the f ly-in needed a little aerial
inspection. He donned his time-
worn f lying jacket and leather hel-
met and climbed into the Tiger
Moth’s cockpit with considerable
spryness that belied eight active
decades of life. A volunteer threw
the prop over until the Gipsy III
engine coughed to life. Every head
turned in unison as the little yel-
low biplane growled down the grass
strip, clawed its way over the Piave
and climbed out against a backdrop
of Alpine foothills glowing in the
late-afternoon sun. It was the very
picture of perfection, and Giancarlo
must have thought so too because
his parking-lane inspection turned
into a bit of an impromptu airshow.
The day’s f lying over, all retired
to the clubhouse for some bilingual
hangar f lying over a few glasses of
local prosecco. From my early days
flight instructing many interna-
tional students to my current layover
walkabouts, I have found pilots the
world over to be kindred spirits, and
it warms my heart to spend time
with aviators of any nationality or
language. Federico and I bade good-
bye to all and drove back to his home-
town of Treviso, where we picked up
his wife Alessandra and headed to
the old walled city for a late dinner.
Noshing on pesto gnocchi, sipping
an Aperol spritz and listening to the
babble of the locals intertwine with
the burble of a fast-f lowing canal,
the fatigue of a transatlantic cross-
ing with little sleep started to catch
up to me. It was a good price to pay
for an interesting visit to a fantastic
slice of Italian-aviation history that
I never would have known about if
not for an Italian airline pilot reach-
ing out across the Atlantic. Thank
you, Federico. And a sincere grazie
to Giancarlo, Daniele and all others
who bring the Jonathan Collection
to life.The Fokker Dr.1’s cockpit makes a snug
fit for would-be Red Baron fantasists.