Little Red Death Machine

I'm not quite sure how I came to this point.  Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly how I came to fear for my life.  It all seemed innocent enough to begin with.  The super AFJROTC teachers had arranged for us to take an airplane flight to give us the experience of being in the clouds.  We arrived at the Fletcher, NC airport and eagerly awaited for the plane and the pilot to show up.  Around the corner was a red, two seat, open cockpit aircraft.  Each student took their turn going up and circling the airfield and then landing.  It was my turn.  I hopped in, buckled up, and waited for take off.  During this time, someone asked the pilot how he acquired the plane; he answered that he had built it himself.  HE BUILT IT HIMSELF!  I was now strapped into what was certainly a death trap.  I could just imagine the bolts working themselves loose and me falling to the ground.  Before I could voice my opposition, we were in the air.  I quickly checked for any duct tape holding the plane together; none could be found.  My hands began to sweat, I could feel the blood draining from my body, and I was sure I was whiter than any ghost.  My anxiety was all for naught.  One circle around the field and I was back on the ground.  I jumped out of the plane and kissed the ground, and promptly spit out an insect.