the other blog is up

Call my other blog the evil twin. It's me, but I'll gripe about organized religion. It's still me, Mr. General Aviation Guy. but I will Geezer Rant. I've got three posts up on it. You can find it by clicking here on"complete profile" then scroll down to "my blogs" and then just click on LloydLou I Talk to You. It's odd that after wanting to branch away from General Aviation( and I intend to keep posting on GA Informal cause I love it) I seemed to have written a post about aviation sort of. In the new blog. About logging time. Hey I just write it down. I'm not organized. I was in Las Vegas for a week and I got a little behind. I'm due to talk about my soggy but drying out airstrip and my PA 28 which will be coming home soon. And now no more music stories and stuff here. I'll be back to just GA flyin. My buddy is getting a Decathlon and I want to tell you about him and the airplane when it comes. And I want to talk about when I got fired from Central American Airways, a DC-3 outfit back in the day. And when I almost got fired from Nicholson for being involved in the Dynamo Dave incident. Yes read blog #2. I'm looking forward to posting there. But I'll be here on old #1 too. And where will I find the time for all this posting? Here's where: there is less to do around here in the dark of winter. The next GA mission will be picking up the PA 28 and bringing her home from Mr. Mechanic. First nice day I gotta get the Cadet over to Easton for it's transponder check. That will mean talking to a control tower. And eating lunch at the Airport cafe. Eric, would you like to go with?

the "other" blog is coming

After a wonderful six night extravaganza in Las Vegas over Thanksgiving I am home. Talking to you. My dear readers. Who have given up clicking on your bookmark titled General Aviation Informal. It might be boring for you if I tell you all about my wonderful trip. Like the old cliche of the guy showing his vacation slides. Remember "slides"? Like vinyl records. I'm so old that I used to listen to 78's. My parents had an old "step-table" console and a small collection of 78's. Burl Ives, Gene Autrey, Bing Crosby. They had loose 78's and they had "books" of 78's with anywhere from 2 to about 8 records. These books of records were called "albums". So when the new"33 1/3 long playing (LP)" records came out they held as much as one of those books of 78's. So the LP was called an "album". And CD's are called albums to this day. The 33 was so high tech we couldn't believe how new and great it was. The first one my sister got was "The Kingston Trio, String Along". My parents had "slides" too. But not in a carousel. The projector had a gadget that would show one slide at a time but you could load a stand by slide, then twist the thing around top to bottom and see the new slide and unload and load the top slot. It was a pain in the butt. But when I was about five or six I loved to operate the thing. I still have the projector and many of the slides. I have a collection of 78's, 45's and 33 1/3's. I use one of those label makers that punch out the letters on plastic tape which you can still find sometimes today. But they don't work too well, never did. I used to also have as a kid, a picture viewing gadget that would hold a disk with small slides and you put in a slide and look through binocular lenses and move the lever to advance the slide. It was called a "magic viewer" or something like that. One of the disks we had for that was Niagara Falls. Once TV became popular, these other video devices faded away. When I was a kid of course I loved TV more than anything. My mom had rules about TV. More than one hour would ruin your eyes. Too close to the set.... ruin your eyes. Too far from the set...... ruin your eyes. If you sat on the floor to watch.... ruin your eyes. If you didn't have a lamp on while watching....ruin your eyes. If you ate in front of the TV.... ruin your eyes. But mom, what about TV Dinners? (a blog post all by itself) ......those that eat them in front of the TV will ruin their eyes. Color TV? ....... ruin your eyes. Oh yea and our rich neighbor had a remote for the TV in about 1959. It was a hard wire across the room and it was set up to rack the dial around with a complicated mechanical attachment to the channel knob. But he had trouble keeping it adjusted and working. And of course you would still have to get up and go to the set if you wanted to change the volume, or turn the set on and off. And my parents had grown up with radio. They would say: "Are you going to listen to the game on TV? So, no, I'm not gonna bore you with my "slides" of Las Vegas. And this blog post is supposed to be about General Aviation. I'm gonna start another blog to handle all the other topics I want to talk about. I'll still keep this blog for General Aviation. And I will never run out of General Aviation stories. My new "other" blog is going to be about things I don't understand because they don't make any sense. Or they seem, but aren't, supernatural. Or just things I really love, or really hate. Oh yea, and I want to have a place to tell airline stories. And I had promised in GA Informal that I would not do that. And I have kept that promise. But now I'm starting to get crazy dreams about my old airline career and it's time to tell the stories and hopefully the dreams will go away as my former suffering fades from mind. Also, I like to vent about religion a bit. I won't rant on, or be mean to Christianity. I will just talk common sense and fun. And there's music too, even though I'm in a narrow niche. We're goin to Rita Coolidge on the 18th. So look for me on another channel. I may call the blog "Lloyd's free-for-all" or maybe.... "I"m Uncle Lou, and I Take Everything Personally". Happy late Thanksgiving everyone. Talk to you soon. GA Informal. :::::+:::::

Buss man's Holiday

I love the "sea changes". Especially from bad to good. We had that Nor Easter that just got out of here yesterday. Today I finally see the sun. Yesterday I walked around the place checking to see how bad we were flooded. But it wasn't too bad. I had some standing water on the airstrip, but nothing that won't dry up in a week or so. Our soybeans got cut, thankfully, just before the big rains. Last Wednesday, during the rains, I went up to Dover and worked on the M-10 with Mr. Mechanic. All of the stuff I've mentioned in previous blogs about my lack of mechanical ability, well it applied as usual. And I literally did go to get coffee for the guys. I'm looking forward to getting the M-10 back home. There's a guy who is serious about buying it. That could happen after Thanksgiving. I'll be on vacation for six days up to and including Thanksgiving. Vacation. I'll be on vacation. For the last two years I've been on a permanent vacation. So how do I get in the state of mind that feels "vacation"? Well, I'll be going somewhere. Las Vegas! So, let me get this straight. I'll pack bags, plan flights, forget one or two things, drive to BWI, schlep through security, fly to destination, wait for the hotel van, and go to the hotel, check in and then find somewhere to go to dinner. Vacation? OK, if you say so. It sounds like the work I retired from after 33 years! Yes, it's called a "Buss- man's holiday". You see, my wife won this crazy trip by sending a photo into "Regis and Kelly Live". She answered the question correctly on the air and she won a fabulous vacation for two. There's lots of parts to the prize, and we're looking forward to every one. Especially meeting Regis! I can tell you what will be the best aspect of the trip for me. It will be being with my wife and basking in the warmth of her company. The second best thing about the trip will be coming home to my beloved "Rosewind", seeing my son after three months, and greeting my dog, "the Jaker" who will have waited for me the whole six days. I'm not waiting for Thanksgiving. I'm the "Buss-man" who is very, very, thankful right now. Gen. Av. Informal. :::::+:::::

Navy SEAL Petty Officer William DeGennaro

It's been almost a month since my nephew Bill was stricken in Afghanistan. It's time for me to talk about him. To tell you, my faithful readers, about him. He's not my blood nephew. His father, James, was the best friend I ever had. And I've always been Bill's uncle. Bill is a twin and I've always been Uncle Lou to the twins and the other three siblings. I could write volumes about this family. Which has been my family. They are the nicest, kindest, most forthright folks you could ever have the good fortune to know. I am the man that I am, in good part, for the knowing of this family. There's a lot of good blog posts I could write about my early years before the twins were born. But not now. I could talk a lot about Bill's mom when we came of age. But not now. I could spend some time on the twin's grandparents on both sides. But not now. There's lots to say about Bill's twin and his brothers and sisters. But not now. You see, I have to talk about what happened and my and everyone's reactions. I can't write any more blog posts, or put up any more YouTube's, or go to any more fly-ins, until I talk to you, my readers, about Bill. I got the word about Bill being seriously injured on Saturday October 10th. About a month ago. It was his older brother who called. Bill, the twin in A-stan, was in a coma. He was going to be airlifted to Germany ASAP. He had suffered brain damage due to lack of oxygen. Jim, the older brother, was so patient and kind to me. Here he was comforting me when his brother was in peril. Thanks Jimmy. I just sat there at my desk. It wasn't sinking in. I was numb. Shocked. So I told my wife. Just telling her seemed to make me better, like she was there to share my sadness, and yet now she was sad too. What she said later is getting to my point of this post. You see, we were going to go out on this Saturday night to the Avalon Theatre to see Nick Lowe. So hours later after the news about Bill, my wife said this: "Lloyd, after what's happened to Billy, do you still want to go out tonight"? I didn't know what to say. I asked her to decide, but she said she would abide by whatever I decided. I was confused about what I was feeling. I was at a stage where I wanted answers as to how did this happen to Bill. Like somehow we could replay it in a better way. A kind of denial. I thought it might not be appropriate for us to go out. Out of respect for Bill. But he wasn't dead. In fact he was fighting for his life. I walked out back towards the airstrip. I just kept wondering and worrying about Bill. I couldn't cry. Then I thought about Bill's dad, my friend James. The tears came easily after that. I went back in and heard myself say to my wife: "Honey, one twin is my flying buddy and one is my music buddy. The music buddy is the one fallen. He can't speak for himself now, but he wants me to see Nick Lowe and Bill Kirchen and tell him about it later." We that love Bill are going to feel guilt along with our sadness and anger and confusion. Readers, I want you to know that I love those twins so much, that there is no earthly way to ever convey it. And I know each of you feel the same way. And I love all of you as well and thanks for understanding. My best wishes and prayers go especially to Bill's mom and Bill's twin. Yes, I'm gonna write my blog posts. Yes, I'm gonna go to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. Yes I'm gonna live my "Disco" life. Twin #1 told me he speaks right now for both men. He said it's OK with Twin #2. I hereby dedicate this post, and any and all blog posts I write for the rest of my life, to my good friend and nephew, a genuine hero, William "Willy" DeGennaro.

