On Sunday I started north with a medium-sized chance of getting to St Simons Island on the east coast of Georgia. I was looking forward to being rained in there for the day because I remember it being beautiful, and I wanted an excuse to stop and explore the island. That morning it was foggy until 9 am in Lakeland, so we took off late and headed northeast to fly over the Green Swamp and Kimball’s to wave goodbye. Right past Apopka I started dodging the small rain showers dropping out of the sky while fiddling with my GPS XM weather, which was not coming on. Zigzagging right and then left, between gray and sunlight, I passed abeam Deland and all the light to the northeast went out. With no XM weather the only thing to do was land and rethink. On the Skydive ramp early Sunday morning, there was no FBO, and no hangar. I sat on the bottom rung of the ladder next to maintenance crew, while rain sprinkled on the Speedmail and I studied ForeFlight to find somewhere to go next. It wasn’t safe for my plane there and the radar on the coast was now lit up with green and yellow. The only place I knew he would be safe tonight was back in the hangar at Lakeland. We waited until the rain stopped, uncovered and turned around and flew back to where we started from. 
The next morning fog lifted late again and it was about 10 am by the time we left Lakeland. Jim was waiting for us in Valdosta and while I had not met him before, he told me on the phone that morning, “We have a hangar for you Sarah, whenever you get here.” That was all I needed to know. We were going north, somewhere north, before the tropical storm came in and now the first stop would be Valdosta, GA. The next stop was in Barnwell, SC because Tim was there waiting for us. After my course line on the GPS through South Carolina became covered with storms I looked down and an airfield triangle seemed a perfect choice below me to land and rethink. An hour later the hangar doors where opened for Buddy to be tucked in. I was told to help myself to a bologna sandwich in the fridge, and that the van keys were there on the counter whenever I was ready to go anywhere. 
Wednesday morning Dale at Camden was waiting for us to arrive. He had called me with weather updates all the previous day and had very subtly suggested, “I was boxed in for the rest of the afternoon at Barnwell.” Dale had been right and I stayed overnight in nearby Aiken, thankful for another night of feather pillows and good sheets. Now the fog had mixed with the low pressure coming up from the Gulf of Mexico and Barnwell was dark and misty until about 10 am. The plan was first to Owens, then Camden, then if I saw good light ahead and the radar was clear, we would continue north. I took off and just south of Columbia the visibility went down, and then further down. I could just see the stadium next to Owens airport and turned towards the field happy to land. A sweet voice on the Unicom reminded me “right downwind was preferred for Runway 13.” Peggy and Stoney were there waiting for us at Owens Airport. Peggy told the line crew to ready a space in the maintenance hangar, then she told me I needed to, “put that beautiful plane in right now,” five minutes before it poured. She then handed me the crew van keys to go to the 5th Avenue Deli, to take a break and get some lunch. When I got back there was a short window to leave. After we rushed to pull the Speedmail out, Stoney stood on my wing to make sure my WX was up on the GPS, after showing me the course I should take north on his iPad to get through the mess of weather while I ate. As we flew towards Virginia, Dale was leaving messages on my phone about fog still around Camden, Stoney was texting me to report how far I got, and Harvey was texting from Baltimore, MD, “where r u?” We crossed the border into Virginia and the radar cleared for the first time in three days. While the sky was still hazy, we only had to keep flying until the light or gas ran out to get to Pennsylvania. We landed in Danville, VA to refuel and I texted Chuck I had a chance of make it to Chester County Airport before dark if Rich Palmer could be there when we landed so we could get into Jim Beasley’s hangar. Chuck texted back, “just get there, be safe,” he would make it happen. So I stood on top of the engine cowling and fueled the wing tank, then down to the main tank and the whoosh of fuel through the nozzle suddenly started to trickle. The pressure was going down and down, I looked at the fuel guy and asked, “Is this truck running out of gas?” He replied, “Yep, sorry the Ag guys used it all up today.” A surprise to both of us, but Al Schiffer was there waiting for us at Danville with his fleet of Ag planes on the same ramp. I forgave him for “bogarting” all the avgas for this lucky chance meeting between two Stearman friends, one flying up from Florida and one flying down from Michigan. A happy coincidence just to get a hello, a picture, and a quick hug goodbye before we took off to fly around the ADIZ to Frederick, MD. AOPA had been my original destination, a special stop to see Bruce Landsberg, and now it was after hours and no one would be around, so a quick fuel stop and I would be off to Coatesville, PA. I texted I’d be out KFDK at 6:50 pm and in KMQS by 7:50 pm. We only had a 40 minute flight ahead, but the sky had completely cleared for the first time in three days and I really needed to drop down in the fields and breathe. Buddy and I deserved to play with our shadow on the last leg in the twilight, chasing us across the hay fields and over the tops of amish barns, so we took our time getting there. 
Approaching Chester County the Unicom hollered back to us, “Hey Speedmail,” and again, “nice landing,” after we touched down. Rich Palmer was there waiting with the giant hangar doors open, and all the lights on in this magical Brigadoon overflowing with Jim’s collection. Just after I shut down Chuck flew the P-51 overhead for a low show pass and pull up – the pull up makes the P-51 whistle and it makes me clap and laugh each time I hear it. Because of the rain the next few days, it was decided my Speedmail would stay at Jim’s and Chuck and I would fly into Reading the next morning in “The Brat” to be ready for the WWII show, then drive back to get our bags. Everything had worked out perfectly in this imperfect, impromptu flight to somewhere, anywhere north, before a tropical storm. 
That night catching up on days of emails, I read a great one from Al Marsh at AOPA. He was walking across the parking lot of the Frederick Costco about 6:30 pm and he heard a radial engine and saw us fly overhead, by the time he got to the airport I was already departing runway 12. Al wrote me, “I jumped out of my car and ran towards the runway yelling, Jimmie come back — it’s me your most loyal club member. It was sad but after a bowl of ice cream at home I felt much better,” So there had been someone at Frederick waiting for us to land that night….knowing that I felt much better too!