In the summer of 1973, I was a 20-year-old intern at Portland’s afternoon daily newspaper, the Oregon Journal. The 48-year-old Goodyear Blimp came to town.

The paper ran big pictures of the blimp (free publicity), but wanted a reporter to ride on it and describe the experience (a good story). I had less to do than the real reporters, so they sent me.

That was the day I learned that Goodyear doesn’t spend hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to take downshots of football games. The blimp exists to reward dealers and their best customers with a unique experience, one whose rarity makes it precious and motivational. Before boarding, I also learned (to my relief) it is filled with helium, not the explosive hydrogen that destroyed the Hindenburg.

That summer I flew in two other hovering aircraft: an extremely noisy helicopter and the quieter but not silent (gas jet) hot-air balloon from which I threw out promotional  packets of the relatively new Lipton Cup Of Soup. I was also taken up in a glider, which creaks and groans and is full of wind noise.

Blimps are noisy when the motors are running. When the motors are cut, there is silence in the drifting blimp that is literally incomparable. It is as close as a human can come to safely flying with their own wings, looking down at the Earth far below. Anyone would be willing to sell a lot of Goodyear tires to gain that experience.

Among the memorable moments of my 30 years in journalism were shaking hands with President Reagan, shaking hands with Jimmy Carter during his campaign, and driving a Boston Green Line train on the Riverside Line at 1 a.m. Still, flying in the Goodyear blimp is right up there on the list.