Yesterday, I was busy catching up on things at home after being gone almost a week on business travel. My partner is away visiting his mother, so I was tempted on such a sunny, beautiful day, to get out on my Harley and ride. Alas, my aunt required some attention, another elderly couple needed a cabinet repaired, and my usual Saturday routine of grocery shopping with the ladies wasn’t to be missed.
I got home about noon, and thought that the rest of the day would be spent working on our hallway renovation project. I promised my partner I would do that. So I got out all of the tools and materials, and began the job. Then the phone rang.
A buddy was calling saying that he was in a real spot. I had sold him my old parachute and he was getting it ready to go skydiving with some mutual friends, but something wasn’t right with my old ‘chute. He had worked himself up into a dither. He so desperately wanted to go skydiving, but if something were wrong with the ‘chute, then he would not be able to go. He sounded so disappointed and frustrated.
“You know that ‘chute better than anyone. Can you fix it?”
I still wasn’t sure quite what was wrong, but he sounded so desperate, I just had to go help. I decided to bring him my own parachute, so that if I weren’t able to get his ‘chute fixed, he could still go skydiving. I hopped on my Harley (a-ha! what an excuse to ride!) and boogeyed over to the airport. There was my friend. He had the parachute all laid out on the grass.
He jumped up and ran over to me. “I can’t pack it! It won’t pack!” he shrieked. This guy is a nice man, but he does get a tad excitable. Turns out that he had it all backwards. Some of the ‘chute lines were tangled. We straightened them out and ensured each was free, and began to fold it. What I liked most about my old ‘chute is that it practically folded itself. I wrapped the static line loosely along the top of the pack, then closed it with the pin, and voi-la, it was all ready. Nothing was wrong with it; my buddy simply had forgotten how to pack it. (Can’t say that spending eight hours of training on the matter helped him that much, but that’s quite another story.)
The rest of the guys showed up, and the pilot said those magic words, “hey, we’ve got an open spot, wanna come?”
Well, I do have all that work to do back home…
I couldn’t resist. Hmmm, for some reason, I was already dressed in BDUs and jump boots. But honestly, that’s what I put on to do work on the floor! Really! God’s truth! (My partner would never believe me, because I usually wear old cruddy jeans and my Station Boots to do renovation work.)
We jumped three times yesterday afternoon. We didn’t go very high — just about 8,000 feet for each jump. High enough to see the surrounding area, but not so high as to spend all afternoon in freefall (LOL).
Today, I promise: I will work on that hallway project which must show significant progress before my partner arrives home about 2:00. (And either call me honest or a glutton for punishment, but I plan to tell my partner about the Saturday diversion, even if he won’t be happy).
Life is short: have fun!