At a boring baseball game with family, there was an airshow going on across the freeway. I hopped the fence, dodged traffic and waded into the swarm of oddly smiling people. I had one previous flight in a Pacer. It had cost $3.00 for fifteen minutes. In the middle of the show there was a guy pushing a T34 through the crowd to the taxiway. I helped. He offered and in I climbed. I snugged the four point harness up. He was standing on the wing, looked on, reached in and snugged it tighter. While taxiing he asked if I had recently eaten lunch. "Never been motion sick, just fly". He did. The smile left MY face about six months later. I started making phone calls: "What does SMOH mean?". Many helpful people later and a few irritated ones, a tiny bit more knowledgable, I bought a 172. Oddly and purely by chance, my 172 got tied down next to the only other aircraft owner on the field without a pilots license, another 172. I have never looked back. The day I soloed was cool. But, the first day I went, by myself, to my plane, climbed jn and took off, was terrifying. Upwind, reciting all relevent numbers, thinking about death. Cross wind, watching speeds and altitude, attitude and thinking about death. Downwind, speeds, flaps, carb heat and death. Final, speeds, descent rate, attitude, death. Touch down and OH MY GOD elation. Firewalled the throttle and flew, and flew and flew.