I was the man with the plan, I thought as I watched the hilly Pennsylvania countryside slide along under the airplane. Call it the story of three men and a checkbook, if you wish. We had gone to an auction and been naughty, but I was sure I could wiggle out of trouble.

This wasn't just any auction, this was an airplane auction. It wasn't an auction on the other side of town, it was 100 miles away. It was an absolutely sparkling fall day, a frosty morning with lots of valley fog that turned out calm, sunny, and warm. I think it must be acknowledged that there were powerful forces, beyond our control, which contributed to our misbehavior.

Our excitement built as we arrived overhead the airport. It was obvious that there was quite a volume of things to be had. From two miles away, it was easy to see four gliders and several airplanes laid out in the grass. The fuselages, wings, and tails all laid together just like the exploded assembly drawings for plastic models. Everything was there but the dotted lines.

Bidding started on a severely disfigured Citabria which sold for $125, with an equally disfigured engine. Mismatched wings for it were available for $2500. A fellow bought three Stinson fuselages and a pair of well worn wings and tail feathers for $150. A Cessna 150, completely disassembled and stripped of paint sold for $2800, with no engine. There were others too. All these projects were a long way from being airplanes again, but there was a lot of work that was already done on them. Some flyable airplanes were also available as well.

The auctioneer was getting perilously close to the end of the line. Buyer after buyer had bid into good deals, and we knew it. We were starting to realize that it would be a miserable trip home, with nothing to talk about but how well other people had done at the auction. It was too nice a day to stand on the sidelines of life, and the bidding was getting slow on a pretty red and white 1946 Commonwealth.

I don't know who broke first, but all three of us elbowed each other in the ribs. I was holding the card, and I waved it. It wasn't long before the auctioneer and his crowd had moved on and the three of us were standing alone in front of our new airplane. Much like three old dogs that had finally chased down a passing car, we looked at each other and said "now what?"

I offered to take the blame, certain that I could once again outflank my wife. The plane has nice paint and proportions that flow pleasantly. It is photogenic and it was a pretty day at a country airport. Baby pictures were the key to my plan, and I composed a number of pictures of the plane.

It worked like a charm. I stopped at the one- hour photo store and arrived home with pictures of my day at the auction. It started out with our departure in the fog, several pictures of the fog laying among the autumn hilltops below, and then pictures of all the auction items. She remarked about the pretty red plane when the very first of the many "baby pictures" came up.

"Yessss. The man with the plan" I said to myself, after I had sprung the trap. Later, as I silently savored my victory, she muted the TV and announced that this fall would be a good time to re-do the living room. She said that she had a plan that would be an excellent value, and good looking besides.....

Late October 1997