Once sailing enters your consciousness, it never leaves. It's stuck in there forever. You know how it feels, the wind on your face, the sun on your body, the oneness with the boat. Sailing takes you away, physically, metaphorically, spiritually. 

So when the America's Cup competition heats up, my heart quickens. Now, these are not my favorite boats, I'm much too much a traditionalist for these Grand Prix speed machines. While I love to watch them fly, I don't quite accept them as sailboats, not the real kind anyway. But I am reminded of that old song about "the daring young men in their flying machines", and while that song was about the early fliers of airplanes, I'can quite differentiate between these contraptions as one flies in the sky and one flies upon the top of the water. Is there a difference, I ask myself?

Here's the deal. The picture at the top of this page is a sailboat, a magnificent, historic sailboat sailing away on a broad reach. The photo at the top of this post, to me, is a flying machine.