"Use the wings of the flying Universe ..."-Dejan Stojanovic
Every time late August rolls around I remember the Hinkleys and their plane. I was a student in L. A at the time. They lived across the street from the summer home I lived in with a few other starving students.Mr. Hinkley was about a hundred, I figured. Mrs. Hinkley less. She wore her hair up in a beehive , with long dangly earrings, high heels and sparkly jump suits. It was the 80's after all. She was a painter. She painted dogs. All sorts of dogs. Some wearing outfits, some dressed like clowns.Once in a while she drew birds. Birds with little hats on their heads. Their house was filled with dog and bird paintings. On the walls, standing against walls, in the garage, in closets. She never seemed to sell any. Just kept making them. Mr. Hinkley was very proud of his wife's efforts.She liked to gamble at casinos. The ones in Vegas. She had a few favourite haunts.Mr. Hinkley liked to tinker with his plane. He didn't like to gamble. He just liked flying his plane. To Vegas. Every other month or so. His wife lived in the casinos. He trailed after her.Every August he would take two students with him . In his plane. Not a float plane like in the photo at the top........just a small plane with yellow wings. Same colour as a bee.Mrs. Hinkle hated flying. Wouldn't get in the plane. She drove with a bunch of her friends, equally bedazzled in sequins and rhinestones. Kind of like Thelma and Louise. Only without the crime element.They cackled all the way, talking all at once.One year, my friend Ginny and I were offered a place in the plane. I hate flying. I really hate flying. But I went anyways........Mr. Hinkle got his plane going all right. Just a few bumps. Did I mention it was a small plane? A very small plane. He wandered up and down and up and down in the air. He pointed out mountains, rivers, valleys, bears he thought he saw. He liked to look for non existent bears....And the plane went up and down and up and down.Ginny laughed the entire way. And Mr. Hinkle pointed out roads below. I wished I was on one of them. 282 miles to Vegas. Just over an hour in the plane. That very small plane that looked like a bee.Up and down and up and down. Mr. Hinkle had this bad habit of flying lower to see if he saw any wildlife. Then he'd zoom upwards. Ginny kept laughing. I was holding onto the seat in front of me so tight, that I dug scratches into the vinyl.After an hour of wandering in the air, we made it to Vegas. The plane bumped down on the ground like a watermelon. Oh how I loved being on the ground.....Vegas was hot. Vegas was busy. Vegas had lots of cars. Lots of people. Mr. Hinkle took us to his wife's favourite casino. She would be there, he said. He shuffled along with his cane. I didn't think he ever used a cane. Said he could get the seniors' discount at the buffet if he showed up with a cane. Mr. Hinkle bought us lunch. Ham and eggs and watermelon and whatever else you wanted.Then we went looking for Mrs. Hinkle. Look for the beehive, he said.You couldn't miss her. Sitting at a slots machine, her four friends all around her. All of them pulling at the machines like they were bell ringers. All of them shrieking when they thought they had won.Mrs. Hinkle was smoking. I'd never seen her smoke. "Only smokes here," said Mr. Hinkle. "Brings her luck." And lucky she was. She pulled in thousands with the slots, right before my eyes. I figured she had a system. She only used the same slot machine. Said if someone was on it she would boot them off. It was HER slot machine. She blew smoke over the machine, willing it to win.So here she was shrieking, smoking, winning, having a wail of a time. Mr. Hinkle just stood back and grinned. We were there about half an hour. "You leaving?" said his wife. Mr. Hinkle waved and left. With us in tow. We went back to the plane. We had spent an hour in Las Vegas. He only went to see her win. Gave him great joy to watch her gamble. And the plane went up and down and up and down over Lake Mead. Ginny continued to laugh the entire time. Mr. Hinkle thought we would like to fly over the Hoover dam.........."Concrete arch gravity dam. Built in 1931..." said Mr. Hinkle as his plane wobbled and wandered over the water. I should say that I felt like wobbling and wandering at this point...Up and down, this way and that a way, all the way back to Los Angeles. Mr. Hinkle was pleased as punch. He only flew his plane to go see his wife enjoy herself. Especially when she won. I still think she had a system...... and I hope wherever he is he is still flying to this day......Photographs 2021
Campbell River, B.C.