The Day I Soloed James

Back in the College Park days around 1972 I was a hot shot neophyte flight instructor. I actually knew everything. My best friend James was my best friend ever. He was bright, and very good natured. He was one of those guys who could operate machinery very well. He had gone on a few flights while hanging around at College Park. Mostly with me. Nothing formal. Somewhere along the line he got a logbook and I had put a few entries in it. He could fly pretty good though. One day I told him he ought to get a Student License so he could solo. And that if he paid for the plane rental I would teach him enough to solo. He thought about this. A long time went by and I was surprised one day when he showed up with the license. As soon as I had time I flew with him in the 150. He did great as usual. I made sure he could do a good go around and I turned him loose. My friend Butterfield was there, also soloing a student. I said, "Hey John, watch my guy he's great." James took off in the 150 and looked great. He turned crosswind and he turned away from the airport, and he flew away. Out of sight. I said, "Shoot I'm goin' to the office and try an' get him on the radio". As I head to the office I can hear Butterfield saying something like "yea Lou that guy is great, just great". No joy on the radio. As a matter of fact we never much used the radio. So now what? We wait. First solo! Damn where is he. It seemed like hours but he was back in 30 minutes. Into the pattern, nice landing , taxi in shut down. He was smiling. I shook his hand. " James, where the hell did you go"? "Just flew around, went over to Freeway" (Freeway was an airport nearby, and not a long runway). "Freeway? You went to Freeway? Did you land?" "Yea" "My God James! What did you do at Freeway?" "Nothin', just took back off again." "James, you scared the crap outa me. Why didn't you just fly a pattern and land like you were supposed too"? "You and I always went to Freeway". I was pretty sure I'd told James to fly the circuit and do everything just the way we'd been doing it to a full stop and all the standard first solo stuff. He kind of had me thinking that since I hadn't specifically told him not to fly away that he had done nothing wrong. So what could I say? My best friend had just soloed and done an amazing job. I had to admit I was impressed. He had about 4 hours in his logbook.

just down the road

Ever land on the road? I guess in other countries they do. In emergencies too, of course. Or bush flying where the road serves as a runway. Where I am on Delmarva there's lots of private strips. To many of the farmers it's really no big deal. They just land in one of their fields. If you have a 180 Cessna, you can land anywhere. My airstrip was a big deal. I had to get permits and set-backs and culvert pipes and hearings and lots of things. But I'm not a real farmer. They call me a "hobby farmer", or a "gentleman farmer". A real farmer just lands his plane in his driveway. I grew up in the suburbs. You had driveways. You park on a driveway and you drive on a parkway. In the country, your driveway is like a road to your house. It's called a "lane". "Lloyd, why are you building an airstrip? Isn't your lane long enough for your plane?" One day I landed the Cher OH kee on this road near my house. It's a nice straight, paved, quiet road. I did it just for the hell of it. I used to instruct near Las Vegas about 35 years ago. We used to fly over to this nearby place called "Jean" for fun and with our students and to get gas and to eat. But the runway was closed. You just landed on the highway and parked at the Gas station. Back in '78 we used to park at the Marine Terminal at LaGuardia at this back lot. You would have to open a big gate and then taxi a DC-3 across a road. You had a traffic light too. And lots of cars. Back when I was in college my buddy Tyler was delivering an airplane to a shop and I rode along with him. When we got to this place near Trenton we landed and followed the directions. We found ourselves taxiing off the airport and down the road. Cars, stop signs, lights etc. We dropped off the plane and they had promised us a ride back home. They simply put us in one of their customers airplanes with a pilot as young as we were and we taxied back down the road and went home.

Mentors may Come and Mentors may go, But Malcolm taught me Soul Cruisin'

