A letter to Chip.

In theory, tomorrow I will be flying with Mark to the Twin Cities in my dad’s airplane (fondly named Chip). At least, I think Chip is still an airplane; it’s hard to say. She hasn’t wanted to leave the ground for quite sometime, evidently fond of the maintenance staff and her hangar queen status.

Because I have foolishly allowed myself to get my hopes up for the possible fun to be had at his parent’s house and at Valley Fair (roller coasters!) on Saturday, I decided I did not want to risk another attempt at flying tomorrow for the grand weekend if Chip mistakenly thought we were only out for another stroll down taxiway Charlie.

So I write the inanimate (and that word has never been more accurately used in describing something as it is with Chip) object a few letters. You can choose which one you like.

Dear Chip,

You’d better not s**t on the taxiway again or I will take a sledgehammer to your prop.

Sincerely,
Julie

Or…

Dear Chip,

Your natural habitat is the sky. Your natural habit seems to be refusing to go there. Why? Please reconsider your bad attitude and get your ass off the ground or I will take a sledgehammer to your prop.

Sincerely,
Julie

Or…

Dear Chip,

We want to go flying on Friday. We plan to be there in the morning, departing by 10 a.m. We plan on making our destination, and coming on back the same method whence we left, on Sunday.

I don’t know what your plans are, but if they aren’t the same I’m going to take a sledgehammer to your prop.

Sincerely,
Julie

Or…

Dear Chip,

Fly or die. (Die is defined as me taking a sledgehammer to your prop.)

Sincerely,
Julie

Those are just a few of my sentiments.