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In the 80's, I lived near London, Ontario and we had one of the best airshow in North America at the time. The day before the show, planes usually do a practice run and I was out working in the fields when one flew over me at about 1000 ft. Badass is not the work...I was shitin' myself the thing was so huge and loud.
The Vulcan came around again and I was waving frantically at it and it went right over me and tipped its wings in acknowledgement. It was pretty cool thing for a 15 year old farm boy. I'll never forget it.
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Life's jounney is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn-out shouting, "Holy sh*t! What a ride!" - unknown 
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