I would have been 4, possibly 5 years old. Always prone to the cutting edge, I rode the crest of the burgeoning wave of single mother children. I was usually the only kid in my class whose original parents were divorced (mine did at age 3). I lived with my mother from 3 to 6 years old, spending a lot of time at my grandparents as my mom was also leading the charge of single, working mothers.
Anyway, my grandparents lived at the top of the "avenues", which are the streets and neighborhoods (now quite chi-chi) which sit on the foothills right up above downtown Salt Lake City. So, the foothills, which lead quickly to legitimate, big mountains . . . were my backyard. And my grandmother Thelma, with 6 children of her own, was a sweet but somewhat lackadaisical caretaker as far as I was concerned. . . . I remember pretty much being left to roam the neighborhood backyards and nearby fields for hours at a time, carrying the steak knife I'd taken from the kitchen as I imagined myself to be a Cherokee Indian scouting and on the hunt. . . .
My little buddy at the time was a boy named Roe who lived across the street. He was roughly my same age and we played a lot in the yards--crawling through bushes, climbing trees, building forts--roundabout our homes (me and my mom lived with my grandparents--her parents--at this time).
One day, Roe and I were sitting on the grass in the neighbor's backyard which was directly next to, on the west side of my grandparents house. As all these houses were built on the side of small mountain/foothill . . . the yards usually were terraced down the hill. This yard (the Milligans) had several levels going down--a flat of grass . . . some steps . . . another flat of grass . . . dirt path . . . a large patch thick with fitzer bushes running to the chain link fence at the bottom.
Roe and I were lolling on the second lowest flat of grass, on part of it the was a slope up to the next flat. A large Russian Olive tree was just behind us, downhill to the SW about 20 feet. I remember the yard well, having played in it many times and crossed through it later as a teenager walking to school or to friends (when I later lived with my grandparents after my mom's 2nd divorce.)
So . . . Roe and I were talking, sitting there on the grass; it was a warm, sunny day, blue skies . . . when we both happened to notice something flying above us. Looking straight up--I kid you not--there was a . . . well . . . how to describe? . . . There was something that looked like a black, large bat-plane, cruising slowly, silently over our heads. "What is that?" I remember asking Roe. We were both shocked. I think he suggested maybe a loose, giant kite . . . but then we both knew that was not even close to true. . . . This thing had mass. I can still see it roughly in my mind's eye. I can see perhaps some small red lights . . . something like under-carriage doors or panels . . . some other details attached to it. . . .
We watched it glide very slowly over us, over the roof of the house, going north toward the mountains. It appeared to be only about 30 or so feet above the roof top. It's wingspan reached about 3/5ths the width of the house. . . .
Then, I'm not sure . . . but it really does seem like there was some missing time. I recall wanting to run around to the front of the house to continue watching it, but both Roe and I just sat there, glued to the spot as if we couldn't muster the energy to follow it. It seems like also . . . we were afterwards, suddenly in a different spot in the yard, closer to the Russian Olive tree. . . .
This was the first . . . of quite a few . . . strange incidents and witnessings . . . that occurred in my life, of various types . . . throughout the years. . . .
Roe moved away not long after that, but we stayed in touch and he came to town about 8 years later when I was around 13 and visited. I remember asking him then if he remembered that strange sight of the black, bat-shaped craft that hovered, gliding over us . . . and he did. And he did not have any better explanation than I for what we both saw that warm, sunny day, circa 1966. . . .
Here are the closest examples of craft that I could quickly find to add to this story, as to the general shape and size, though it was definitely black. black, black . . . and had no visible wheels/landing gear. . . .