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.