Georgetown De. Wings and Wheels

As the days get shorter and the temps get colder the fly-in season tapers to an end. Pretty soon the Holidays will be here and my die-hard aviation friends will be talking about April and Sun'n'Fun. And we'll do it all over again. My personal finances are such that I can't host too many parties, but I'm thinking that I'd like to have a winter fly-in. Maybe a campfire and a few local planes. Just to get the engines exercised and the batteries charged. So it turns out that GED Georgetown, De. may be the last fly-in for the season. Of course there's always Campbell, almost every Sunday. I went to GED this last Saturday. It was a wings and wheels. The weather was about as bad as it could be without canceling. There were about 200 cars. It was great. Cobras, a Jensen, lots of vetts, a tricked out Corvair, 2 rail dragsters, street rods galore. Just as a car show alone, it was excellent. They were giving rides in a restored PT 19. There were two B-25's. One was the polished "Ponchito" and it was selling rides too. There were formation flights flying around all day with smoke systems. One formation was 2 L-39's with 2 T-28's. It was a spectacle. Constant fly bys of beautiful war birds. Yaks too. So I showed up in my little M-10. There was a small turnout for display airplanes due to the weather. However the beautiful 1957 Cessna 310 I had seen at Essex Skypark was there. It was my favorite of the day. A "Sky King" airplane. I have some videos of the old Sky King TV show. The oldest episodes had Sky King with a T-50 Cessna. But in the later episodes it was the 310. I got to meet Kirby Grant, the actor who played Sky King. He signed one of my log books. It was at College Park and not too long before he passed away. The guy who had the 310 at GED lives in my old home town and his wife went to high school with me. They win prizes wherever they go with that 310. This day he won the prizes for best twin and largest airplane. And he also won a prize for being the youngest pilot displaying an airplane. Trouble is, he's in his late 40's! These car shows and fly-ins seem to be for old geezers like me. And the guys with the street rods are long in the tooth too. Sometimes there's a young kid with a 60's classic. But if you talk to him, it's his Granddad's car. This fly-in had a food court. Incredible. Lot's of choices. I had a hot dog. They had Karaoke at the food court. Lot's of families. Good ole Delaware east coast Americana. I found myself turning in a little slip of paper to the Karaoke guy ( who was a good host and good singer). Then I was singing "Someday Soon" at a fly-in. That's a first. It started getting windy, and misting and raining. The antique and classic cars started rolling out towards the gates and home. They still had Halloween to celebrate tonight. The t-28's kept flying. I wandered back to the M-10 and found I had won a prize. It was a plaque for "Shortest Distance Flown". 23 miles. It was time to go, but I wasn't going home. I was hoping I could get the airplane up to Dover in the wind and the rain. My flight up there went well and I only went through a little shower and it wasn't dark yet and the winds were dying down with the sunset. I tied the Cadet down and didn't have to wait long for wife to arrive to bring me home. We stopped along the famous Rt. 13 retail corridor to celebrate Halloween. The only better Halloween I ever had was when I was about five or six and my trick or treat candy had, among the hard candy and candy corn, a pretty good supply of Three Musketeers bars. GA Informal :::::+:::::

Post about me? What a Shock.

My wife is very skilled at using the computer. She has taken courses in the various graphic arts programs, and has a home business that creates web sites and graphic features and things like that. You are reading me on the simplest blog site there is. Because I'm cheap, and I can do pretty much nothing on the computer. Anyway, when my son was here before the fall semester started, he shot a little footage of me with mother's camera. Wife has promised me she will take the footage and build a video out of it for YouTube, or whatever. We want to use a song I recorded as the music behind the video. The song is "Someday Soon". It should have a scene of a pilot leaving home to go on a trip. It won't match the story line of the song, because the song is about a 21 year old kid in the rodeo. My son is 21, and I wanted it to be about him. But he wanted to do the behind camera. Anyway, I've seen some really cool vids lately and I can't wait to see what wife and son have come up with on this one. I can't say when it will be out. Wait. I'll go ask her right now when it will be back on the front burner, and in fact be done. OK I just asked her. She said "Someday Soon" GA Informal ::::+::::

Hell no I don't believe in your God

I've been retired from my job for 2 years now. And I still cannot properly answer the most common question I get from friends and family. Lloyd, now that you've retired, what are you going to do? This is a really loaded question. It seems simple on the surface, but it isn't. I used to try to accurately and honestly answer the question. But I can't. From now on I shall answer with this: "I don't know. What are you going to do when you retire?" Folks who have already retired don't ask this. Have you ever been asked: " Do you believe in God?" Another loaded question. When I try to answer this one I don't get very far without the asker saying something like "It's a yes or no question". At that point I say that we need to define God before I can answer yes or no. There are thousands of dead gods no one believes in any more, and opinions vary about the gods that are still around. And each person believes that the god they believe in is the God. I can guarantee that once the asker defines his God, I can safely say "no, hell no". But why go through that? The perfect answer is the one I will use for the retirement question. "I don't know". Now there is the snapshot answer about retirement. That's the "what I seem to be into right now" answer. Right now I'm into clearing brush. Mowing season is over, almost. I don't have a big farm, but I do have some woods. And some woods near the house and airstrip. Those woods can be made much nicer by clearing out the dead wood, pruning, making paths, cutting briers,etc. I have enough of this that I could do it as a hobby for the rest of my wretched life. I love doing this. But I don't want to do it all day. Or every day. Or with a deadline or schedule. Ask me tomorrow, "Lloyd, now you're retired, What are you gonna do?" I'll say, "Clear brush".

Nick Lowe NickLowe Nick Lowe I Read a Lot

I guess this is one of those times when my post is not gonna be about General Aviation. I simply have to review and debrief the concert I saw the other night in Easton. It was at the Avalon. It was kind of a last minute thing. I had heard that Bill Kirchen was to be there performing as a warm-up act for Nick Lowe. I'm a huge Kirchen fan as you guys know. We were lucky to get the last couple of tickets. My friend Clark and his wife came also. I had only just barely heard of Nick Lowe. So before the show I had Googled him up. He's an aging Geezer rocker like Kirchen. He's my age. He is from the late British Invasion era. He was in a band with Dave Edmunds called Rockpile. He writes really amazing songs. In the States he is best known for a song called "I Knew the Bride" , which was covered by everyone. Another hit was "Cruel to be Kind". But I was going to the Avalon to see Kirchen, the "second" act. So we get there and I notice on the stage while we wait for the show to start that there is Kirchen's ancient Telecaster and an amp or two and that's it. No drum set, no bass, no keyboards etc. Clark and I are thinking what the heck is this. Neither of these guys is a solo act. These are not folk singers. But I like solo guitar stuff so I'm thinking this is good. And it was good. Really good. Kirchen came out and played by himself and did all the wicked runs and licks and crazy effects that he's so respected for. My wife had never seen him before. So I was happy and knew I had gotten my money's worth. Clark and I got to talk to Kirchen during the intermission and of course we were star struck and he was nice like he always is. Then the house lights came up and down and it was time to wander back to our seats with our beverages. Nick Lowe came out and just started playing and singing. He was solo. He had a head of silver hair, not too long. He had a voice of pure gold, like Nat King Cole. He had phrasing and timing like Sinatra. He had choppy, hooky, lyrics like Zevon. He had an acoustic guitar. He played it cleanly with 40 years of rhythm built in. I had a wonderful time being out of myself for about an hour and was a new forever fan of Nick Lowe. Damn he was good. I got double my money's worth. Can I pick em or what? Toward the end of his set he sang "Cruel to be Kind" and it brought the house down. With the audience in the palm of his hand he segued into "I Knew the Bride" and Bill Kirchen snuck out on the stage behind him and picked up his Telecaster and we got to see the two old pros who had toured together so well and so often. So now every night I pull up my YouTube channel. I have favorited about a dozen Nick Lowe songs. But my favorite of those is a tune about a guy who has lost his love somehow and is bewailing his fate. "I read a lot, not just magazines. Blue doesn't describe it somehow. You'll find me in a world of fantasy, population one, that's me. If you ask me how I stop, contemplating what I now have not....... I'll reply... I read a lot"

She's Now a Blonde.

