The sun, still bleary eyed from his slumber, yawns, and stretches, and casts the first light across dew covered yellow wings; cotton bolls, soybean pods and rice tassels sway in the gentle morning breeze. Stepping into the seat, I scan the controls and flip the master switch, sending 28 volts to the ships nervous system. Starter and igniter engaged, the turbine engine comes to life; the fire of combustion rushes across the turbine blades, spinning up to unheard of speeds. Started and stabilized, the engine exhales a continuous hot breath, ready to work.

Yes, I know it's a little over the top on the prose, but I am enamored with my job. I am an Ag pilot. The thrill of speed and the exhilaration of "pulling g's" keep me coming back. Now, after thirty years it is starting to hurt and the once supple joints are beginning to protest, but the desire and drive to make the next pass, to make the next steep turn, push me on. Though not as glamorous as some jobs, it is certainly more fun than most.

Learn more about this author, David Trotter.
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