Leave it to Beaver

I once had a girlfriend named Beverly whose nickname was "Beaver" so I have sort of a pre-history with the warm, fuzzy feeling that I got when new friend John taxied his 1957 DeHavilland DHC-2 up to the beach at my house on the lake, there to repose for a week or so while he carted his stuff to Minnesota for the summer.

John is a pretty cool guy - he once had a business in MN and saved up enough to learn to fly, eventually getting into seaplanes and the Beaver. The flash bulb went off - you remember those - and he decided to make a small(er) fortune giving airplane rides. As he described it, the business that once supported the Beaver became the business supported BY the Beaver and so John did what anyone would do: He started flying full time.

Trouble is, when you're flying a seaplane in Minnesota it gets COLD in the winter and the water gets real hard, so John flew toward the warm weather and found a sleepy little burg in Florida called Mount Dora that welcomed him and the Beav with open arms. 

The Grande Dame of central Florida hotels

The Lakeside Inn at Mount Dora has a long and storied history and John bases his operation there.

http://www.lakeside-inn.com

Lakeside Inn photos were unceremoniously ripped from their web site

What could be more delightful, especially considering the alternative of freezing his tail off in Minnesota?

Now, in mid-April, the practice thunderboomers are trying out their muscles here in central Florida in preparation for their summer season and John has a date with his paint shop up north, so he and the Beaver are wending their way to the uppa yew-ess by way of a couple of stops in Alabama and other dockside rendezvous . . .

Safe flight, John. See you in the fall.