Victory at last! Or was it? Not quite. Barnes had come down five miles short of the Atlantic, because he had promised a San Diego television station that he would call before his final flight. He planned to cover the last five miles, with suitable fanfare, that afternoon. But by that afternoon the winds had switched to the west, and the weather bureau said they might stay that way a week. Deflation. Desolation. Misery.
Barnes clumped back to his motel room and found a small group of reporters awaiting him. He gave them the news, sank into a chair and glared angrily at the sky. He was out of time (he was due at an air show in San Diego) and low on money (his sponsor had pulled out a month earlier). He was also very tired.
"I'm on the Cape May Peninsula," he. said at last. "I'm on the East Coast. It's not exactly ending as I visualized it. I expected to get wet. But I've made a coast-to-coast flight. I've done what I set out to do."