Feeling of Flight

I've been 61 years on this earth. I wonder if I can subtract the years I've been in the air? What am I doing at a busy airport on Saturday morning in West Houston waiting to go flying? It's a clear day in the 70s but the wind is blowing like Dallas with nothing to stop it. We take the runway for take-off and all I can see from the rear seat of this experimental "tail dragger" is Loren's headset perched on his ball cap with a few instruments to his left and right. I'm not flying today. It's my birthday flight and there's no rhyme or reason as to why I said "Let's go flying." I love the sound of "clear prop!" and the crank and rumble of the engine starting. I can't wait for the acceleration at take-off and the first weightless moment of flight.
The planes on the left are waiting with jealous eyes for this sleek red and white rocket to take off. Hangars to the right with bi-planes, high wing and low wing "birds" being pulled out by their owners fade as we feel the acceleration. Rudder pedals moving left and right, tail wheel up and blue sky above as we're off and the quiet of the headsets quickly puts us into another world.
At three miles per minute we should be in the practice area in five minutes. I watched Loren build this aircraft for five years. He caressed every rivet and loved this plane into existence. "You've got the aircraft!" his hands over his head to show me that I was flying now. "Got it!" I breathed heavily into the microphone. I said "aileron roll to the left" and raised the nose of N614SL above the horizon before I pressed the stick full left and watched the world tumble in front of me. Pleasure and excitement filled my chest as I went upside down and back to level flight. I could do this a hundred times and not get tired. There's nothing to fear but the deceleration of the final landing. I don't want to come down.