The Air Museum(kevin zhang) The car doors slammed shut, as the quad wheeled overloaded automobile diverted on to the road. Sitting and staring out the window of the Acura MDX, I was having an amalgamated feeling for this camping trip. The tedious and dizzying times in the car were infuriating and exceedingly uncomfortable. However, the hours spent at the beach playing in the ice cold water and sitting in a circular like shape similarly relevant to an amphitheater only to be staring at a fire, roasting marshmallows and sharing moments verbally was fun and a sufficient reward for the infamous car ride, ergo the mixed reactions. Also, my friend, Alec, would be coming as well.

Outside, the foliage began replacing the large buildings and plazas as our vehicle forged onward.

As soon as the car’s engine stopped, my eyes sprung open and found myself at evergreen air museum. The car was parked in an area that was encircled by three separate buildings. I was bewildered why we were here when I remembered a component of yesterday’s conversation. My dad had promised that this air museum would be a part of our trip because of my constant begging and pleading. I instantaneously ran to the door of the aircraft showcase, in which I was greeted by a blast of cold air, and dozens of aircraft.

The museum was surrounded exteriorly by retired military fighters, out of which I could name every single one. Since one of my favorite subjects is aircraft, I did lots of research on airplanes when I was a kid. I was also equally astonished with interior aircraft, as I walked from one exhibit to another.

A gleaming silver b-17 stood in front of me as my mouth dropped to the ground. Armed with 13 oversized Browing M2 .50 machine guns, the exceedingly intimidating bomber resurrected from WW2 made me want to forget security and bust inside the aircraft, but my own humane sense stopped the temptation immediately. Having studied the airplane, I knew all the components were completely necessary. Firstly, the .50 m2 machine gun was a revolutionary design in which firing a .50 bullet that was three times larger than a standard machine gun bullet with a range of 4 miles. This makes a great method of defense and gives the b-17 its nickname, the flying fortress. Also, the b-17 has 4 propellers, so if even two of these ancient engines got shot down, it could still fly. In addition to that, a large bomb bay allows for a greater payload and greater damage to the targeted area. Finally, the cockpit houses four men, so teamwork can play a role on this flying machine making it have greater effectiveness. Eventually, I forced myself to peal my eyes off the world renowned plane as I continuously wished I could enter into this wonderful combination of metals and could see what only pictures could represent.

Later that evening we had arrived at the camping grounds and were about to take a rest after a long day. I took some time to reminisce about what happened. However, the time I saw the b-17 stuck out like a splash of black on a white sheet of paper, still wishing that I could see that old plane’s internal secrets.

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