I was very tempted.

“Fly on a War Bird,” the sign said.

What a great idea for a lazy August morning! Another item accomplished from my bucket list — an actual flight in a vintage World War II bomber.

Heck, I’m retired. It’s now or never, I thought. Let’s do it!

Plus it couldn’t be more convenient. Hazleton Municipal Airport, just 14 miles from home.

Imagine that! Flying right over my house in a World War II bomber! A young boy’s dream come true. Yes, I’m retired, but let’s face it, I’m still a young boy.

The price was steep — $450 for a 30-minute flight. Way too high. But I should splurge anyway, I thought.

I crawled inside the plane to prepare. Took detailed photos. Found a cozy spot to huddle in. I figured I’d stay there as the B-17 Flying Fortress soared high into the clouds.

OK, I’m ready, I thought. I’ll fork over my credit card. Let’s get this sucker off the ground.

A 30-minute flight is long enough for me to grab some cool aerial shots of Hazleton, Hometown, Tamaqua, Panther Valley.

But wait … it just doesn’t seem right. The price makes it too extravagant. I already treated myself to a fancy red Mustang, and that’s enough for now. I’d better cool my jets.

I climbed out of the glorious B-17 and shelved the idea for another day.

But that day won’t come.

A few weeks after my close encounter, the plane crashed in Connecticut, killing seven and injuring seven others. They were guys around my age who bought those expensive tickets to satisfy their own bucket list.

One, Robert Ridell, was chronicling his adventure on Facebook.

“Taxiing … not much view from the seats,” he wrote, posting an interior shot. Then he sent a final text to his wife, noting turbulence in the flight. Then silence. He didn’t survive.

The rare bomber was destroyed. It had been built in 1944 and was as authentic as they come.

“It wasn’t just old. It was ancient,” said one news commentator, suggesting it shouldn’t have been taking on civilian passengers. Way too risky.

I can’t help but think about all of this. And yet, that experience wasn’t the only eye opener during my summer.

A few weeks later, I grabbed my camera and took a drive to the Bloomsburg Fair.

They were offering sightseeing helicopter rides, taking off from the parking lot. So I parked nearby, intending to take part.

It was a real bargain, too. For just $20, you could jump into a chopper and take off. The ride circles the fairgrounds, allowing a perfect opportunity for nighttime aerial shots. That’s what I wanted. But something bothered me as I stood there and watched.

The chopper was taking off and landing hurriedly. It seemed to be rushed. The process was going too quickly for my tastes. I suppose, at a mere $20 a ticket, they need to hustle to provide as many rides as possible to make the operation profitable.

But I didn’t like what I saw that night and decided to walk away.

A few nights later, the chopper crashed, critically injuring the pilot and sending passengers to the hospital.

For the second time in a month, I was grateful to have opted out of an aerial opportunity.

Maybe there’s some kind of message in this. I don’t really know.

I once had a job where I flew all over the country and never gave it a second thought.

But I’m older now and maybe it’s time to keep my feet planted.

I still want to take photos from up high. Elevated shots are always interesting.

The camera needs to be up high to do it. But I don’t.

So maybe it’s time for a drone.

Email Donald R. Serfass at the Times News at dserfass@tnonline.com.