On a lazy summer day, warm and dry, I was pursuing nothing in particular and experiencing predictable success. I wonder sometimes who was first to use the phrase “lazy days of summer” and when we began to forget their true value.

The sun was well overhead and I had acquired the necessary ingredients for one of my favorite lunches; two microwaved burritos, a bottle of grapefruit juice, and a dark chocolate candy bar. I had settled the beast into a shady spot at a local park and sat against her high side with the elements of my repast spread about me; the second burrito on the right bag, the bottle of juice against the bars, and the chocolate safely tucked away out of the sun. I was quite sure there was no better way to pass an afternoon.

High overhead I could hear a variable pitch propeller change tones as the pilot pulled his craft into a climb threading his way between the vaporous mountains of the summer sky. Closing my eyes for just a moment I could see clearly below me a smattering of fluffy white islands floating on the Pacific heavens, and beyond them the green blue ocean seemed to gently cradle an insignificant string of small atolls.

Three sharp thumps to the fuselage behind me broke into my reverie and I snapped the craft quickly to the right straining to get a sight of the assailant. A brief but intense wave of panic and regret rolled through me as I considered that this was definitely the wrong place and time for me to be out here alone. I caught a glimpse of the attacker above me, behind and slightly to the right. Below me a comforting veil of white cushion beckoned and I pulled the craft more tightly into its roll pushing it into a dive for the cloud. I had only seen one, but was certain that there were not two of us alone up here today and all the way through the fog I concerned myself with where the wingman would be and how I would deal with both of them.

I cleared the base of the cloud, tensed every muscle I could find and pulled the aircraft harshly out of the dive glancing uneasily past my feet into the dark cavern of the fuselage that seemed ready to swallow me at the slightest slip. It seemed a long, long time as I willed the winged platform as best I could into level flight avoiding the inevitable climb and waited for the bandits to appear. I alternated glancing across the gauges and scouring the sky above and behind me. It seemed I didn’t breathe for half a lifetime before the first zeke popped out beyond my nose, slightly below and traveling at a much higher rate of speed than mine. I held back. As the second bandit appeared behind the first I dropped the nose slightly, squeezed off three short bursts, and was rewarded by a thick black plume springing from the trailing aircraft.

The wounded bird rolled lazily to the left and I banked right to get past him. I had no interest in confirming the kill as my mind was now thoroughly occupied with the task of survival. I focused on the lead craft now further away than I wished him to be and concentrated all my powers on matching him move for move. He rolled first right and then left avoiding the sharp turn that would allow me to close the gap between us while testing my determination and ability to follow his maneuvers He was very good and I was very desperate. I had no intention of allowing this one to get away and find himself again on my tail. The gap was closing slowly. I watched carefully as he rolled one way and then the other. It seemed to me that he moved more easily to the left. My hands were sweaty and my heartbeat was noticeably accelerated. As I pulled within acceptable gun range of my target I anticipated that he would break to one side and I knew I would be unable to stay with him through a tight turn. My best chance was to bank just before he made his break catching him as he rolled. I set the deck by positioning my bird slightly to his right.

I held my breath and rolled the dice. Within machine gun range now, I released a short burst to let him know I had arrived then standing on the rudder I banked left and the zeke came with me. I held the trigger open and raked the bandit from nose to tail, screaming with relief as the erstwhile threat nosed down and spun toward the ocean below. This one I followed in.

As my target splashed into the sea I pulled the nose of the craft skyward, once more alone in a tranquil midday sky. The radio crackled and a voice in my right ear greeted me with, “Must be a nice day to be riding one of those.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is.”

The young man paused on his way, eying the Dragon with obvious envy. A large shaggy dog pulled impatiently on the leash.

“Beautiful bike. Enjoy your day. Be safe.”

“Yeah, thanks. You too.”

I finished off the last of the chocolate bar, stuffed the paper wrapping into the grapefruit juice bottle, and swung my leg over the Dragon.

Summer days, the Dragon, and nowhere special to be. I guess it really just doesn’t get any better than this.