Flying Inside a Lightning Cloud
In a 4-seat Beechcraft
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Pilot Waldo Anderson was a cherub of a man with thin red hair.
On weekends during the summer, he flew my folks from the Twin Cities to the grass municipal airport near our lake cabin up north. Occasionally, seats became available for us kids.
It was a 4-hour drive which took under an hour in Waldo’s Beechcraft plane. My father needed to get away from his high-pressure job. The serenity of a lake in the north woods was all it took.
On a flight home one Sunday, a thunderstorm blew in out of nowhere. We were getting bounced around so much; the plane felt like a ball in a pinball machine. The rain pounded the windows and the air gusts felt like giant fists pounding the plane’s hull.
Waldo decided there was too much turbulence and told my dad, “Mr. Moos, we have to go up and inside the cloud. Hang on.”
That’s the afternoon I saw courage in action.
I sat in back with the luggage, but still wore my seat belt with the shoulder harness. My brother Grant turned in his seat to tell me, “This is serious.” I watched him grab the cabin handhold next to his seat and copied him.
