Ross and Keith Smith’s Vickers Vimy at Adelaide Airport is a throwback to an era when airports celebrated the wonder of flight rather than being shopping malls.
By Tim Shannon
I HAVE a memory, or perhaps it is a memory of a memory when I was three, flying with my mother from Melbourne to Adelaide on a cold night in a noisy plane that had two big propellors. We were joining my father to board a ship sailing from Outer Harbour, bound for England. He was a young aeronautical engineer who had spent three years working at the Government Aircraft Factory at Fisherman’s Bend in Melbourne, and now he was off to England for two years of research at Farnborough Airport. My recollections of the slow six-week voyage are unreliable, except for looking through the cabin porthole at the lights of boats flickering across the water.
I HAVE a memory, or perhaps it is a memory of a memory when I was three, flying with my mother from Melbourne to Adelaide on a cold night in a noisy plane that had two big propellors. We were joining my father to board a ship sailing from Outer Harbour, bound for England. He was a young aeronautical engineer who had spent three years working at the Government Aircraft Factory at Fisherman’s Bend in Melbourne, and now he was off to England for two years of research at Farnborough Airport. My recollections of the slow six-week voyage are unreliable, except for looking through the cabin porthole at the lights of boats flickering across the water.
