Heretofore we had been milling about behind the ropes which lined the field. At my suggestion we invited ourselves into the arena and looked about. I saw a man tagged “official” and asked my father to talk with him about instruction. I felt suddenly shy about making inquiries myself, lest the idea of a woman’s being interested in trying to fly be too hilarious a thought for the official. My father was game; he even went so far as to make an appointment for me to have a trial hop at what was then Rogers Airport. I am sure he thought one ride would be enough for me, and he might as well act to cure me promptly. Next day was characteristically fair and we arrived early on the field. There was no crowd, but several planes stood ready to go. A pilot came forward and shook hands. “A good day to go up,” he said, pleasantly. My father raised an inexperienced eye to the sky and agreed. Agreeing verbally is as far as he went, or has ever gone, for he has not yet found a day good enough for a first flight. The pilot nodded to another flyer. “He’ll go up with us.” “Why?” I asked. The pair exchanged grins. Then I understood. I was a girl—a “nervous lady.” I might jump out. There had to be somebody on hand to grab my ankle as I went over. It was no use to explain I had seen aeroplanes before and wasn’t excitable. I was not to be permitted to go alone in the front cockpit. The familiar “contact” was spoken and the motor came to life. I suppose there must be emotion with all new experiences, but I can’t remember any but a feeling of interest on this occasion. The noise of the motor seemed very loud—I think it seems so to most people on their first flight. The plane rose quickly over some nearby oil derricks which are part of the flora in Southern California. I was surprised to be able to see the sea after a few moments of climbing. At 2,000 feet the pilot idled the motor and called out the altitude for me. The sensation of speed is of course absent, and I had no idea of the duration of the hop. When descent was made I know the field looked totally unfamiliar. I could not have picked it out from among the hundreds of little squares into which populated areas are divided. One of the senses which must be developed in flying is an acuteness in recognizing characteristics of the terrain, a sense seldom possessed by a novice. Lessons in flying cost twice as much in 1920 as they do now. Five hundred dollars was the price for ten or twelve hours instruction, and that was just half what had been charged a few years before.