Shanksville wasn’t our destination, nor were we even planning to go by it, but on a beautiful September afternoon there it was. The sign on PA State Highway 31 said the town and the United Airlines Flight 93 memorial was four miles to our right.
The setting was magnificant. We had just crested the top of a 2500 foot plateau on our way to Somerset, our day’s destination. The sun was low in the sky, the fields green and maize, framed by forest-rich mountains to the west. The air was that particle-free variety that comes with fall in the east and that makes you glad to be alive.
Save for the hour, these were the exact conditions on that day nine years ago. What an idyllic place to suffer such horror.
As I pedaled I marveled at the choices fate makes. Mike, a bicycle-length ahead of me, was a California-based United Boeing 757 captain, the type aircraft used on the Shanksville 9/11 hijacking. There are less than 300 United flyiers in that category, and he easily could have drawn that assignment. In fact he had been in the air that morning also heading west, but to Hawaii instead of California. I was glad my friend was in front of me and not memorialized four miles to my right.
Best wishes for a new week “onboard.”
Pat & I a!lso are glad that Mike is there with you, John! God bless you both