I know I know I havn't been posting. I got so damn busy. How can an old retired guy get busy? It's because I only do one thing a day. If I go to the store, that's the day. Mow some grass? That's it. I had this court appearance for a really nasty speeding ticket. It was way down the peninsula in Exmore, Va. Had to appear, couldn't just send in the fine. It's over now and all OK. Also had to gather a lot of paperwork and see bunch of Docs for a Special Issuance for my FAA medical. My 3rd Class is only good for one year. Took the M-10 on about five great day trips to Fly-ins, parties, local hops, dinner with wife at GED. And one three day trip to the Outer Banks. Been too busy to write to you my friends, and I have missed you. I have this friend Malcolm. I need more than one post to describe him, or any of his stories. He tells the stories way better than I. He's been to all the continents and all the seas. He's flown land and sea planes in more places than you or I could ever visit in a lifetime. He's the kind of guy that everybody loves. He could sell anybody anything. When I was 14 I guess he was about 17. Thats when I first met him. I was just a kid. But Malcolm was... well he was older and knew what was going on. He had a Corvette! Which he still has to this day! He had a job, a cool job. He could fly planes! His dad had a plane. The second time I ever went up in a plane was in Malcolm's dad's plane. Oh yes, and Malcolm knew about girls. I knew girls were very exciting, but I didn't exactly know what you precisely did with them or to them. Malcolm knew all this and a lot more. I was a Cadet in the CAP. I was the newest, lowest Cadet in the Squadron, and Malcolm was the highest ranking, and best Cadet in the Squadron. But Malcolm never bossed me around like the other high-ranking cadets did. He was always cool. Sharp and cool. After the high school days I didn't really hang out with Mal for about 40 years. I kept track of course. Mal and his brother Steve are kind of famous in General Aviation. One Thanksgiving I was between airplanes, and didn't have anything to fly. I had sold my old Cher OH kee to help raise a downpayment for the farm I have now. Malcolm's brother Steve worked at the same airline that I did and he said I could use their family 172 over Thanksgiving. I wanted to take my wife and son to South Carolina. So I was up at Frederick and it was time to gas up the plane and give me the keys. "Hey Lloyd when's last time you flew a little airplane?" says Steve. "I have no idea. Whenever I got rid of 33J". "We better get Malcolm to ride around with you." "Yea OK" So Malcolm and I take off and fly around the pattern. All planes fly the same-from a cub to a 747. I hate it when people say that. Corporate pilots always say that. So I seem to be flying the Skyhawk OK and we line up to land. I'm pointing it pretty good anyway. But I seem to have trouble getting the airplane slowed down. I get the flaps all the way down without exceeding the flap speed. Then I settle into a nice stabilized approach at about 100 mph. This brings me into a nice smooth flare at about 100 ft. I have no idea where the ground is. Malcolm doesn't say much. He was mostly curious I think. As we settle to touchdown, he does get concerned though. Being used to a larger airplane I had kind of picked up a little habit. Sometimes when the flare was paying off and you were just floating an inch or two above the runway, you could just ease in a little aileron and put one wheel on the ground, maybe get it rolling without compressing the shock strut. The drag from this action would be enough to land the other wheel and you would "roll it on". A check out in a 172 was not the time to be using this technique. Especially when you're 30 mph too fast and fifty feet off the ground. Malcolm simply said, "Stop doing that" Finally we settled to the ground, and I was pretty good at taxiing. So Mal said we should take the plane back to the ramp. And I said oh no "your giving up on me?" "No , you're all checked out and I'm out of time". "After that, you don't want to see one more?" "No Louie, you're fine. Just promise me one thing". "Yessir" "Don't do that thing (he wiggled his hand like a plane banking) anymore, ever, ever again". Gen Av Informal

July 7

We really had a great weekend. I moved the Cher OH kee to a spot right in the back yard by the pool. So the 140 was really invited to the party. Today is the 7th and 4 July is over. Today is also my son Matt's birthday. So the plane can still sit there because the party still goes on. Everything got rained out Fri. night. We did fireworks at midnight. My son stayed up all night. Then on Saturday we did it all again. Sunday I piddled around in the hangar. So now every night I just light a Tiki torch and the plane sits there and the party continues. Today I notice that everything needs mowed again. The airstrip takes about three hours. And everything else takes another three. Not counting bush- hogging or pastures. Looks like a possible M10 trip to Carolina may be coming up. Seems like there's plenty to do. How did I get it all done and still work full time? "Hey Lloyd, when you retire, what will you do"? I'll do whatever I want. Yea. In a year of retirement I have a little more insight into pacing myself. There's one thing I know. You can't just do "whatever you want". Everything in life is temporary. Personal. Situational. Cumulative. Relative. The hardest thing about getting what you want is finding out what you want. I don't want to live every day like I'm gonna die tomorrow. Sounds like too much work. But when the good times happen, I'd like to be there in the moment and live right then. Doesn't have to be spectacular stuff all the time. Last night I had a lot of fun just working on a bench I'm building. It was exactly what I wanted to do right then.

