By JIM CARCHIDI

MASCOTTE, Fla. – This is how Clark got Lois.

'The question "Do you fly?" has been asked of me before and the answer is normally met with indifference. A brief flashback to a security check; the wait at the terminal; a moment of curiosity when the horizon tilts as the aircraft ascends into the clouds. 
 
"Yeah," is the standard response. 
 
But it turns out I've never really flown. I learned that today when, during a photo shoot for my job at Orlando Business Journal, I was offered a few turns in a WWII Stearman. 
 
The owner, a local architect and antique aircraft enthusiast named David Gay, is building a residential community around an airfield complete with hangars. The location, Mascotte, Florida, is quite a haul from my home in Orlando. And the fact that I had to drive it on a Saturday for work purposes did not make for a cheerful morning. 
 
Driving along Highway 33, I passed through communities that make Mayberry look like Manhattan and saw several "bear crossing" signs - a sure clue that you're in the sticks. I fully expected to see Heather, Josh and Mike fleeing the Blair Witch through the underbrush when I came to the intersection I was seeking.

 
Cow pastures lined the roads that led to the construction site. The open fields and lush green landscape presented a very peaceful scene. The natural beauty was well-preserved amidst the development which only consisted of a few hangars, a clubhouse and one residential home. The home had its own attached hangar, just like a big garage. 
 
"Come back next year and there'll be homes and hangars, weekend gatherings and events," David assured me. 
 
He envisions about 20 to 30 aircraft parked along the strip, taking turns flying around the area. This gives new meaning to the neighborhood block party. 
 
After I shot all the photos I needed, David offered to take me up in his 1942 Stearman, an antique biplane he purchased as a "basket case" and logged over 5000 hours rebuilding and restoring. 
 
After a minute of instructions on how to climb into the open cockpit - you can't step on the wing or grab un-reinforced sides of the cockpit or step on the thin sheet metal floor in the center of the cockpit - I was in the seat and strapped in like the very first guest on SpaceMountain. Before I knew it the engine was revving, the whirling prop was invisible, and we were moving. 
 
A quick taxi to the end of the runway, another rev of the engine and we were off. 
 
The short trip along the grass runway was surprisingly smooth, and I didn't realize exactly when we were off the ground. David pulled to a higher pitch toward the end of the runway and I stared at the horizon. Then I watched the ground get farther away as the view expanded beneath me. I realized I could just lean to one side and feel the air current on my cheek. There were no windows, no pressurized compartment, nothing to encapsulate me from the experience of defying gravity and feeling the winds beside me. 
 
This is what man dreamed of before Kitty Hawk. This is why we could not be satisfied with an earthbound existence. 
 
I kept in touch with David through a small headset and switch-activated communicator.

"Some people like to go golfing on the weekend, I like to do this," he joked.

This was a little more fun than golf.

With my camera strapped across my chest, I snapped photos of the wetlands and pastures as the plane banked. I stretched out my arms to get shots facing the rear, and even managed a portrait of the pilot at the controls. At one point I felt the wind tug my camera almost out of my hands. Strap or no strap, I kept it a little closer after that. 

We circled the neighboring properties and buzzed in close along a patch of marshland. A voice at the back of my mind cried out, "This is Red Five, I'm goin' in!" (Once a geek, always a geek.)

About twenty minutes or so after take off, we were coming in to land. We flew toward the runway and the engines cut briefly for descent. A few sputters, then quiet. Just for a second or two, but a void so peaceful I've never imagined. Just a silent glide over the landscape.

The hum resumed as we approached the smooth patch of grass and gravity was more and more noticeable. The ground met us with a touch as gentle as when we left it. And in a few yards, we were back where we began.

After thanking David for the hundredth time, I was off home. The walk back to the car was more a placement of everything I saw from the air and mental comparison of distance and view. I looked for trees that we flew over. The marsh.The pastures.And with each find, a glance to the sky.

"There I was."

Now, the question has a different meaning. I get it now, even if the person asking me does not.

Do you fly?

I have.

Check out Jim's photos from the flight.