It has been said about many things that the journey is more
important than the destination, and that was definitely the case for our
drive to the Brodhead Airport. By the time we reached the airfield, the
Fly-In had become a flown-out, and the only plane left was one grounded
by engine trouble. But what a drive we had to get there! The sky was
filled with row after row of cirrus clouds, the county two-lanes were
empty and inviting (the only traffic we encountered was a '50s Chevy
club coming the other way), and the corn was as high as an elephant's
eye. Six 356s, a 912 and a 911 purred across 80-some miles of Illinois
and Wisconsin back roads to Brodhead. But we weren't done yet. Someone
suggested we grab a bite to eat at a nearby restaurant, so we caravaned
west to Monroe, and south across the Illinois line to Freeport, and west
on US 20 to Lena, IL, where we stopped for lunch at the Rafters.
The Gang of Eight sets off.