Yard work on the 4th

My last few posts have been a bit sentimental. Do you think? Too flowery. Today it's pretty mundane. It's 4th of July and wife and I don't really have any plans. Couple of friends are coming over tonight and we're going to cook out and maybe hang around the pool. My big projects for today are getting the flag up and putting in a new window unit air conditioner. It took me 40 minutes to get all the tools and ladder and find the flags and fix the flags and clear off the porch. And 5 minutes to put up the flag. The porch was overgrown with poke weed, poison ivy, and Virginia creeper. I stopped everything and started clearing out that god awful mess. I hope I'm not itchin tonight. While I was doing that, this guy Pat flew over in his Scout and started circling. I knew who it was right away. It looks and sounds like a Citabria on steroids. He didn't land though. Probably has 4th plans and needs to get back to Annapolis. That Scout is on the short list of best planes ever. My neighbor is the guy who tills my place and my farm is one of the many little farms and businesses that he manages. Over the years we've always used a rule of thumb about when the winter wheat gets harvested. "July 4th". Of course it's just a target. Could be rainy (which is in the forecast), or another farm to do, etc. But here's the 4th and he's out there cutting. I've got this silly idea. He's basically mowing the wheat which is essentially the front yard. I'm thinking of taking my bush hog and mowing the wheat stubble in a prominent spot and moving the Cherokee 140 into that spot as a "gate guard" just for the fun of it. And I'll mow the front lawn and I've put up the flags. My friends will probably show up after dark and not even notice my lawn ornament. But it is one of the longest days of the year.

I met her at a little airport, or, Matthew read this post. It tells how Mom and Dad met.

"Little airport" is a relative term. To me, Montgomery County Airport in Gaithersburg, Md. is a very big little airport. It's now trapped in the Washington ADIZ. If you're married, people sooner or later ask you how you met your spouse. I've been married twenty years, and of course my story must relate to General Aviation. It almost always does. BD with the biplane is Brian number 1. His good buddy, the A&P and machinist is my pal Brian A. who is Brian number 2. Number two had this cool friend Howard S. who was a rocket scientist and I flew with Howard a few times at College Park way back when. ( CGS comes up in every story I guess). Years later around 1987 when Howard wanted his nephew to learn to fly, he called me. I wasn't instructing anymore, and no longer knew everything as I once did. Howard insisted I fly with his nephew. I'm very glad he did. I still had a current CFI. My original CFI was from March of 1972 and I have never let it expire, not once in 36 years. One time about five years ago when I was getting my CFI paperwork renewed at BWI, the FAA inspector asked me if I was doing any instructing or planning to do any. I told him no I hadn't and probably wouldn't. He then was curious as to why I would renew. I think I'll answer his question in a nice long Blog post someday. There's a list of very good reasons. If the Fed guy at FSDO had to ask that question, he'll never understand the answer anyway. On a clear cool January day in 1987 while flying with "Rene", Howard's nephew, I for some reason wanted to drop in at Montgomery County Gaithersburg. The two guys who were running the field at the time were good friends of mine. I just felt like going somewhere instead of "teaching in circles". ( I get instructors into my field here in present day who feel the same way) So we drop into GAI. We get parked and I look around for Lowell and Rick who are my buddies. Then I see her. I'm so interested in her I get confused. I forget why I'm there. She's in front of the airport building. We sort of walk past her but I don't remember that part. I tried not to stare at her. I went downstairs and went to the boys room. Came back up and saw Lowell in the hall. "Hey Luther whatchooupto?" "Lowell, I just saw a girl that I think I love and want to marry." I realized I had just successfully said the word "marry" I was one of those bachelors who couldn't get that word out. I would say, "Yea someday I'll get mmmaaa- mmmmaaarrr- maaayybe. " Lowell, I just said the word marry" "Where did you see this girl. Who is she"? "Right here. Just now. I gotta go find her." I couldn't find her. Where did she go? I checked the parking lot before she could get away. I checked the flight line. Then I saw her. Right back at the front door again. She was waiting for somebody, maybe a plane. How could I talk to her? Meet her. Can't just go up to her. Rene was asking me something but I wasn't paying attention. Would Rick or Lowell know her? I could sense she was getting ready to leave so I just went up to her. I was so nervous by now I just wanted to get it over with. I had to meet her. "Hi. Are you going up in a plane today? Would you like a plane ride?" "No. I actually just went up" "Oh". I said lamely. "In one of the school planes?" "No. In that." She pointed to the gorgeous Shrike out front which was the nicest plane visible on the entire field. "Oh". I said lamely. Silence. Can't let there be silence. I heard myself say, "I'm here with a plane and a student from Laurel, I just instruct as a hobby. Would you like to go flying sometime, or perhaps have dinner or anything, I know I'm being forward, but I'm a good guy and Rick and Lowell know me well, and my student Rene is that guy over there...." She smiled just a little. "I live in Dayton Ohio" she says. "so it would be hard for us to get together." To me, that was not a no! "Believe it or not", I say, "I work at Detroit Metro Airport and that's my second home. Maybe I could still contact you. I do a lot of traveling and have been to Dayton many times". We banter back and forth and talk about Ohio. She decides to give me her local DC number, where she won't be but I can leave a message. I put out my hand and say "I'm Lloyd". She takes my hand and says, "Vicki". Rene and I flew back to Suburban. He asked about the girl I was talking to. I said, "Rene, that is the girl. I just met her and she's gonna have my children." Less than a year later Vicki and I were married by the local mayor at Fairborn Meadow where the Wrights flew their Flyer from 1904 after Kitty Hawk till the Military days at College Park in 1909. They made a famous Air Base and museum there called "Wright Patterson". Vicki and I have been married twenty years. I am very lucky because I have something I care about more than anything else in the world. Of course if Vicki finds out it's the M-10, she'll be pissed. GA Informal.

