This week, I was minding my own business welding on my car trailer in my hangar when I glanced up to see a stranger. About my age, he was wearing shorts, lean, tanned with a bit of a white close cropped beard.

His question, "Where do you have a motor home park, a commercial one with electricity?" I referred him to Karrer Park which he had somehow missed turning into the airport. At the time I wasn't sure that the park had electricity available; they do and it is free as is the stay for two days. 

Further conversation with the gent, his name is George, informed me that he is a retired Northwest Airline pilot. He (properly) admired my memorabilia wall in the hangar and then we toured the other open hangars and visited about the variety of airplanes "living" in each. It turns out that he was born, raised and learned to fly in North Dakota but after his airline career elected to retire in a flying community near Daytona, Fla.

He had been back home visiting in NoDak but didn't like the summer heat and was headed home to Florida to cool off. I am sure the trip would have been comfortable as he was driving a 44 foot diesel pusher motor home with a huge yellow Honda motorcycle hoisted up on the back and pulling a full sized pickup. I offered to trade his rig straight across for my hangar, airplane and all but he declined due to our summers being too hot and winters too cold.

Later that evening Ann and I drove to Karrer Park to check on him but no trace of a huge motor home that night. I was again reminded that Karrer Park is a treasure in our community. Those who care for it and keep it looking attractive are to be commended.

It was a good week for meeting characters at the airport, I also had the pleasure of flying with Hector. Hector had called a couple weeks ago and wanted to rent an airplane and be checked out by a flight instructor. During that conversation he was quick to inform me that "My passport is out of date."

OK, since 9/11 we flight instructors are not supposed to train any foreign nationals without first running the paperwork through ICE and TSA.

It turned out that Hector was native born -- yes, California counts, so the training of foreigner's precaution didn't apply anyway.

Hector arrived at the airport driving a new VW with a bicycle strapped on top.

He was dressed typically Californian. It turns out that he lives in Downey and is a college physics professor. He is an avid history nut and wanted to fly the airplane up the Republican River and down the Platte to experience what the country might have been like when it was populated with Native Americans before the arrival of white men.

Hector flew the airplane well and I turned him loose on his own although he did express a sense of being lost here in our openness without an ocean on one side and mountains on the other. Actually we have both, one just have to go a little farther to find them!

My tie with these two visitors to our community? I'd say a sense of curiosity and all because I fly! We live in a really unique and wonderful location and who says that we have nothing to offer to tourists?

I may still have a touch of the farm in me because I enjoy mowing my lawn. Well my old silver mower cratered and I went looking to buy a new one. I thought about getting it delivered outside the city to avoid the sales tax but decided that wasn't honorable even though it is legal and a common practice with several local businesses.

So I went back to the big implement dealer where I spent many a thousands of dollars when I was an active farmer. The mower they sold my wife 25 years ago has given good service.

Evidently my business is no longer appreciated, because I walked into the lawnmower showroom, examined several new machines on display with nary a hi, boo or howdy from the several salesmen busy at the parts counter.

Then I walked out past two employees, proudly wearing their dealer's shirts emblazoned with "leaping hinds," both engrossed in a personal conversation, no other customers, no good bye, come back or may I help you there either.

I drove around to the backside of the building where lawnmowers are repaired and looked for possible used ones for sale but no one was working that area on Saturday morning either.

When I went home and expressed my frustration about being ignored to Ann she commented that she had been treated the same way when she bought the first one. I guess some things never change sales tax or no. Maybe customer service is a more important business attractant than being able to advertise "Goods for sale and we don't have a City sales tax"!

Next stop was a big hardware store where I know the clerks are eager to wait on customers. As soon I walked over to the new machines on display, Dawn descended on me like a duck on a June bug. I don't know whether it was her pretty brown eyes or her knowledge of the product that made the difference but I now have a bright and shiny new red mower to follow around to complete my weekly chore. Yesterday I received a thank you post card for buying their product and that made the deal even sweeter!

That is the way I see it.