Owosso Community Airport

In my small town we are fortunate to have a public airport.  This is a rural area and so when you drive about it's not too infrequent that you might see a wind sock and a clear strip of grass in a bean field.  But we have a nice airport with a paved runway, terminal building, a gas pump (no Jet A), a popular little cafe open only on the weekends, and a collection of hangars and taxiways befitting a Monopoly board.

I've always liked things that go and that includes airplanes.  But, until just the past few years, I've never had much appreciation for small planes and small airports  Waiting to board a nice big jet while sitting in a lounge at LAX was my idea of good times at the airport.

My wife grew up with an airplane and a grass strip in her backyard.  Her family has more pilots than Catholics have kids.  She's a pilot.  And her dad.  And her aunt.  And uncle. And.....you get the picture.  It is through her that I started to hang out at the Owosso Community Airport with its coming and going of small planes.  If someone shows up here with a twin engine Cessna people take notice.  That may not mean much if you don't know planes but, trust me on this, it means something if you do.

What I've discovered is this:  Pilots and the people that hang around small airports tend to be a super-nice bunch.  They like people that like small airports and small planes, the sound of of airplanes flying over head, the smell of av-gas, talking about airplanes, and, especially, little kids that like airplanes.

It's Saturday morning and I'm in town for the weekend.  That means we'll be heading over to the airport soon to the Crosswinds Cafe for breakfast.  And when we're done eating we'll head outside and do something else you can do at this small town airport: sit and watch the airplanes while Evan rides his bike. It's taken close to 20 years buts it's another reason I've come to enjoy living smack dab in the middle of Michigan