I was out for a drive in the countryside this afternoon, and stumbled upon a scene that was at first surprising, then a little sad. I was about 50 miles/80 km east of Vancouver, out in the Fraser Valley, driving past the small Abbotsford Airport, where I came upon 3 blue and white DC10s, all in a row. They were obviously CP's equipment -- the first was one of the "signature" aircraft, but all had the Canadi>n markings removed. I presume they were there for storage, until they are disposed of.

Made me think of all the times I'd ridden on a CP DC10, my favourte plane, in my favourite seat, 1E or 1F. I also thought about all the places I went, where the journey included a ride on a DC10. It was quite remarkable. All over North America, Europe, Asia, even India and the Middle East.

I then began to think about all the people each of those planes had carried, the places they went, the things they did, the effect on their lives. I imagined people going to meet newborn relatives for the first time and say goodbye to recently passed friends for the last time, going to work or school in a new city or country, going on a honeymoon, or going on vacation and meeting new people, maybe even a future spouse. And all those transient friendships that last the length of the flight, but somehow are never forgotten. The excitement of a first time flyer, the nervousness of a regular but white knuckle flyer, the boredom of the frequent flyer who's spent too much of a lifetime in airports and airplanes.

And the stuff it carried. Souveniers from Hawaii, human transplant organs to Toronto, mail to Vancouver, a replacement part on its way to Halifax. The imitation food in coach, the gourmet meals in business, the suitcases that would never fit in the baggage sizers but somehow always seemed to get on as the FA looked the other way.

And the crew. The first time First Officer, comforted by the knowing tone of the Captain's voice, the FA having a bad hair day, the Customer Service Director that could move mountains to solve the simplest of problems. The mechanic who cussed the plane when he couldn't get that bolt loose, and the cleaning team that was so proud of a refreshed airplane that they turned around in record time.

What a remarkable story those planes could tell, if only the could.

So long DC10s. Thanks for the ride.