Last Wednesday the weather was pristine. I wanted to fly my M-10 to Cambridge for fun and to gas up and to try out the new battery I had just put in the night before. It was a pain in the butt putting the battery in. You have to take out the pilot's seat. Then unscrew two floor boards. Then remove the battery hold down assembly. Then remove the terminal contacts. Then yank the battery. Then put the new one in and put it all back together. I paid a little more when I ordered the battery to get a sealed unit. I hate adding acid. I would have spilled it. I'm a lousy mechanic. In fact, I dropped a bolt into the wing when it slipped out of my fingers. I was very lucky and able to find and recover that bolt. I always do something clumsy like that. I'm really good at some certain mechanic type stuff though. For instance, I get the oldies station playing loud in the hangar. I cuss at everything. I have a really nice lunch, no matter how involved I get in the project. I don't let not having the proper tool get in the way of doing the job. Also, I lay out all the parts and tools and stuff, then goof off for a while and my wife and others can see from the hangar how hard I am working and how important my project is. I employ alchohol, tobacco and firearms for the project too. And I know in advance the project is going to be harder than I think. I try not to actually use a wrench or screw driver because I round off nuts and screw heads. I had a mechanic tell me I could help once on an annual. My job was simple. Go to town and get sandwiches and sodas. So I did that and asked him what I could do next. He said nothing right now but later on you could go to town and get coffee. Well anyway I had the new battery and I flew to Cambridge for fuel and it was a great flight. I had coffee there and ran into an RV-8 guy. I had seen him at both Essex and Bay Bridge and his aircraft is a prize winner. I flew home and had another nice 12 mile flight. I got out the mower and started quickly mowing because my buddy Clark was supposed to fly in. I was mowing the centerline in case he came in sooner rather than later. I was almost done when I looked up and saw the RV-8. It was coming in on final for my east runway. I pulled the mower off to the side. The RV gave me a low pass that made my day. He came across fast and flat and low and turned on the smoke system the whole length. He zoomed out and set up a 180 to come back in to 27. I move the mower down the runway to a turn off. He lands the the beautiful 8 like a feather. Then I see Clark on base in a Warrior. I have two planes land in a span of two minutes. After having no planes visit in weeks. After a short visit Clark left and we watched. When the RV left, wife came out to watch with me at the wind sock. The RV launched and flattened out and gave us a nice pullup/smoke/chandelle. Thanks you guys for comin' in. ::::+:::: PS ...... while I went to CGE, wife went to hairdresser. She's now a blonde. GA Informal.

Hemingway's

Essex Skypark was so nice that I decided to go out in the M-10 on the next Saturday. That was last weekend. I went to Bay Bridge, known as w29. It was a gathering for some young eagle rides and a few seminars and the grand opening of a new hangar. I have been "propping" the M-10 since Horn Point, which is really no problem. My friend Pablo met me at w29 and we hung out and told stories of our glory days while we watched a wonderful new generation of pilots do their thing with Light Sport Airplanes. In fact, the operation at W29 with their new hangar is now the largest LSA dealer and flyer in the US. Someone was explaining to me how a Tacnam Siera could go 115 knots on 5 GPH and my mind started to wander. I was looking across the field at "Hemingway's" which is a touristy restaurant that overlooks the bay. It's all different now. Built up. New roads and buildings. I was remembering when I was a college kid, and found ways to get to fly airplanes. And tried to find ways to impress girls. Taking a girl for an airplane ride to Hemingways was a guaranteed great date. When I first started doing this, it was with Brinkerhoff's Colt. Later it was his 172. Then when I first started instructing, I would use the trainers after hours. Later when I instructed out at Cumberland, I'd borrow an airplane from there. After that it was in my own airplane. My first plane was a 7eca citabria. It would do the Bay Bridge run well. But for "dates" you want side by side seating. In the early eighties I had this Warrior II. One day my friend "Billy", who was kind of a scoundrel and a ne'er- do- well was going to go flying with me. I "owed" him a flight for doing work on my little condo. Actually I owed him nothing because he had been using my car while i was gone on trips, and using the condo while he was "working" on it. He was taking his redneck bar girls up there all the time. Anyway I had this part time redheaded girlfriend and I was taking her to Hemingways and Billy was tagging along. We took off from Suburban and Billy was in the right seat and the redhead was in the back. After we got going I showed Billy how to fly the plane for about one minute. Then I climbed in the back with the redhead and let Billy play pilot. I guess that was pretty dumb and illegal. At one point, as he adjusted the throttle and turned a little more toward the bay bridge, he said over his shoulder "it's pretty much like drivin' a boat isn't it"? I said "yeah" and continued cuddling with the girl. Later at the restaurant, Billy was getting loud and obnoxious as he often did with a few drinks in him. People were starting to stare. One guy got up and came over to Billy and said "How do you keep an asshole in suspense?" Without hesitation, Billy stole the punchline and said, "I'll tell you tomorrow". This particular flight to Bay Bridge did not yield me the after dinner one- on- one result I had been hoping for. But it wasn't the last flight I made to W29. There were many more to come all the way up to the present day. My wife refuses to fly in to Hemingways with me because it's where I took "all those girls". But she likes Bay Bridge and we've flown in there to eat at Kent Manor Inn, and also the Gourmet Gas Station. A few years back we drove to Hemingways, but there was a one hour wait and we went to a place called Annies instead. So wife has still never been to Hemingway's. GA Informal ::::+::::

Air Fair 100

I guess it's time for me to write a debrief/review of the College Park Air Fair 100. I've said it before- this blog always comes back to my old neighborhood. College Park Airport. I've been putting this off, because there is so much to say, and yet there is nothing I can say. Air Fair 100 was about a month ago. It celebrated the 100 yr. anniversary of the Wright brothers teaching the US Army to fly airplanes at College Park in 1909. I thought it would be really nice to take the M10 Cadet to College Park for this event. The Cadet ties into the ERCO story which is one of the major historical items on the long list of the College Park heritage. I contacted the people at CGS airport and inquired about flying the Cadet in. I was concerned about flying into the FRZ which is a no-fly zone in the middle of the DC SFRA. I had heard that there would be "waivers" available to get planes in and out for the event. But I never heard from the folks at CGS, and one day I just decided to forget about flying the m10 in there. I was very relieved when I made that decision. I didn't want the day to be anything about me. I wanted to just soak up some final closure emotions about the place where I learned to fly. So when that Saturday came, I drove my car to College Park. I paid $4. admission. I spent about 6 hrs. there. I spent another 3 hrs. in the town of College Park around the U of Maryland campus. Then another 3 hrs. at a friend's place in the old neighborhood debriefing. I have very mixed emotions about the whole day. In general, it was fun. An airshow. I think my biggest impression was that it was an airshow. With aerobatics and everything. At an airport that normally you can't even fly into without an act of Congress. It's not a real airport. It's owned by the government. There are curfews. There are restrictions. there are rules upon rules. there are limitations. There are violations waiting to be passed out. There are locks on all the propellers. No one is flying. No one is allowed to fly. The hangars and buildings that used to serve the airport now are for police and bureaucrats. So to see that airport having an airshow was quite a surprise. Whoever had the political clout to get that show approved by the TSA, has got some real political connections. Perhaps that person should use their power to get the rules lightened up the other 364 days of the year. If it's safe to have an airshow there on one day, why not just let general aviation have the airspace back and get rid of the stupid ADIZ. The ADIZ only stops good guys. The terrorists don't care about it. They have their own agenda and it's unlikely they will fool around with little airplanes. Another thing about the airshow that surprised me was that it was kind of "big time". The acts that were there were the national kind, not the local. It was great and I loved it, but it wasn't about College Park like I thought it would be. That kind of show could've been anywhere. This leads me into another thing that surprised me. Even though the day was supposed to celebrate the history of College Park as the nations oldest airport, there was really no mention of any of the history during the live announcements that went on all day. The museum was there and open. It was free too, with your Air Fair admission. Yet it was never mentioned on the PA. And the entrance to the museum was hidden way down at the east end and you had to walk down and find it by yourself. Early in the day, they rolled out the Wright Flyer, built by a company called "the Wright Experience". This was built for the College Park Airport museum. That roll out event was great, and the airplane is perfect. But that was the end of any mention of College Park's history. It seemed odd to me that the largest building there, the hangar, was not only off limits, but not even mentioned, noted or commemorated with a sign. That hangar building was one of the original four airmail hangars from the twenties. To the folks watching the big commercial airshow that was just a police hangar. There was no mention or commemoration or sign marker of the railroad tracks running along the west end of the runway. Where the Metro trains can now be seen. The railbed was there when the Wrights were there. The very first telegraph message went along that railbed. To the folks watching the generic airshow, it was just the Metrorail going by. There are many more examples. No mention of the first woman to be carried aloft heavier than air. First bomb drop, first radio comm from an aircraft. First guy to get killed in military airplane. Post war production of 5000 civilian nose wheel non spinable general aviation airplanes. The only attention to Airmail was a small tent where the post office would postmark for you a commemorative envelope or card. That was great. But nobody had been invited to bring in any mail planes or dress from the period. No barnstormer era planes or dress No mention of any history. I would say the Air Fair 100 event was a huge success as an airshow. You saw the show, bought a t shirt, had a burger, went home in time to watch sports on TV. The event was a dismal failure as an historical celebration. It was a great opportunity lost. Never again will it be 100 yrs. since the Wrights flew at College Park. I had fun watching the airshow. I like airshows. But when I think of the College Park Aerodrome, and the Wrights, the pioneers, the airmail pilots, the barnstormers, ERCO, Berliner, Brinkerhoff, I'm sad. It could have been about them. Their ghosts could have walked around with us. But it was instead about NCPPC showing that they know how to put on a real world class airshow. And the TSA relaxing their insane rules one day a year at their whim. GAI ::::+::::

