Peter Garrison is not an aerospace engineer, but has designed, built, and flown two remarkable airplanes (both carrying the handle Melmoth) in parallel with his freelance writing career. His Wikipedia entry is here and his personal site can be found in the image credit link, but it's his account of the conception and life of Melmoth the first that most inspires me:
Two Mike Uniform
Designing airplanes is not easy, and building airplanes is probably even more difficult. While the physics and construction themselves aren't too terribly daunting to someone with adequate training and practical know-how, assurance that air will flow smoothly, structure won't cripple, and controls will sufficiently control requires an intense amount of contemplation, perseverance, and luck. While Garrison lacked a formal academic background in engineering, he clearly invested in a good portfolio of those three, though Melmoth's luck sadly ran out in a runway collision in 1982. Still, the tales Garrison tells of journeys in each direction are bewitching to hear, full of wonder, exhiliration, and more than a few headdesk-worthy moments. The author's reflection on the feeling of the end of a long and hazardous flight, in particular, is hard to top when it comes to pure romance:
It was a heavenly feeling to shut off the engine, to see the prop stumble to a halt and hear only the faint soft whir of the freewheeling gyros; to step out of the plane into a strangely balmy evening; to ride the taxi to the hotel; to sip tea and nibble biscuits in its almost deserted pub, survivors -- incognito! -- of a gamble with a ghastly way to go.
Then again, the description tagged to the title photo of this post is simply wonderful:
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