It's getting into the time of the year when, if you want comfy VFR flying, you'd best plan to be back down by noon. Heat-driven cumulus clouds start popping up and, even if they're not forecast, one or two might get angry and start hurling down lightning.
And it gets hazy. If you're up above the joyriding bugsmashers, you can get into a situation where you are legal VFR and effectively IFR. It's like flying in milk.
This morning was nice and there was hardly any wind. I tracked in on the local VOR and, without any maneuvering, got this result:
Got a little interesting at my home `drome for a minute. I was in the pattern and someone called in for a GPS practice approach on the opposite runway. It wasn't going to be much of an issue, for it appeared that I'd be on the parallel turf runway before the GPS-driver executed a missed. But then some {deleted} taxied out onto the turf runway as I was on short final. Now maybe {deleted} thought I was going to land on the pavement and {deleted's} airplane would be clear. Why {deleted} couldn't have just held on the taxiway was the object of a few seconds of Navy-lingo exposition on my part, but not over the air.
I went around. Which of course meant that there was the matter of the inbound GPS-er. As soon I was established in a climb, I broke to the right. Only to see that the inbound GPSer had realized that the practice approach had gone to shit and was breaking off to the left. See, the airport has one of those deals where it is right-traffic one way and left-traffic the other way, which on the rare circumstance can have airplanes flying right at each other.
It all sorted out. {Deleted} took to the air. GPSer got back into a practice approach, but this time, did the one for the active.
Which brings me back to the title. When I finished, gassed up and secured the airplane, I patted it on the cowling and thanked it for the flight. Just something I like to do.