Three other fellows and I were in a four-seater airplane which we had borrowed from
my grandfather Liston. Two fellows were sitting in the front two seats, and two of us were sitting in the back two. We were all only about 18-19 years old. We had not taken off yet, and were only traveling along the service road of a Texas highway. We were thinking of taking off on a trip to south Texas. The only one of us who had a license to fly was the fellow in the back seat with me. The fellow presently steering the plane (wearing a red tee-shirt) didn't have a license, but he was just trying to drive the plane out to a spot from which we could take off.As we continued down the road, and I was checking out the plane, trying to make sure it was air-worthy, we realized a policeman had pulled up behind us with his lights on. When he pulled in front of us, I became worried because I knew the fellow driving the plane didn't have a license. I thought perhaps the fellow in the front could quickly switch places with the fellow sitting next to me (who was also wearing a red tee-shirt). But realizing it was already too late for that, I said, "Well, just tell the truth about everything."
We pulled over and all stepped out of the plane. One of the other fellows first walked over to the police car, and then I was called over. I decided I was going to tell the police the truth about the situation.
Two policeman and a boy in his late teens were there. I heard the policeman say the boy had a pilot's license, and I thought they might have him fly the plane back to wherever they were going to take it. The boy walked back to the plane to see if it had an inspection sticker. Apparently it couldn't be flown without a sticker.
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