By now I’m sure you’ve heard the new that American adventurer Steve Fossett’s plane has been found, as it’s been all over the web. You may recall that Fossett went missing last year when he left on a solo flight and he was never seen again. Search parties looked for days for the missing millionaire, but no trace was ever found. Until now.
Earlier in the week hikers in the Sierra Nevada region of California discovered Fossett’s pilots license and a few other personal artifacts in a remote backcountry region near Mammoth Lakes. That discovery spurred a renewed search yesterday, which ended with the discovery of the plane last night.
The reports say that most of the plane disintegrated on impact, leaving very little to find. The engine was discovered several hundred feet away from the fuselage, but at this time, there is no sign of human remains. The local sheriff who reported the discovery noted that it’s likely that wild animals in the area probably cleaned up those remains, which seldom last for more than a few days.
I, on the other hand, prefer to think of it in another way. Steve was probably looking for a break from the busy life, so he deliberately crashed his plane, bailing out well before hand, and is now living the life of luxury on a beach in Mexico somewhere, free from the hassles of a busy day-to-day life of a millionaire-adventurer. I picture him sipping a cool drink, feet propped up, kicking it with Elvis and D.B. Cooper, recounting tales of the good old days, while Margaritaville plays over the ancient speakers of their tropical hideaway. Yep, that’s how I want to think things went down. Hey Steve! Save me a seat pal!
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