Essex Skypark

Essex Skypark is an airport just 3 or 4 miles from Baltimore. Last year I took the M10 Cadet there to the "Wings and Wheels". I was impressed with how small it was. And how laid back. And how nice it was in general. So of course I wanted to go this year. So today, Saturday, was Essex. I had stayed up too late last night. I got a late start. I wandered out to the hangar at ten AM with my coffee. I opened the hangar doors, and sipped more coffee. I had a trickle charger on the M-10's failing battery. I took that off, and sipped more coffee. I checked the oil. More coffee. God, the little airplane was filthy. Hanger dust, bird droppings. I had no time to wash it. I cleaned the plexiglass, cause you gotta see. I loaded up some stuff: a little cooler, a tool caddy full of cleaning stuff, paper towels, and the new sectional and the new area chart. The GPS, fresh batteries for the GPS, an extra shirt, chocks, and other stuff. I rolled it out and sumped it. I was all set and climbed in, good to go. I hit the starter which is this pull knob you really have to yank. There was this pitiful, weak, movement of the prop. It went about 4 inches and couldn't overcome compression. So now I have a choice of scrubbing the event, using jumper cables, or propping it. I could go and find my wife and have her help me. This was all gonna take time. You should never prop a plane by yourself. You should never let yourself be hurried. I had no real reason to hurry. But I turned on the mags, cracked the throttle and threw a chock under the nose wheel. I swung the prop, no fire. Once again, and she fired up and ran like a dream. I couldn't pull the chock because it was stuck. The M10 has no parking brake. So I jumped back in and warmed her up and got the radios and stuff on. It took full throttle to jump that chock. Soon I was climbing northwest toward Baltimore. God, it was beautiful. The weather was perfect. From over Preston, 3 miles from my house, at eleven hundred feet I could see the Bay Bridge and downtown Baltimore. And that's a good thing too because to navigate into Essex, without talking to controllers (which I didn't want to do) you have to do it just right. There's at least 4 different airspace things going on to get into this cute little woodsy pretty airpark that is 2000 feet long. Shorter than my backyard strip. There is the dreaded DC ADIZ/SFRA. There is the BWI class B you gotta stay under. There is restricted Area 4001B which is always hot. And last but not least, Essex is in the Martin State tower's traffic area. Is that class D? So 42V and I did this little dance and had fun and talked to no one. Once at the fly in, I wandered around and looked at every car and every airplane . It was small and friendly and wonderful. Everyone was doing fly-bys. I ate a cheeseburger. I stared at a Detomaso Pantera for a long time. I chatted with these folks who had a 1957 310 which was gorgeous. They were from my home town. I had a hot dog. I chatted with the guy giving rides in the Stearman. I thought he might have a battery I could buy. I chatted with the car people and some nice locals. There were some nice folks who were kind of a blue collar crowd and some cute looking girls. Airshow babes are usually rare. I went back to my M10 on the flightline and started cleaning it up. Folks came and looked at me and 42V. And I watched every single fly-by. There was a nice fly- by done by two RV's in formation. Every takeoff and landing done by the local Stearman was a fly- by and a show in itself. The very best "fly-by" was when the Cessna 310 left. I knew he was gonna come back around. When he turned onto final his rollout was a precision snap locked to the extended centerline of the runway. His final was an energy managed descent to the deck. He went down that whole runway like he was on rails, with the prop tips close enough to the asphalt to give us all a real thrill. And fast? Oh yea. It was one of the best fly-ins I'd ever been to. When the sun started to go down, they passed out trophies and I started to look for somebody to prop me. I found a J-3 guy who was very nice. Soon I was back over the bay and leaving the mean airspace behind. I was a little low on fuel and I wanted to keep the outing going, so I stopped into Bay Bridge Airport. They have a self serve fuel set-up. I ran into a friend or two. I bought coffee at the gourmet gas station. (Yes, there is a gourmet gas station there.) Then my friend propped me and I was off for home. Couldn't be prettier. I turned off the radio and the GPS and just went from cow pasture to toolshed. Then I beat up Eric's place and my place. It was such a good day, I had to tell you about it. Even though the M10's airspeed didn't work and the cig lighter CB was popped and of course no battery, she performed like a charm. Whoever gets her for the 24K I am asking is gonna have one heck of a nice little classic. Oh, and the sunset I watched with wife was spectacular. Maybe I'll go to Campell Soup tomorrow! Or wait till I get a new battery............. GA Informal.

I Mow Every Day

Just before Oshkosh (which I did not attend) we had a Fly-in here at the house. It was a great success. We had seven planes here, not counting my two. We had Bison Burgers on the grill. Corn on the cob. Chili. We had a reunion of seven guys from the Cumberland Airlines days of the mid seventies. BD in the Stearman gave rides. Chris in the Sky Arrow did too. I flew both of my planes. I could write a pretty long post about the Fly-in, maybe some other time. About a week ago we had another party. It wasn't a fly-in. My son had some friends over for swimming and a campfire. My son turned 21 in July. One of my favorite songs of all time is a country song called "Someday Soon". It was on the charts in the sixties, by Judy Collins. Then a nice cover was done in the eighties by Suzi Bogguss. Whenever I'm in a karaoke place (rare) I sing this. It was written by an old folksinger/cowboy named Ian Tyson. Anyway, the first line of the song is "There's a young man that I know, just turned twenty one". Now I want to re-write that song, or at least make a music video, in honor of my son turning twenty one. Back to this party. My son at one point said to me "Hey dad, want a beer?". That little statement crossed me into the next phase of my life. Some things happened around the time of the party. One thing was that my son had a nice big fancy lunch with his mom and I. He regaled us with stories of Hollywood. I had a chance to ask him if he would mind it if his mom and dad downsized to North Carolina or Tennessee. His answer was positive and a little surprising. Another thing that happened was a friend of mine lost his wife in a medical emergency. She was 49 and they had been married 31 years. His best friend "Wayne" is a friend of mine. I saw a nice side of Wayne as he stuck by his friend in a time of crisis. My new respect for Wayne was kind of ruined because we had a spat the day after the little party. I had the spat. He didn't even know why I was frustrated! The fact that he doesn't know how rude he was to me doesn't bode well for our long term friendship. However, the best friend I ever had was a guy who could really piss me off! I used to get really mad at him about every six months. We would have to take a break from each other. I think I must really love Wayne or he wouldn't be able to rile me up so. I guess I'm on a break from Wayne. Another thing that happened was that I tried to mow my entire farm. I could not get it done. I had it done for the fly-in, but I just couldn't get it all for the little party. This is absolutely my favorite time of the year. I love late summer. It's been so beautiful here. Dog days hot during the day. Getting dark a little earlier and cooler. The pool is 85 degrees with no solar blanket. I swim every day. I mow every day, but just for a while. Little showers have prevented dry fields and our bean crop looks great. My son Matt shot video of me for a music video. I wanted to have him in the video, but he refused on-camera work. He had some great ideas and we had great fun. I'm so happy. I have everything I want. You want to know what my only problems are? No? I'm going to tell you anyway. First problem: I probably have some terminal disease like cancer or worse, yet to be diagnosed. Second: we don't have enough money to keep going like we are and it looks like a downsize will be coming in a year or three. When I think about a move to Carolina or Tennessee further from friends and family and into a simpler life, will I miss our farm on the east coast of Maryland? The answer: I can't think of a better thing then being isolated somewhere in a small dwelling with my wife. I'm happy now and I'll be happy then. Because she's my best friend and to me the most enticing and exciting woman in the world. I dedicate this post to my friend GK as he has lost his wife. Take it one day at a time Gerald.

