Something happens to some of us elderly types when the age numbers get to starting with 9s.  We look for affirmative adventures.

At 90 I began with a tandem parachute jump, which is more like a headfirst fall, out of the big door of an old prop airplane.  Whoosh.  Then thunk, when the chute opens, a downward spin, and kind of a hard landing on the air field.  Hooked up to a kid professional jumper who is managing the event. Not much time for sightseeing.  The obligatory photo is awful.  All over, mercifully, in about 15 minutes.  Seemed longer.

Since than a motorcycle trip down the Strand and a few similar stunts for the annual event, until this week, at 95, a 40-minute tandem paragliding soaring flight off of the Torrey Pines cliffs.  Amazing!  Comfortably seated! Leisurely! The mature pilot somehow has classical music playing.  The sightseeing tour along the edge of San Diego County is glorious.  The landing on green grass is gentle.  And the pictures are great.

Recommended to one and all.  I think I’ll just keep doing that.

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