One time flying back from Lopez to Paine Field in Everett, the fog got really, really thick. It was Dad, Carol, & I in the plane (that I remember!), and as we got into the Everett area, Dad was flying really low and really slow and said to us "Keep your eyes peeled for wires, poles, and bridges so we don't hit anything. We'll see if we can make our way to the airport." YIKES, what? Well, after just a few minutes of that he gave up and headed north, where the air was clear and we landed at Arlington airport instead of Paine Field where we had rented the plane. I also remember that when we flew places in our plane during my childhood years, dad would pack that plane to the gills & more to get in everything we "needed" to take on the trip. I remember hearing the adults say that it was overloaded, but that didn't stop Dad. One time during a scenic flight in the puget sound area, I was in the front (which was unusual) and asked him why, and what was he always looking around at (constantly moving his eyes and head to & fro). He told me he was always looking for the emergency landing place, because one never knows if it will be needed. My Dad was an EXCELLENT pilot in my opinion. He always got us where we were going, and we always arrived safely. The last flight I got to take with Dad was out of Anchorage. Again, in the backseat . . . maybe in 2008(?). I hadn't been up in a small plane for quite sometime, and as Dad revved up the engine and then "let her go" for takeoff, it actually made me cry. It brought such a sweet emotion to be in the familiar place of takeoff with my Dad in the pilots seat. Oh, God is good, and I am thankful for the father He gave me.