Rained out

I don't have an article in mind to present to you, my few and faithful readers. It's been so long since I've posted to you. Writers block? Blogger's block. I think laziness is a key factor here. Actually, for a retired guy, Ive been pretty busy. I have a big backlog on my "to do" list. It kind of stresses me in a way. I think rather than working harder, perhaps I can just shorten the "to do" list by crossing a few things off. Today, Saturday was to be the Crisfield fly in. A nice Eastern Shore Crab feast. This is so right up my alley. 40nm south of me. Small. Down home. I didn't have it on my calender at all. But a week or two ago my friend Ted e-mailed me about it and said he would be going weather permitting. Ted is a great guy. He really got started in flying just a few years ago. He lives in range of his local airport and just kept seeing the planes drifting around. So he kind of finds himself out at the airport. He hears himself scheduling a lesson. You, my friends, know the rest. After he has his license (wait pilots don't get licenses, they get certificates), after he has his license, he rents the planes there and takes some rides and some little trips. He realizes he wants to go when he wants to go. And he want to come back when he wants to come back. You see where he's going next. The airplane he bought is quite nice. A very clean Cardinal, low time, cream puff. He tweaked the avionics. That wasn't enough. He had a brand new paint job put on her. I know he's very conscientious. And has managed and set up his aircraft the way he wants. With an eye for safety and eliminating unknowns that looks professional. Someday I'll get a ride in that Cardinal and I'll give Ted some "dual" so I can log it along with him! One more thing about Ted. His local airport is in the Washington ADIZ/SFRA. From day one he's filed an IFR style flight plan for every flight. In and out. He's known it no other way. Anyway, back to Crisfield. So Ted is going. So I decide to go. I want to see Ted and he will have his lovely friend Roxie with him. Otherwise known as "the blonde". I shall write a post or two about her someday. If the statute of limitations has passed on our adventures! So I get on the e mail and two other friends like the Crisfield idea. It is very appealing in it's smallness. Maybe I'm just a grumpy old man, but I'm tired of Oshkosh and Lakeland. And my mind is working at 90 knots. Not Southwest or Northwest. Clark wants to go and has lined up one of the school's planes and his girlfriend, and gotten the day off. Also Steve. He was set up to come down from Fredneck er Fredrock er Frederick. So I guess we had a fly-out of four planes set to go to this little Crab fly-in. Alas we woke this morning, and it was raining on the Western Shore and headed this way. We scrubbed the deal. I must not have writers block if I can do a whole post about a fly-in that didn't happen. This month of June it has rained every day here except June 1. My strip is a little soft but still doing fairly well. I just want a dry- out for my little fly- in on July 25th. The record for planes on the ground in my back yard is six. I expect to beat that. And we're celebrating benchmark birthdays. My son- 21. Myself- 60.

Livingston Taylor Livingston Taylor

The other night wife and I went to live entertainment at the Avalon Theater in Easton. The week before it was a live show in Annapolis. I know it's not Broadway, but for us, it's bright lights, big city. It seems like my interest in singer-songwriter music keeps creeping into my aviation blog. And now it's happening again. At the Avalon we saw Livingston Taylor. He puts on such a warm and personal and funny show. I was blown away and forever impressed. The Avalon has a beautiful grand piano and excellent acoustics. What the hell does this have to do with aviation? You ask. At the end of the first set, Livingston was at the piano and he sang a song about the Wright Brothers. He mentioned that he loves flying and has a "rattley old airplane". He sang about Alaska too. Wife and I were spellbound. Usually I hang around for "meet and greet" after a show like this, especially when it's someone kind and accessible like Livingston. My man-cave is full of autographs. But we couldn't stay. It was the night I had to take son to BWI for the oh dark thirty flight. But I briefly saw Livingston during the intermission and interrupted him from a CD signing and asked him quickly what kind of plane he had. He said a 205 Cessna. I asked if that was like a 206 and he explained that it was the ancestor of the 210 series with a fixed gear. I quickly went back to my seat feeling a little bit guilty about butting in a line of folks who wanted to meet our one- man- show star. My wife asked where I had been during the intermission. I answered cavalierly, "Oh I was talking to Liv". Yesterday I cruised around the web and learned a lot about my new idol. He's about my age. His dad was a dean of a North Carolina Medical School. His mom is an artist who is still living at 86 yrs. old. All of the five kids had singing careers with recording contracts. The oldest Alex, has passed away. Livingston's brother "James" is a huge star of 40 years. The same night we saw Livingston, James was performing for Jay Leno's last Tonite Show. Today I went out to the hangar and looked through a box of old "AOPA Pilot" magazines. I found Livingston on the last page of the December 2006 issue. Now he's really my idol. Do you save those magazines? God I'm a pack rat. GA Informal.

Spring Classic.

June 1st.. Sure is a pretty day. My neighbor who farms tells me that this spring has been unseasonably cool and wet. His melons have had a false start. He will cut my hay this week. I can't cut the airstrip often enough. As I write this my buddy Russell is shooting some landings in a Cher Oh Kee. They taxi in and shut down and we chat for a while. I love the plane they are in. It's a 180. The last year of the hershey bar wing. 1975 I believe. So it's got the big interior, the console throttle and switches etc. This one has a wing leveler. Leather. Strobes. A 430. A Gizmo 396 to go with it. To me, this is the perfect GA aircraft. And here it was on my turf. I invited it to my fly-in on July 25. Hope to see it and you there. GA Informal.

I'm booked

It's funny. Over the winter, being retired, it seemed weeks would go by without much happening. Going grocery shopping was a big event. I'm not complaining. I like doing nothing. Now the fly-in season is here. And work on the farm and house. And mowing the airstrip and yard. Fly-ins. I hear the term "fly-out" more and more now. A group from an airport will fly several planes out together for a breakfast or something. My summer schedule is filling up fast. Every single weekend thru August has an event I'm going to attend. I'm already double- booked for June 27. And on July 25th I'm having a fly-in here at my place. I 'll need to do some cleaning up for that event. I have a kitchen project to do which involves taking down a wall. My buddy's teenage son is going to visit from Europe for some flying lessons. I have to renew my airman medical and my CFI. I think I'm going to put a halt to any more plans for this summer. I want to have some "dog days". When I can just chill in an air conditioned room and read a novel. Actually I've already put on the brakes. Friday night I went to live theater with wife. 3AM Saturday morning took son to BWI airport for his flight. It turned out I'm too old for all- nighters. So I blew off taking the M10 to W29 for Wings and Wheels. Today I blew off the SFQ Virginia Regional Fly-in. I bet it was great. So I was hanging out and mowing today. The proffesor flew in with a friend. So wife and I rolled out the M10 and we took 2 planes to GED for a late lunch. It was a "Fly-out".

seems it never rains in southern california

I feel like talking about guitar and You Tube and music and the Muse. So let me just mention aviation. The weather has been excellent for an entire week since Horn Point. Sunny, not hot. I just left the Cher OH Kee out, ready. I did two missions with it. Clark and his girlfriend flew the Pa 12 back to Bay Bridge. I flew the Cher OH Kee to Bay Bridge and picked them up. Brought them back here to their car. Then wife and I got in her sports car (the Corolla was in Carolina). We went to Annapolis on a date. Saw Billy Kemp at "The Ram's Head". I got a great autograph for the man-cave. We hardly ever get to go to the "big city" anymore. I'm not complaining. Then on Thursday wife and I flew to Georgetown, DE. Dinner at the airport restaurant, which was excellent. Plane did great, weather great. And two dates with wife in three days. Oh and yesterday we went to a wedding. Was that a date? Next flying event will be taking the m10 to CGE for fuel, perhaps a meal there too. Then the m10 to Bay Bridge for Wings and Wheels on Saturday 30th. Now the music thoughts. Sometime about a year ago while puttering in the hangar I heard an oldie on the radio. It was "morning girl". I suddenly was back in the late sixties early seventies. I suddenly had a favorite song. I hadn't had a favorite song in a long time. And this wasn't the "kind" of song I usually like. So I got on the web and learned a lot about a group called "Neon Philharmonic". And a dude named Tupper Saussy. I got on the web again and ordered 2 vinyl records. I asked my brother to arrange the song for guitar. He wasn't familiar with the song. I sent him the 45 rpm record. He sent me the lyrics with cords and other notes and suggestions. And I fiddled with it a bit, but I couldn't do it. But for a couple months I would listen to the origional version on YouTube. Every night. Over and over. My wife and I never talked about it much. One day I said "Honey, what song do I listen to every night?" She said "Morning Girl". "And who wrote Morning Girl?" I asked. She said, "Tupper Saussy." "And do you like the song"? I ask. "It's OK" she says. Eventually I got a chance to put the song up on YouTube with me singing and my brother playing guitar. It's pretty rough. But I think I got it out of my system. My son is home from college. But only for one week. Then he's off to L.A. for an internship in the business of Hollywood. Tonight before writing to you I was back on the web researching another song. It describes my son's situation. "Got on board a westbound seven forty seven. Didn't think before deciding what to do. All that talk, opportunity. TV breaks and movies. Rang true. Sure rang true. It never rains in California. Girl, don't they warn ya. It pours, man it pours." I've got a new favorite song.

