I crack my eyes open in time to see a water tower as it flies by the drizzle-streaked window. Proudly emblazoned on it are the words “Xenia – Bicycle Capital of the Midwest.” Wow, we’re making good time; we’re almost there, I think as I yawn and sit upright in the back seat of the Honda. Middle son Ian is at the helm and eldest son Adam is still dozing in the passenger front seat after his stint at the wheel.
We’re headed to Dayton, Ohio on this September Saturday. Our trip started at 3:00 am when we pulled out of Roanoke with me at the wheel. At dawn, 200 miles behind us, Ian took over, a quick pit stop at a gravel pull-out somewhere northwest of Charleston.
The slap of the wipers keeps tempo as we roll on. We’ve wanted to visit the hometown of the Wright brothers for some time now, and recently prepared to seize the soonest day that we could all wrangle free.
So here we are. We don’t have as much time as we’d prefer, but a micro adventure is better than none at all, and I realized years ago that one should never underestimate what can be done in a day.
Now Adam and I are digging into the provisions which we have on board: cereal, sandwiches, apples. Ian is on the alert for the exit which will take us to our first stop, the US Air Force Museum, and soon we’re parked in the big lot, donning shoes, brushing teeth and patting hair into place. “Let’s go!”
“Yes, there’s a docent-led tour about to begin right over there,” the bright and chirpy woman directs us with a practiced wave of the hand. Big Jim Newport starts his tour, and right away he confirms our suspicions. This place is huge. It covers 17 acres. One could spend days just visiting the Gallery of Early Flight, which is only a small part of the museum.
For two hours Jim parades us through the high points of the Early Flight and War World II galleries, and it’s a fantastic tour. We learned long ago how valuable such volunteer-led tours can be – it’s a labor of love for these people who almost always add countless vignettes and interesting side notes – and this one was no exception.
Following a quick picnic in the gardens adjacent to the museum, we hit the exhibits with renewed enthusiasm. Still ahead are the galleries of the Korean War, the Southeast Asia War, the Cold War, and that of Missiles and Space. It’s daunting in scope but we cheerfully and guidelessly wend our way through the planes and exhibits until we’re finally ushered out the door at closing time.
Ten minutes away from the museum we are still babbling about the fascinating exhibits as we arrive at the Huffman Prairie Flying Field. We’re amazed to find not another soul in attendance. And this is on a lovely Saturday evening. Odd.
A National Historical Site encompassed by Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Huffman Field is the expansive cow pasture in which Orville and Wilbur Wright conducted many flight tests in 1904 and 1905, after their initial success at Kitty Hawk culminating in 1903. Today there is a path and lots of interpretive signs, and even a reproduction of the workshop shed and launching tower which the Wright brothers utilized. Before moving on to visit the Wright Brothers Memorial perched on a hilltop Not far away, we launch our little radio-controlled model plane over this hallowed ground.
“Is this even legal, Dad?” wonders Adam as the little plane circles above us. Hmm … Oh well, soon enough I crash the model and gather up the wreckage. Off we go to the Wright Brothers monument.
Once you’ve gazed at the tremendous and grand memorial to the brothers Wright at Kitty Hawk, well, the one here consisting of a modest column is not so impressive. But it’s a beautiful spot, especially today with the early fall breeze shuffling through the scattering of trees. Adam entertains us by doing flips -“Websters”- off the low stone walls in the park.
“Why’d you come all the way here from Virginia? There ain’t nothin’ ’round here!” our laughing waitress at the Big Boy restaurant exclaims. We assure her that we like her city, and that there is indeed a lot to see. “If you say so!” she grins again as she unloads plates of onion rings stacked on her arm.
It’s Sunday morning and downtown Dayton is deserted. We leisurely stroll (yeah right, says my wife; you guys never ‘stroll’) the urban banks of the Miami River. Then we get briefly lost locating the Wright Bicycle Co., another historical site administered by the National Park Service.
Again, we are the only visitors, and the rangers on duty here seem thrilled to see us. Besides being in the bicycle business, the industrious Wrights were printers too, and in this space is exhibited their print shop equipment as well as the bike shop stuff.
There are only four Wright bicycles in existence today, the helpful ranger points out. We find especially interesting the workshop where Wilbur and Orville conducted their meticulous and exacting tests – including the ones in which they used their self-made wind tunnel – on various wing and propeller parameters. Our brains are bubbling to capacity with all of this to consider and it’s been almost twenty-four hours since we arrived in town. Time to head home.
We’re crossing the Ohio River at Point Pleasant, and following US Rt. 35 down the Kanawha River valley. We’ll be back in Roanoke in a few hours, and my sons know full well that sooner probably than later I will be saying, “It’s amazing what you can do in a day!”