The shuttle landing on his head. Well-combed hairs offer endless runways, just land on top of any one of them. At a slightly different scale, you can't land on the hairtrees anymore, you can only steer into between the gaps, crashlanding, hoping you'll get out through the smashed windshield alive, and that the place you land at isn't too near the egg-cache of some alert predator.     But I never saw it land. I flew directly to the Garden of Eden, where there was a message waiting for me in my grandfather's diary.