After I had survived my little skydiving adventure, Cadillac Man and Tinkerbell thought they might like to have a go at it. Neither of them were big on thrill seeking but the idea of it caught on with them. It was unusual for Tinkerbell as she was the only one of my brothers and sisters who had no interest in racing and never did it.
Cadillac Man and Tinkerbell weren't a couple so it was just a coincidence that brought them together for this incident. I don't think I was inciting anyone to do it but I had come back from my adventure with a major tingle. On seeing that, they decided to give it a go.
I'm not sure where Lotho was but he might have been off in the Air Force by this time. He sucked as a soldier too but at least he learned how to do something useful (i.e. fixing jet engines) while all I learned in the Army was how to light a cigarette when the wind was blowing.
When we got out to the Waynesville Airport, I had pretty much decided I was just going to watch as I hadn't made up my mind whether I wanted to do it a second time. When one of the regular skydivers heard I might not jump he asked why not. He said it in such a sneering way that it really pissed me off and that settled it. I was damned if I was going to jump on command from some dork who thought he had a right to call the risks for me. Thrill seekers set their own risks. It's one of the laws or something.
Since I wasn't in the Cessna, I can't give the story of how that went but I'm sure it's a safe bet that it unfolded in pretty much the same way as my jump had gone. While sitting on the ground, I had changed my mind about jumping as it was scary to watch people do it when you care about them. It was too late for me to do anything about it so there was nothing for it but to wait.
Cadillac Man went first and he mentioned in a comment on my adventure article that he had the same enormous terror but still considered it one of the great experiences of his life. I didn't know on the ground who went first but it was a great thing to see the parachute open for anyone. Some time later he was back on the ground, quite surprised and immensely pleased that he was still alive.
My sister went next and there was again the great relief to see the parachute open. It seemed all was right with the world ... but she wasn't on the ground yet. It turned out she didn't have such a good handle on the landing.
We all ran out to meet her as she had successfully navigated her way back to the airport. When she hit the ground there was a big whack as she didn't roll out of it properly. The result was that her head banged into her knee and there was instantly blood all over the place.
Oh hell, I killed Tinkerbell. This isn't a Debra Winger movie and no-one is going to die but I wasn't at all sure until she started moving. It turned out she hadn't even broken her nose but there was blood all over the place. This moved from killing my sister to, whoa, how am I going to explain this to my parents. That wasn't much better but it was still a huge relief that she wasn't badly hurt.
She is a game lass, my sis, as she didn't make a sound. There's a Fraser tradition that you can't make any noise if you're smashed-up. We'll whine like hell over paper cuts but you'll never hear a whimper for the big ones and, sure as hell, she didn't complain at all.
There was still the problem of telling my parents but that was fading in importance. This wasn't the first time any of us would come home covered in blood and it definitely wouldn't be the last.
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