some days are diamonds

I've always embraced the concept of "turn key" flying. Walk out to a plane and go like you do with your car every day. No matter what you think you see, or hear about, nobody in general aviation has this. Even if you were stinkin rich and had a slave do your pre flight for you and roll out the plane and warm it up etc. You still gotta do your own pre flight. You gotta do yor own flight planning etc. Load your plane with what you want in it. Actually, I like doing the planning and the prep and anticipating. I vow this year to wash and wax the M-10 the night before every fly-in. Because I like to. But I am also lazy. My fantasy is to be able to walk out to the plane and go. Now let me talk about sailplanes. There is not even a turn key fantasy about this. Sailplanes need support to fly. You gotta have friends, or people you are paying, to tow you up. To put together the sailplane. To get it out to the runway. To help you get ready to launch and check your controls and canopy. To hook up the tow rope. To run the wing. Most glider clubs require each member to put in a certain number of hours each month doing these support jobs. This support work is fun and you learn a lot, and it's part of being a glider pilot. I'm all for it. I need it. But I am also lazy. And I hate clubs that require you to do something. When I wanted to learn to fly a glider some years back I checked out some clubs. I wanted to talk about "lessons". They talked about my "joining" and my obligations and all their rules. I found out clubs are for folks who own gliders and are in a "clique". So I went to a commercial school and learned enough to solo a Grob 103. The school welcomed me into soaring even though I didn't know anybody or anything. Now I'm fortunate to be able to rent a glider from a guy up in Smyrna. No club, no obligations, no scheduling, no meetings. Just flyin'. When I retired, my friend Geoff asked me what a "perfect day" for me might be like. This is a question of knowing what you like. And be careful what you wish for. If you had an extra million bucks, what would you do. There are different levels at which you can answer these questions. Health and wellness are at the top level. I've already had my share of perfect days. Many of them had to do with flying. Times spent with my wife who is my best friend are at the top of the list. Now back to "turn key". About a year ago on a Sunday I looked at the sky. By the way, once you fly sailplanes, you'll never look at the sky without thinking about soaring. A big cold front had come through. The sky was blue in a big Atlantic high. There were these scattered bubbly cues that were hard white. What wind there was, came from the west. There's a lot of smart glider guys who can tell you about "thermal index", "polar curves", "speed rings" etc. I don't know this stuff. But I know a damn good day for lift when I see one. I called the guy in Smyrna. On his cell. He was in the towplane and couldn't talk. That answered my question. So I rolled out and ramped up the M-10 I wandered around the house and hangar and located sunglasses, reading glasses, water bottle, checkbook, sun block, ball cap, tilly hat, kerchief, handheld radio. This was not turn key. I fly the 50 nm up to Smyrna. I can feel the jolts and bumps from the thermals. I start shouting to myself "oh yea". I circle Smyna. I see the tow plane and the 2 seat glider there on the ground. I hope the gliders are not already spoken for. I land and taxi over to the small group of about 5 guys. "Hey Lloyd, you're late. The lift is past peak. You wanna fly the 222?" I say sure but where is the 1-26. They point and there it is on base leg and I can have it if I want it. Very next tow. So get ready. I practically got out of the m-10 and climbed right into the single seat glider. No preflight. I'm strapping in and they're hooking up the rope and securing my canopy. I'm trying to do a mental checklist: shoulder harness, spoilers, trim, release tug and test, air vent closed, controls. They say Dan's gonna put me in the thermals west of the field around 2500'. Check the pattern. They get my thumbs up. They lift the wing. I wiggle that rudder and we're away. I don't think I'd been on the ground at Smyrna 5 minutes. True to the day's promise I got off tow at 2000, no sense towing any higher. I played around and got higher and cooler and what a flight and what a day. After I came back they turned the 1-26 around for the next lucky guy. I signed a blank check and handed it to Dan. I asked if they needed help for putting stuff away later. They said it was covered. I said thanks and jumped in the M-10. I know I had a lovely flight home with the canopy open. I know I flew right over Ridgely where they were flying the ultra light kite gliders. I know I landed at my place in time to enjoy the rest of the daylight and the sunset. But what I truly remember was a sailplane flight. A flight where I didn't get the glider out, or put it away. Or walk a wing. Or mess with ropes. Or gas up a tow plane. Or even drive a car to the airport. I may be a beginner in sailplanes. But I had a "turn key" flight. GA Informal.

Horn Point Revisited 2009

It's late Sunday night. The house is quiet. The two dogs who hang with me are sleeping nearby as I type. It is time for the Horn Point debrief. The weather is always a challenge on Horn Point weekend. This year was no different. A few events compete with Horn Point on the third Saturday in May: Andrews AFB Open House, the Preakness at Pimlico, Hot Rod Weekend in O.C., Md., the Yaks at ESN, the Blues Festival at Annapolis, and lots of other events. The weather Saturday morning here on the shore was not promising. I did a damn thorough pre-flight on the M10 Cadet. We got all buttoned in to go.... but the battery was dead. My friend Eric was with me and he held on the brakes and I propped her and she fired and ran on the first pull. So we head on over to Horn Point. The ceiling was about 1100 feet. So the turnout was pretty small. But we had a nice fly-in. My friend BD was there with his beautiful Stearman. My friend Clark came in with a PA-12. They both had thier girlfriends with, which was nice. My friend Paul flew my Cher OH Kee in and he did a nice job with a fly by. I saw lots of old friends. The sky cleared for mid day. The grand prize went to an ancient Waco that was so nicely restored it would bring tears to your eyes. Another prize winner was a lovely Fleet biplane that made you think you were in a time warp or a Richard Bach novel. There was a rare Great Lakes, and it's J-3 partner, an incredible classic early Bonanza, and a Cessna T-50 which we look forward to every year and who stops the show when he takes off with the twin radials. Two impeccable L-16's. The comradeship was great. This club is a core of great guys who have lost many members simply to old age. They are surviving as a club by passing the torch along, but it's tough because of general aviation's decline. I could write a dozen posts to tell about Horn Point Airfield, and the club that shows up there once a year for their fly-in. The thing that touched me the most was after the awards presentations. There were only twenty or thirty of us left there. The grand prize winner was asked to fly his plane for us. He simply walked out to the Waco and took it out and up. An historic airplane on an historic airfield. He flew it around over our heads and we watched like townies watch a barnstormer. We shot the breeze and they had broken out the beer. The guy lands and taxis the Waco right up to our small group and shuts down. He gets out and walks over to us and we're speechless. Then we all just start clapping. GA Informal.

One Double A

About a week ago I flew the Cher OH kee down to Carolina to pick up my son and his girlfriend. And to bring them back to our farm. The weather was marginal VFR so I filed both ways. As soon as I got going, I discovered my Garmen portable GPS was out of power. Batteries dead. But it was plugged into the airplane's cigar lighter. I pulled out the plug and it was broken. I didn't have any spare batteries. At the FBO in Carolina, they had no batteries. Except the guy had a single double A just lying on the desk which he gave me. After we got up and going home I was trying to find the 30 knot tailwind that wasn't there. My son asked me for the single double A and the dead GPS. He pulled out the 4 double A's and started doing wierd things like rubbing them on his jeans and in his hands. then he put in the one "new used" one with the dead ones. He kind of spun the batteries around in their sockets before he put the little cover plate back on. The GPS worked perfectly all the way home for two hours.