How do you thank an airplane

Back in the early eighties I had a different PA-28 140 than the one I have now. It was a bit run out. All original everything. I talk about it in a Blog post called "Hangar Flyin". One night I get back to my condo in Old Greenbelt, MD. after a long tough 4-day trip. I'm beat. It's late spring. I fire up the air conditioner. Hit the head. Gather up a week's mail that has clustered in a mess on the carpet under my door slot. I hit the play button on my answering machine. It starts rewinding and then playing messages. I'm listening and making a drink and taking off my work clothes. The usual messages come in. My best buddy and his schemes. Some family stuff. Then I stop and freeze and listen and rewind and listen again. A message from "Jodie". This is a very, very attractive girl I have been working on for months, with little success. Now her message requests that I call her because she has a proposition for me. I dial her up. Hello and Hi and sorry it's so late and glad you called, I say. "Lloyd, do you still have that plane?" "Of course I do". "Are you free tomorrow?" "Yes, I think so" "Is your plane ready to fly?" "Of course". I lie. A big lie. She starts telling me about being in Atlantic City with her friends who are this couple and they had invited her to the beach, and she's tired of them and their slot machines, and doesn't like the guy they set her up with and doesn't want to ride home tomorrow in their Volvo in Sunday night beach traffic, and could I pick her up and she would like another ride in my plane...... I'm only half listening to all this. My mind is racing. I'm thinking of how absolutely hot this girl is and she's calling me. And the Cher OH kee ain't ready at all!. We talk over some details and I agree to pick her up at little AC airport the next afternoon. She says she will owe me. We hang up. What have I done? I was exhausted, but now I'll never get to sleep. The 140 is in the ratty hangar at Laurel Suburban. It's been down all winter. I can't even remember when it last flew. It was grounded for a few reasons which I don't exactly remember. I toss my drink and make some tea. I gotta think. I can't sleep, so why not get started?. I put on my grubby clothes. I head out to the hangar which is 12 miles away. It's midnight. I get some lights going in the hangar. The airplane, 33J is sitting there covered with a carpet of red clay hangar dust. There are tools on cloths all over each wing. A cooler on one wing from a party we had. The tires are low. I check the struts. These are a problem on lots of Cherokees. They are a tad low, but serviceable. The back seats are out and sitting on the plywood floor of my little 10x10 "club house" in the corner. The rest of the hangar floor is dirt. With lots of old carpet to keep the dust down. I will have no water for washing the plane until they open tomorrow. I pull out the battery which sits under the rear seat bench. I put it on charge. It is dead, and may not take a charge. I fire up my little compressor and air up the tires. I check the gas in the wings. Of course it is low. I get my five gas containers. They are five gallons each. I head up to the all night gas station. This was before all gas stations had card readers and were automatically "all night". I fill up the cans and fill up my car. Head back to the plane. I put in the twenty five gallons. I take the empty cans and go home. I can fill them again tomorrow on the way in. At the condo I turn in. It is 3:00 AM. I'm up at eight. Big pot of coffee. Put on the same grubbies. Take a thermos. Head for the gas station and the airport. Get a breakfast snack. At 9 AM on a Sunday the airport is alive. The weather is nice. It's post Memorial Day but not quite summer. There's already a guy at the wash stand with his vanilla 172. I'm screwed because I need that washstand. The guy is struggling because there is not enough hose and the nozzle is broken. I head to the hangar. Get the full gas cans out of the car. Jump back in the car and head to the "Two Guys" auto store. This is before there was Trac Auto, Advance Auto, Auto Zone. But before I leave the airport property I stop at the office, which is this typical little shed type house that all old airports have. A "flight shack". This one is classic. Those glass jars with the crackers and cookies, a coffee pot with the can for your money. An old glass case with plotters and sunglasses and charts. A single bathroom that doesn't work very well. My friend Debbie is the daughter. "HI Lou, where you been?" "Hey Deb. Been workin". Would you have a plane I could rent at about 3 or 4 o'clock today and keep