Pumpkin Bombing!

These guys seemed to be having almost as much fun as Punkin Chunkers; Zen And The Art Of Pumpkin Bombing.

So, armed with reason and FARs, a dozen mostly civil antique airplanes rendezvoused at a secret airfield in the hills along the Missouri border where federal statutes have always been seen more as obstacles than mandates. Pilot names and aircraft registration numbers have been sanitized in the interest of taking "reasonable precautions." Suffice it to say that the average airplane was 50 years old, and the pilots about the same age. Most were armed with shotguns for the morning's skeet contest in which free-range skeeters were released before a line of near-sighted shooters who mostly tossed a lot of lead shot into nearby trees. After that, a light lunch of chili, Doritos, and crème soda was served, followed by a military-style pre-mission briefing.

Nervous anticipation hung over the assembled crews like an unclaimed bean fart as Commander Sparky (not his real name) sketched the bombing mission. "Gentlemen," he called. "Try not to hit my car again this year." Then with a steely glance at the flight crews, knowing that some would not be coming back because the chili was gone, he said, "I gotta take a leak." Most of us took that as the code for, "Pick yer pumpkins and Godspeed."

And somehow, a B-25 came out to play with these guys!