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June of 1968: Vladivostok, USSR. We had boarded an Aeroflot flight to Moscow and it was taxiing slowly out to the takeoff point. My Dad looked out his window and spotted a couple of very heavy-looking things clamped to the flaps. He thought it might be something put on when the plane was parked overnight outside the hangars, and they needed to weigh the wings down so strong winds didn't mess with the plane.

He called for the stewardess, who looked where he was pointing, and quickly drew her breath in. She never ever did say a word to us, but she hurried off to the cockpit, and next thing you know, the plane is just sitting out there waiting & waiting. Finally a small truck with a built-in stepladder comes scooting out and a worker removes the gizmos. As I recall, there was at least one more on the other side of the plane too. Then the truck merrily goes on its way, and we finally take off.

My whole family, and friends who were traveling with us, were all convinced that my Dad saved our lives that day!