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Maybe she dressed kinda funny. Maybe he kept to himself. She was a little eccentric, joined after-school clubs and was an A student. He was a loner; didn’t play football or run track, wasn’t the flashiest guy on campus, didn’t drive a cool car. Then one day, walking down the hall or hurrying across the quad to class, this person you barely knew swam into your field of view, something shifted inside you, and your world lit up in a new and mysterious way.
That describes my sudden affection for the Pipistrel Virus. I had seen it around and planned to eventually report on it or one of its graceful siblings: The Slovenian company produces an intriguing family of capable and even exotic aircraft. But until that Oshkosh AirVenture day when I drove out to quaint Brennand Airport, I hadn’t caught the Virus bug. Then I flew it. Game on.
