I originally wrote The Return of the Golden Age of Air Travel in April of this year and published it on May 1st. It was a visceral response to the early days of COVID-19. As the summer wore on, I felt that maybe the piece was a reflection of a relatively short period which was, for the most part, behind us. Sadly, that's turned out not to be the case. Things might already be worse than they have ever been. So I dusted off this stream-of-conciousness jumble of reminiscenses of travel gone by mixed with an argument that the nature of travel in the future is forever changed. Furthermore, future travel might well more closely resemble travel of the past. I hope you enjoy the essay and that it gives you pause to think about your own relationship with travel. Thank you so much for listening.

Listen to the essay with the play button, above. The text can be found on Medium where it was published on May 1st, 2020. They key image for this episode shows passengers on a Trans-Canada Airlines DC-8 have pre-dinner drinks in the lounge. (image/caption: AirlineRatings.com)

Links:

• Transcript: The Return of the Golden Age of Air Travel — The complete text of the episode which was originally published on May 1st, 2020 on Medium.

It’s surprising what connects you to home.

“Why don’t you just go there and see for yourself?” my boss asked me, back in the Spring of 1998. I was working for an international petroleum well service company at the time.

“What…go there?” I asked, first thinking it sounded like an incredible adventure. Then, I was filled almost instantly with an empty, black dread. “Sure, that sounds great,” I said bravely, “I’ll get right on that.” The IT guy isn’t offered that kind of trip very often. The branch office in Orange County to pull network cabling or training courses in Seattle, maybe. Lightweight stuff with predictable food, accommodation and television. Western Siberia to help decode the turbid electronic missives of the company’s staff over there? Nearly never....

Listen to the rest by clicking the play button, above. The text version of this essay can be found on Medium where it was published contemporaneously. (image: Nizhnevartovsk, Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug, Western Siberia in December of 2007. credit: Evgeny Fedorov under CC BY 3.0)

The airship hangars at Tillamook trigger a cascade of memories.

My family first visited the Oregon Coast in the early 1970s. My mother picked Rockaway, seemingly at random, from the motor club guide and we stayed at the Silver Sands, an old-fashioned drive-up motel on the beach. All five of us squeezed into a single suite, the most memorable thing about which was the mysterious Magic Fingers Relaxation Service. This was a box on the night table which if you put in a quarter made the bed vibrate in a way that made absolutely no sense to a 12 year old. “How on earth would you ever get to sleep?” I thought, obviously not yet fully able to understand that sleeping may not have been the point. Back then, it just seemed odd...

Listen to the rest by clicking the play button, above. The text version of this essay can be found on Medium where it was published contemporaneously. (image: "Naval Air Station Tillamook during World War II" credit: Tillamook Air Museum)

While there is still time, take your kids on a long road trip.

Memories are like roadside scenery glimpsed from a car hurtling down the freeway at 78 miles-an-hour. The driver sees the least, preoccupied by the task at hand. The passenger in the front seat sees a little more but not enough given she spends time looking at the driver, searching for signs of distraction or weariness. The passengers in the back have the opportunity to see the most because they are — literally — along for the ride, blissfully out of control and with nothing but time on their hands. The idle backseat passengers can best see what’s really close up, or really far off, and only then like freeze frame glimpses of washed out Kodacolor photos rescued from a dumpster bound shoebox...

Listen to the rest by clicking the play button, above. The text version of this essay can be found on Medium where it was published contemporaneously. (image: "Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park" by Diego Rivera, 1947.)

An ancient idea that is more relevant than ever.

The metaphorical rosetta stone is better known than the real Rosetta Stone. In any explanation of how one critical document deciphers and unlocks the meaning of all others, that document instantly becomes the rosetta stone of particle physics or computer code or kaizen or astronomy or golf. With the irreplaceable information the metaphorical rosetta stone provides, that which we seek to understand is enlightened and flourishes in our imagination. It’s the single match struck in the stygian void. The light it casts instantly defines the dimensions and nature of our new world...

Listen to the rest by clicking the play button, above. The text version of this essay can be found on Medium where it was published concurrently. (photo: ©Hans Hillewaert via Wikimedia under CC BY-SA 4.0)

The simple joy of slope soaring.

We had just about given up on a return to Rocky Knoll. Since our arrival on the Oregon Coast the wind had been blowing steadily from the southwest, which does not favour the slope which is about 10 minutes south of Yachats. But then, we were walking into the Green Salmon and looked up at their little wind turbine and — voilà — the wind had shifted to the northwest. After a short visit for their amazing coffee and baked goods, we packed ourselves and all the gear into the car and headed south. When we arrived, the wind was blowing in a perfect orientation to the cliff...

Listen to the rest by clicking the play button, above. The text version of this essay can be found on Medium where it was originally published on November 11th, 2016. (header photo and cover art by Michelle Klement)

Eliminating the use of fossil fuels depends on kicking our addiction to just tooling around.

The absolute single best day—no, the single best moment—of my entire year is sitting in the parking lot waiting for the Starbucks® to open on the Friday before Labour Day. With a full tank of gas, a smooth open road ahead, decent weather and nothing but free time it simply doesn’t get any better. In a year defined by its constraints it is the instant when I feel...

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