In the distance a lonely train whistle wails. The hangar is dark, cold, lonely, a bit spooky as it creaks in the wind. What little light creeps in through the cracks separating the giant doors is barely sufficient to outline the looming shadows of the planes stored all around.
P-51 Mustang. F8F Bearcat. F6F Hellcat. SNJ Texan. B-25. Zero. Spitfire.
Off in the far corner of the hangar is a light, a beacon of hope, a symbol of better times to come. There, far beyond the dark aisles of P-47 parts it lies…
There is a God! One Diet Coke left!
Warmth will have to wait – tonight we have caffeine!!