It has been pretty well established lately by the tree huggers and ozone-heads that our cars are just too damn expensive and dangerous to the environment to operate. Never mind that our entire societal infrastructure (that’s right, I’m using words like “infrastructure” deal with it) is based on cars, we are supposed to suddenly fall in love with rail travel, bike riding, and driving in cars smaller than medium sized squirrels, just like we’re damn French people or circus clowns.

And I am not, I repeat – not going to load my luggage on some busted-ass bicycle and drive it careening down the road like some latter day Ho-Chi-Minh trail rider to my vacation like I’m a Chinese Cessna Skycatcher factory worker or something.

Screw that – maybe we need to give up driving our cars as much as we used to, but I suggest we take it even a little further and establish a strong bush flying economy down here in the lower forty-eight states.

What would you rather do, go to the movies with your kids in the family Chevy? Look for parking in a hot parking lot after listening to their damn iPods ® playing that stupid Millie Vanilli Cyrus Hanna Montana crap? Go to the gas station afterwards after the movie and after driving your yard apes through the Wendy’s ® drive-through only to find that the gas pump won’t accept your credit card and you have to go into the convenience store where I’ll no doubt buy some un-needed lottery tickets and some Zig-Zag papers even though I haven’t toked on any kind of “J” since Jimmy Carter was deciding between running for president or joining the Peace Corps with his wrinkly old momma who I think was named “Miss Daisy” although I can’t remember because I was stoned at the time.

Or would you want to load the ankle biters into the Super Cub, fly directly to the Cineplex, land on the roof and go right in? You would fly directly back home, meaning you save gas, you don’t have to go to the convenience store and you absolutely don’t have to buy your chubby kids snacks they don’t need anyway.

Bush flying should be the main way of getting places in this country. All we have to do is allow airplanes to land anywhere they want, just like in Alaska. If I need to go to the grocery store, I don’t see why I can’t land my balloon-tired Maule in the parking lot. I don’t see why I need a stupid bus pass or a bicycle to get around town when a gyrocopter would do the job much better, faster and with less disgusting stuff stuck to the seat.

Instead of driving my SUV out to the soccer fields, why can’t I fly the team out there in an old Cessna 180 or even a dog-assed 172? There is no reason why I couldn’t throw their sorry butts out of the door to do a little skydiving as a warm-up to their game.

I’ve had to drive from Kentucky to Florida way more times than I ever imagined I would this year. Imagine the gas I could have saved if I flew over Knoxville and Atlanta and avoided that hawked-up, wet and spitty hairball they call an interstate highway system.

Think about it and write your congressperson. I’m going to climb into a Champ and head over to the lake with some grenades. It is time to go fishing.