the rest of the night"? "We're all booked up. Could you take it after dark?" "Maybe" "Coulda let you have the Arrow, but he started on it today" "Overhaul"? "Yep" "See ya Deb" "Hey Lou, is it a fly-in or a girl"? "A girl". I go to Two Guys and I get a bunch of cheap hose on sale. I get some wash soap, some towels and a nice not- fancy nozzle. I get an electric connector kit, and some fuses. I get some easy to use liquid wax. I'm on a very low budget. It's 10:30 AM. Back at the airport, I start making friends with the guy with the Cessna at the wash stand. He works at NASA at Greenbelt. I hook up all this brand new hose and the new nozzle and I help him finish up. Looks like I'm next in line. This other guy was going to wash his Citabria the guy says. I figure I'll get my plane over here and park it as the Cessna moves out. Usually I'm not pushy. I like wasting time at the airport. But not today. Problem is, no battery in my plane. It's not far away so I yank it down by hand and stick it behind the Cessna. I run down to the maintenance shop which is closed, but Denny's car is there. "Hey Denny, can I buy a battery from you? "I'm closed, it's Sunday." "I'd install the battery and charge it and I could give Debbie the money, all you'd have to do is hand it to me." "Yea?" "And when I come back here to fly about 3 o'clock I'd hand you a cold six-pack of Michelob. "Come to think of it I got a Concord that'd fit your plane already charged. Supposed ta go into a Pitts, but the guy never came back." "Denny, my engine oil is black dirty. Would it make any sense to drain it and just put in new oil without bothering with the filter just for now"? "Wouldn't hurt nothin" "Can I get a case of Aeroshell"? "How many six packs you bringin"? Back to the washstand. When a car or airplane is really dirty, you have to be really careful not to spread dirt all over the project. You can do more harm than good. I flushed the whole airplane with water and just my hand before I used a towel or soap. Moved it back up in front of the hangar. Put a coat of liquid wax on the whole thing too and polished the plexi inside and out. Didn't do the bottoms of course. It was 1PM, and I was running out of time. I drained the sumps a bunch before I took a sample. I decided not to top her the rest of the way off with the auto gas I had. I would put in Av gas. I checked over the engine compartment looking for bird nests. I install my brand new battery. I put the back interior in shape and installed only one of the back seats. She fired up nice and we went out to the runway for a nice run up. Mags good after some leaning and warming up. Back to the hangar. I drained the oil. While I let that drain I vacuumed out the interior and cleaned up a bit and armouralled the panel and vinyl. I realize I'm out of time. Pablo walks up. "Got your message Luther what's the big crisis"? "Paul you gotta help me, I need to run back to the condo and shower and change, then get back here and fly to AC New Jersey and be there at five." "So you can fly your little chickie" "How'd you know"? "Because you said so in your message". Pablo agreed to put the oil plug in, add the oil, dink around with my temporary Loran installation with some proper connectors, tell Denny I would soon be there with the beer and could he safety wire my oil plug. And move the plane to the pumps and top it off. I do a quick change at the Condo and pick up a case of beer. Denny and Pablo wait for the beer and put a new landing light bulb in. They do the safety wire and put in the oil filter which did the job right. They tie wrap and connect my loose wires. They top her off with 100LL and reposition her on the hard surface. I show up in white Levi's smelling of after shave. I produce the cold beer. "Thanks, I owe you guys". "Yea, you do". A few hours later, Jodie and I are at 4500 ft. flying west into a beautiful sunset. Down below the beach traffic is snarled on Rt. 404, Rt. 301, and Rt. 50. They are all trying to get across the two spans that cross the Chesapeake. One span is closed for repairs. Jodie loves the spectacle. A snake of red taillights that runs for thirty miles. The air is smooth as glass. I am very slowly letting down as we cross Annapolis. The sky is red and blue and orange. Jodie is smiling. I pop the cork on a little split of Champagne I had on ice from where I bought the beer. She starts laughing. She says, "Lloyd, I am sufficiently impressed. We can do anything you like tonight and I mean anything. I just hope you didn't go to too much trouble". "Oh, no trouble at all." The engine was purring. There was daylight for the landing. Thank you 33Juliet.