Old CFI's like me need to relearn basics

I was preparing for a little talk to some little kids about airplanes. I was to wear my old airline pilot uniform. I got a haircut. These are grade school kids. I had a handout for them made by my friend Clark who is a CFI and a very talented artist. The handout was a paper airplane ready to fold. I was thinking of adding some basic aerodynamics to the talk. I scanned the web to see what I could find that might tell "plainly" how an airplane flies. It was then that I discovered that the old "how an airplane flies" is not taught anymore. It hasn't been "fact" for a decade or so. All my life I have been trained over and over about the low pressure on top of the wing "pulling" the airplane up. Remember the molecules of air that part at the leading edge and meet together at the trailing edge? And they must travel at the same speed, and the one on top has further to travel and creates the low pressure. This never made sense to me. But I believed it because I wanted desperately to fly and I didn't understand physics anyway. Now this theory of flight has been shown to be utter nonsense. I'm so relieved. From now on when I talk to a student pilot or a kid who wants to know about planes, I can just tell them in common sense terms how the airplane flies. Things like "the plane 'planes' along in the air like a boat 'planes' on the water. That's why it's called a 'plane." gen. av. informal

a great day

I finally got out the Cher-OH-kee. Wayne and I flew to Campbell and back. It was a huge turnout. I believe it will be the most planes ever so far for the Campbell Soup on Sunday. We saw folks leaving when we arrived. And they kept on coming. We ate hot dogs and chili. It was mostly Pipers and Cessnas. And about 5 or 6 RV's. A Super Viking. An original looking Arrow. A Comanchee. A real pretty Beach Sierra, and a perfect Muskateer. We didn't hang out too long. Had a nice ride back. I got into doing some of my overdue chores. Then I started clearing some brush out back. My wife did some mowing. We're enjoying being outside. I worked real hard till dark. Then I came in and here I am writing to you. But that's all I got. G.A. Inf.

boss the plane!

Did you folks see the new "Aerocar"? It flew for the first time the other day. I got a e mail from Av Web about it. And one from AOPA on line. And one or three forwards from friends. It's called the tierra firma, or tiera fuego, or tierantula or something. It is the first true air car because the wings aren't trailered. The wings fold up into three pieces per side and everything stays on the car. Then you can drive on four wheels. When you fly you don't use the steering wheel. A stick pops up from the floor! With all the new innovation going on with composites and light sport and ultra light, maybe the Aerocar can finally happen. I've been hearing about an airplane in every driveway since I was in grade school. I love the idea as an engineering challenge. I have mixed emotions about the rest of the idea. Remember that car from the sixties that was also a boat? It really worked and it was really cool. And now they're a collector's item. Remember what everyone said about them? They were neither a good car nor a good boat. See where I'm goin here? Did you see the video of the new air car? It rolled for five thousand feet before it took off. Then it flew along in ground effect for a long time. Good news: it flew! Bad news: back to the drawing board. Gen. Av. Informal.

it's always about me

I always do everything in spurts. When I'm active and doing, I feel like doing everything I like. If I feel like flying, I also feel like writing here. Or talking to friends. Or playing guitar. When I'm not active, well I guess I don't feel like doing anything but eating, and perhaps watching TV. Why is it that when I'm down I want to eat? Anyway, I climbed out of the walls I'd built around myself to spend the weekend in Frederick. I call it Fredrock, or Fredneck. I was visiting my mentors, the VanKirk brothers. See the post about Malcolm. We moved an Aeronca Champ in pieces from their barn to the airport. We worked on their hangers. We worked in their storage sheds. We watched helicopters fly. And gliders. And Gyroplanes. We played with Steve's 1970 Bonneville street rod. When evening came on Saturday we had a nice long jam session in the hanger. We had drums, amps, bass, dobro, keyboards, guitars. Beer, Cokes. Video cam. Then on Sunday, another day at the Frederick airport. And a two and a half hour drive home. And my weekend was over. Now I'm back in my cocoon. Now the list of things to do to spool up the farm for spring grows longer each day. I do almost nothing. I'm back in hiding and I don't have to be sociable. Maybe by the weekend I'll come out and play again. I worked pretty hard before and I earned this nervous breakdown. I'm gonna continue to enjoy it. If I'm writing to you, I must be getting better. I'm going to get my guitar. I will try to find a pick. I will play and sing. But only prairie songs. Then we'll see about those chores. Gen Av Informal.

Shelley Fabares

Have you ever heard of a Fantasy Camp? It's when you pay some folks a whole bunch of money to be a real pro at doing something that you love. Except you are an amateur. I think the classic example is the race car driver thing. They give you ground school. Suit you up. Put you in a real car on a real track. I have to admit that that would be a gas. "Is that your crash helmet"? "Oh I hope not". Then of course aviation wise, you can pay to be in a dog fight world war two style. Sort of. I have a buddy who used to work doing that. You have two piston powered T-34's. Each plane has a pilot and a customer. They dog fight and the customer gets some training and they stage a dog fight. Unfortunately, they tore the wings off of a few T-34's and the FAA grounded those operations. My buddy in the business told me it was no fault of the venerable T-34 Mentor. Maybe the classic is the baseball fantasy camp. You get to play with the old retired players who are quite famous. Actually, every tandem parachute jump is a mini Fantasy Camp. After all, you're jumping just like a pro on your first and only jump. Long free- fall and everything. I had a kind of home-made Fantasy Camp experience. It was maybe three or four years ago. A pretty autumn day. There was this music concert being held at a private farm. The band was one of the best groups in the Baltimore-DC area. It was actually a combination of two bands that were combining for a tour through Tennessee and Texas. They were raising money for that tour. The price at the "gate" was whatever you wanted to contribute. Minimum $5. This was a wonderful party. Anyway, my friend Clark and myself were definitely going. And inspired by the "contribution" aspect I was hatching a plan. As Clark and I drove from the shore to Western Maryland I insisted that we play the Bob Dylan song "Love Minus Zero" over and over and nothing else. Clark thought it strange that I had my harmonica rack and one harmonica in my hand the whole time. He kept asking me what was going on but I wouldn't tell him, because maybe nothing was going on. We get to the concert. The opening band is playing and they are wonderful. My good friend Malcolm is there and he knows the guys in the featured band. I know one of the guys "Billy" who is kind of famous. I tell Malcolm I have a crazy idea. I'll pay $100 at the gate if they will let me be front man and sing a song with them. They want to raise money right? Malcolm says "wait here". I go and get a beer, and they havn't said yes yet and I'm nervous as hell. Then "Billy" Kemp himself appears. "Lloyd, what's this all about? You wanna do a song for $100." I say "Yes, and I want you to hand me your Martin D-45 in regular tuning so I can just play at the front mike and be all set up. I know nothing about stage equipment. Also, I have no rhythm, so the band will have to follow me." He says "What song?". I knew he was game. So I got to play with some really great pros. I did my harmonica break, they did a lead break, and I got to play Billy's guitar. On a real stage. Here I thought I had invented the folksinger fantasy camp. But no. It turns out the "Kingston Trio" were going around with two of the original players. The other guy had died. So they were selling a Fantasy slot and the buyer could be the third guy in the trio for a once in a lifetime song. I saw it on YouTube. If I never do anything more as a folk singer, I'm happy. I had my Fantasy Camp. Gen. Av. Informal.

