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This story was originally posted to the rec.aviation.piloting newsgroup:

Those who have seen the movie "One Six Right" know how perfectly the 
film's director melded video and music into a seamless, majestic 
representation of flight.  Since the very first time I saw the movie -- 
and I've watched it a dozen times since -- when I hear the opening bars 
of that theme song my spirits soar, and I am airborne -- no matter 
where I am, or what I'm doing. 

We had finished off a hectic weekend at the Inn with a Sunday luncheon 
for the Iowa Chapter of the Ninety-Nines -- the International 
Organization of Women Pilots. We have hosted their annual meetings for 
the last five years, and it's always fun -- but a LOT of work. 
Everyone wants different food, and they all need rides from/to the 
airport, and there are always plenty of tours to give and questions to 
answer.  In short, it's an intense -- but fun -- day. 

After all the hoopla subsided, and we had delivered them all safely 
back to their planes, we found ourselves with three hours of daylight, 
crystal-clear blue skies, and keys to an airplane.  It was time to fly! 

With daylight limited, we headed for "The Good Earth", a restaurant 
next to the airport in Muscatine (MUT), Iowa that is known for 
home-made pies.  After a big lunch, dessert was all we could do, so 
Mary, the kids, and I enjoyed huge slices of freshly baked pies, with 
dollops of rich vanilla ice cream on top, and steaming cups of hot 
cocoa.  It just couldn't get better. 

Waddling back to Atlas, I couldn't help but ponder how lucky we were. 
With another record year nearly under our belts, an ever-growing 
clientele of repeat customers, and a widening circle of aviation 
friends that truly spans the globe, this was a day for Thanksgiving -- 
just a few days early. 

It was with these thoughts in mind that I advanced the throttle and 
felt the wheels grow light. 

Climbing at over 1500 feet per minute into the 20-degree sky, Atlas was 
lighter on his feet than usual, thanks to only carrying half-tanks for 
a change.  (Counter to our usual practice, we had skipped fueling after 
our last flight, and didn't need any more to complete this one.)   With 
"only" enough fuel on board to fly for 2.5 hours, our 235 literally 
flung us skyward, and we whooped as we rocketed in an express elevator 
up to 4500 feet! 

Leveling out on top of a cold haze layer, the Mississippi far below, 
the sun was setting in a perfect, flaming ball at our 10 o'clock 
position, appearing as if it were resting atop a never-ending bowl of 
milk.  My 13 year old daughter (usually so jaded by flying that she 
sometimes throws fits about doing it) quickly asked for my camera upon 
seeing the glorious view.  My spirits soared higher still, as my 
reluctant little flyer had at last found *something* about flying that 
was cool and unique once again... 

In absolutely still air, we effortlessly sailed over all below, whether 
created by man or God.  The setting sun cast mysterious shadows on the 
haze and the earth, below, and then -- the music started to play. 

The CD from "One Six Right" has been soldered in our player since the 
day we bought it at Oshkosh, and Mary had silently pushed the "play" 
button.  As the opening bars from the movie started playing, all 
chatter on board instantly ceased as we wordlessly took in the beauty 
and sheer magnitude of the view. 

The piano portion gradually gave way to the orchestral crescendo, where 
(in the movie) a gorgeous Douglas DC-3 pulls up and away in a smooth, 
effortless wing-over. Almost without thinking, I found my hands and 
feet suddenly guiding Atlas through the same routine, in time with the 
music. 

Each crescendo was met with a gradual pull up and bank to the 
left....then, as the music subsided, we would roll over on the wing, 
smoothly and gradually descending back to our original altitude, only 
to pull back again, this time powerfully to the right.  The push overs 
at the top were gentle, but firm, and resulted in some easy negative 
Gs, but nothing violent or uncomfortable.  All maneuvers were done as 
smoothly as possible, never exceeding normal category flight, and were 
choreographed perfectly to the "One Six Right" theme song. 

Mary and the kids were in utter rapture.  I'd done this kind of flying 
alone, but never with the family on board, but the conditions were so 
perfect, and my attitude so in tune with the situation, that it seemed 
utterly natural and routine.  We were wheeling and soaring through 
space, up 500, down 500, then down another, then over on a wing, all in 
time with the music and without so much as a ripple in the sky. 

It was perfect.  Life was perfect.  Nothing could ever mar the 
experience, and nothing will ever scar the memory.  For that one, brief 
period, everything I was, everything I am, and everything I ever will 
be was expressed wordlessly in flight, through my body, in my flying -- 
and we all knew it. 

With the music ending, the moment passed, and we were sated.  Happily, 
we flew the remaining miles back home, back to the land, back to the 
real world, changed and thankful.