My world is awfully small.

So Skyler and I are sitting there Sunday night after the airshow, drinking beers (him =root, me=sam adams) when a green truck pulling a 5th-wheel trailer pulls out a couple blocks down from us. We wave and I wonder to Sky where they're headed to this evening.

The truck comes down the street, pulls in besides us and a guy hops out. He checks a couple connections, the trailer doors and lights. I ask him where they're headed to and he says "Louisville".

"You look familiar to me, ever work at Smokin' Hole?"

"Is your name Don?"

He goes back and tells his son to shut down the truck. "Scot Evanson".

"Oh my god." I turn to my son. "I've known him for 25 years, he used to be an instructor and Winona and then I flew with him at Package Air."

They grabbed a couple chairs and we talked until the 'squito's drove us out. They were headed south, hoping to make it to Chicago tonite.

Only at Oshkosh do you run into someone you haven't seen in 25 years.