised me as a friendly face from the bar because, visibly relieved, he looked back down at my wife. ‘That’s not a bad day for it, it usually pishes down or blows a gale when I go to funerals’. I cringe at my crude turn of phrase, not exactly romantic, or fitting to the pious environment. ‘Aye, or both! I’ve lost more brollys in graveyards than I can count. Were you at Joe Rafferty’s funeral last year? The wind nearly blew the priest into the grave after Joe, he almost lost his wig! Think it was a wig, if it wasn’t it should have been, it had no business being called hair, I swear, it was like. She did the latter hitting the ground hard and rolling a few feet. I jumped up and ran to the fallen cyclist and was relieved when she sat up and screamed 'Bastard!' at the disappearing car driver. Whether he'd every even seen her was doubtful as he carried on as if nothing had happened.'You're all right then?' I asked holding my hand out.'Yes I'm fine I think,' she replied as she took my offered hand and used it to held her stand up.I gave her a long look over, partially to check for any.