[In an earlier stage of my life I lived in Barrett, Minnesota.]
Dick and I lived across the street from Al and Gisela. Gisela made some serious cinnamon rolls.
One Friday night a small airplane buzzed us. This was quite unusual since the nearest airport was in Elbow Lake, a town 7 miles north of Barrett.
Gisela had made cinnamon rolls, and invited us over to enjoy her baking. Just as we left our place for their place, we saw the lights of a small plane disappeared behind the trees north of town.
A little later the siren for the volunteer fire department sounded; of course, we had to go see what had happened. The ambulance had already taken the pilot to the Elbow Lake hospital. The firemen were checking the plane and the surrounding area to insure that no fire broke out from the accident.
On Monday Dick and I were told to meet with an FAA official. We were laughing and joking as we walked down to where the official was. The silence and glare of the official convinced us that he only wanted the facts.