In England, I had purchased a small sport plane from Lady Mary Heath. It was the one she had flown alone from Cape Town to Croyden. Its fuselage was studded with medals and mementoes of her historic flight, and when she turned it over to me, she put on another. It says, “To Amelia Earhart from Mary Heath. Always think with your stick forward.” In other words when your attention wanders, be sure the nose of your plane is down to maintain flying speed for safety.
Just as the book was about finished, the Avro arrived, and between correcting last chapters, I flew it from a nearby polo field. Then with the final proofs of the book ready, I purchased a lovely assortment of air navigation maps and headed for California and the National Air Races there.
I still had no plan for myself. Should I return to social work, or find something to do in aviation? I didn’t know—nor care. For the moment all I wished to do in the world was to be a vagabond—in the air.
