Free ALL IN: Race for the White House by Greg Sandora

you don’t look gross at all your hair looks great wet.” I couldn’t believe I was hearing myself say the following and it’s still embarrassing years later, “I fly jets for the Indiana Guard.”  
    Her answer, without missing a beat, “You do, do yah?”  
    I gathered myself and called out as she was walking away, “Hey, what’s your name?”
    She smiled the most innocent smile back at me, “Sarah Winn,” she called back.
    I watched her every motion as she walked away before being swallowed up by the crowd.  
    Bill with pizza in hand said, “I got us both a slice. I could see you were busy, you ready?” I realized I was getting colder by the minute. I grabbed the slice he held out and headed quickly for the truck. We could both move pretty fast, but the trade-off was the faster we ran the colder I got. I settled for a quick walk, legs straight out like a speed walker.  
    We hurried into the parking lot and headed for the truck. I didn’t pay attention to the barker sitting high up in a perch joking with us as we passed. Once I saw the truck, I broke into a run with Bill a split second behind me. By the time I sat in the driver’s seat, it was so cold it sucked the remaining heat right out of me. Teeth chattering, I started the car. I turned the temperature dial to red and waited while the truck warmed up, being careful not to turn the fan on until I knew it would blow some hot air.  
    Bill said, “We shouldn’t have had those icy drinks.”
    I responded, teeth chattering, “Yah think?”
    Once the air was warm, I turned it up full blast and slowly returned to my preferred temperature –warm. I put the truck in reverse and got into the long line of cars waiting to leave. “Bill, that girl I met was an angel.”
    “I saw, did you ask her out?”  
    “No,” I answered, “But I’ll tell you, I wish she was… my girlfriend.”  
    Then, I changed the subject, feeling bad that I hadn’t taken the chance.  
    “Bill, are you going up tomorrow? I need four more hours of flight time this month.”  
    I remember Bill telling me he had his hours. Then he told me he was going to ask his girlfriend Melissa to marry him at the fireworks the next night. He said she made him tingle and vowed he’d never look at other women if she said yes.  
    Melissa was originally from Waterville, Maine. I loved her mid-coast accent; it was adorable. Even though we moved when I was young, talking to her felt like home. Her brown eyes sparkled with love when she looked at Bill.  
    That night, thinking of Sarah Winn, I pulled out of the State Fair, hit the gas, and headed for home. Trying to get her out of my mind, I cranked up the AM Radio of my Chevy Step Side. We listened to George Jones all the way back to Lexington and sang the choruses at the top of our lungs.  
    I took my hours the following afternoon, which was also the day I probably pulled the craziest stunt ever in that jet. I always fooled around, doing loops and rolls, pushing it once I got out of eyeshot from base. But, what I did that day was foolhardy and could have landed me in the brig.  
    It was a partly cloudy day when I got the okay from the tower to take off. The sun was peeking through serene white powder puffs, the kind I always loved to fly through.
    I’d close my eyes and pull the throttle all the way back and push the speed to the max, then with my back pressed four G’s against the seat, I’d open my eyes in the middle of the bright white mist. In the complete whiteout, I’d pull the stick back and go straight up toward the sun.  
    That wasn’t the crazy part. For some reason on this flight, I got the bright idea to fly from our base in Indiana all the way to Lexington, Kentucky to my mom and dad’s ranch. I knew I’d have to push hard to get there and back in my allotted time. You don’t take a 9 million dollar jet out for a joy ride and get back late.
    To fly down to the ranch, I would have to press the envelope the whole way and