March Madness

Sunday before last it snowed nine inches here at my place. The last gasps of winter. We had no snow up to that point, except a few dustings that didn't stick. So it snowed for a day. And there was a deep freeze. Three days in a row below 15 deg. The day I want to tell you about was Thursday March 5. This is the day that it went from a real Winter to a real Spring in about nine hours. I had been watching the forecast so I knew what was coming. I got up at 4:30 AM. I was too excited to sleep. It was going to go from a dark 12 degrees to a sunny over 60 thru the course of the day. I made some coffee. I tuned in the weather channel on the little kitchen TV. I checked the faucets and the pipes were not frozen. I had left the water on and a radiator below the sink. The downstairs was pretty cold and I fired up more portable heat. As I had a bite to eat I searched out the window for a glow of dawn. There was a kind of false glow. I got my boots on and wandered out to the deck, then out to the back yard. The snow was squeaky. It was a cold winter morning. Yes there was now a sort of light in the east. I went back in the house. I got on gloves and hat and parka. Jake, my dog had appeared. He and I went out to play in the snow. We walked out to the hangar. The wind sock. The picnic table. I started up the Jeep. Jake jumped in the back of the Jeep. He thought we were going for a ride. We were, but only a few hundred feet. I pointed the Jeep east and parked with the heat on and my coffee still hot. We watched a beautiful sunrise. According to my thermometer outside the hangar it was 9 degrees. A few cars were starting to appear on the county road out front. So I guessed it was OK for me to drive around without waking anyone up. So Jake and I started driving up and down the airstrip. We were beating down the snow and checking the runway. The radio in the Jeep doesn't work, but the old cassette does. But there is only one tape. The Beau Brummels. I love the song "Laugh Laugh". Remember? We go back to the hangar and park. The dogs are all out now running around barking. So wife is up. Is it getting warmer already? We wander back to the house. The professor is up too and he's making breakfast. He's always making a meal. He has been living here about two weeks or so. His plane is snowed in here and he's been commuting with the Jeep and a rental car when he can't fly to work. Yes he flies to work. And lives in our man-cave in the back of the hangar. Q. What do you call a Profesor who has broken up with his girlfriend? A. Homeless. (and car-less). But it's been nice having him here because he's the cook and does the shopping and buys the food. And he's entertaining. And I call him "Dupree" and he hates that. I tell him that now is the time to fly the plane out. It's gonna get sloppy after 60 degrees today. But he has the rental car and things to do in Bmore and DC and he will drive the ninety miles one way. After a fine breakfast he dons his corduroy sport jacket. He packs up his book bag with his manuscripts and notes. His tobacco. His brown bag lunch is raw vegetables. His laptop. His wool muffler. He will forget his phone charger, as usual. He'll be back tonight with groceries. And if we're not too tired we'll have a campfire. I'm already tired. While wife hangs out in the barn with her horse, I fall asleep in front of the computer. At noon I'm out shoveling the wet snow away from the hangar doors. It's bright and sunny and 45 degrees! I'm thinking I'll get the Cher OH Kee out and try to taxi out on the snow and go flying in this bright snow-sunshine. I call up Eric. He is my neighbor who has llamas. And sheep. And cows. I owe him a flight or two in return for labor. He rebuilt my garage roof. But the real reason I call him is I want him to take video with my camera of me. So he says he'll be over soon. So I get the hangar doors open and get the airplane rolled out. I do a few little chores for wife in the barn and house. I want to get in good with her because I need a favor. Eric shows. And we give him two fresh bales of hay in return for the video I want him to shoot. Then we get the airplane all pre-flighted and it starts up nice. It ought to. It's 50 degrees! We taxi out. It's getting sloppy. Stretches of bare grass. Slush. Packed snow. Turn around at the end and take it rolling. I try every trick in the book, and a few that aint in the book, to unstick her. But halfway down she still isn't flying. So I abort and take her back in and put her away. Then we start on the video. It's a music video. So we just shoot tape of me walking around in a cowboy hat, trying to look cool. But I'm 59 years old, so how cool can I look? Now it's 60 degrees! Eric goes home with his hay to his llamas. The sun is starting to set and its now getting cooler again. I go in and see wife in her office. I give her my audio CD. And I give her the nine minutes of raw footage of me in the snow with the cowboy hat. I tell her what I want. I expect her to edit it. Create it. Capture it. Encode it. Upload it. Download it. Etc. And I want it ASAP of course. She says, "A few days". Now the sun is setting. Jake and I are back in the Jeep. This time facing west. I'm having a nice bottle of Sam Adams. It's the most beautiful sunset ever. I can see the professor's rental car a half mil e down the road approaching. We walk to the house to meet him. He has groceries. He has wine. Jake and I go back to the sunset. I have another beer. Then a new plan arises and I am to follow Dupree to drop off the rental car, and drive him back. So wife does another favor. She's a saint. She drives because I'm exhausted from watching the season change. It's like jet-lag thru time zones. We have a great meal at the Cambridge Diner. I have eggs which makes no sense. When we get home Jake and I go straight to bed. Thursday March 5, 2009 is over. When I awoke at dawn on Friday, I was in the same position as when I fell asleep. Next: the Holy Holidays. The Ides, St. Pat's, and the Most Holy.....The Equinox. Gen. Aviation Informal. PS......... if you want to see the video...... it's easy......go to YouTube.....then search n98009..... then click on "as tears go by"

fighting the last war

General Aviation around Washington D.C. is different than anywhere else. In a bad way. After 9-11 some temporary rules were set up up to restrict flight around the D.C. area. The rules were hasty, reactionary, useless, and a huge waste of everyone's time. And they still are. Oddly, the New York City area has had no changes to it's airspace in the post 9-11 era. I guess the folks in Washington are more important than the folks in New York. I once asked the AOPA about this New York thing. They said that they had fought to keep it from happening in New York. I should thank them. If we use the New York example as we protest, their answer will be to set up an ADIZ in New York. If there is some sort of attack made on Washington with a light plane, I don't think it would do much. But 9-11 happened with airplanes. So it's airplanes we're worried about. Let's defend against airplanes. This is a kind of "Maginot Line" mentality. Let's insist that the terrorists attack again with an airplane, if they must attack. Perhaps we can get them to obey the speed limits and use transponder codes. Unfortunately, the next attack will be something we don't expect. Will it be something as simple as a half dozen suicidal terrorists cutting loose in a city with automatic weapons? Kill as many as they can before they can be killed. That will do more damage than crashing a general aviation plane into a building. And it's a hell of a lot easier. The ports are a big concern also. We're putting a lot of resources into this policing of private pilots around D.C. While we're all jumping through hoops to keep the good guys out of the kill zone, are we missing the new real kill zone? By dealing with the good guys 24-7 are the bad guys glad that we're busy with that? Just a day or two ago the Washington ADIZ became a permenant part of the regulations. No longer temporary, it's here to stay. That's sad because a lot of us hoped it would go away, and be slowly replaced by other more effective security measures. It's now called the ADIZ/SFRA. And there's a new ruling that comes with it. I just love this. Any pilot who flies within 60 miles of the area must have completed a test and have a certificate showing he has been trained about the ADIZ/SFRA. 60 miles! So if a guy never wants to go near the stinking SFRA and just wants to fly around it, he must take this test. The test includes proceedures that are specific to Leesburg, Va. and the trainee must know about it even if he's never gonna go there! I love this. This is not only locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen. This is making the neighbors take a course about the horses that used to be in the barn! How will they enforce this? What does it accomplish? I wonder if they considered forcing everyone who flies within the SFRA to take the test, and just not worry about the neighbors who are outside the SFRA and have nothing to do with it. Make sense? I understand the FAA is violating three or four hundred guys a year for ADIZ infractions. About one a day. If they all now have this course under their belt, maybe there will be less violations. Maybe. Now if we could just get the terrorists to take the exam.

hearts and flowers

Today was a great Valentines Day. My wife went to Salisbury with a girlfriend to go look at horsey stuff. So I just dinked around all day. I took care of her five dogs. Letting them in and out. My dog just stays with me all the time. I told him it was Valentines Day. He was not impressed. Then I said, "Jake, what time is it"? He barked out the answer. "Now! now! now!" We walked around looking at our new pseudo pavement. Don't ever listen to a smooth talking country Eastern Shore Delaware guy who says he's been asphalting at the neighbors and boy can he "give you a deal" while he and his crew and equipment are here. I spent a lot of money I didn't have. And during a depression. It's called pseudo pavement because it's not a complete blacktop job. It's recycled asphalt. Called "cold mix" or "cold pour". It's basically like putting down gravel. But after it's rolled it looks pretty good. He quoted me a price on doing my runway. 2500 ft. 50 ft. wide. "Fifty Thousand". But the cold pour is soft and crumbly and it wouldn't work for landings. You need the full blacktop which would cost 4 or 5 times that. Don't worry my friends. I would never pave my runway even if I had the money. So we paved the driveway. It's been a two-track since the wagons made it around 1910. The smooth talking guy with the cowboy hat told me I didn't need a permit. So Jake and I walked on the new driveway. Wife came home. They had eaten at "Outback". I figured she wouldn't want to go out again for a Valentine date with her husband. But she eats like a bird and we went out to Seaford. All the restaurants were crowded. We did get seated at a very elegant place called Ihop. We spent 24 bucks. But the big night wasn't over. Oh no. We went to this store named "Roses". "Roses" is a few steps below the dollar stores. "Roses" makes Wal-Mart look like Neiman Marcus. But I love "Roses". Since I hadn't gotten wife a Valentine, and we had to drive right past..... I begged her to let us go to Roses. She said OK, but with conditions. First, she would not go in. She would wait in the car. Second, I was not to get her a card, or candy. I ran into Roses. They were closing. I bought a little white stuffed puppy dog, an LED flashlight, and a box of cookies. She claims that all three gifts suit her very much, especially the puppy. We rode home and onto the newly pseudo- paved driveway. We agreed this had been a fine date. I was making some tea and she took a call from her sister. She spoke and spun her office chair around to face me as I looked in on her. "Oh yes, Lloyd got me a Valentine gift. It was "Roses".

Mary Feik

The pilots who flew in World War II are a dying breed. There was a time not long ago that many pilots had fathers who flew in WWII. Now it's getting hard to find fathers who flew in Korea. My friend Clark flies as an instructor at the Naval Academy Flying Club. The other day he called me to say he was going to have coffee with Mary Feik and I could join him. I knew who Mary Feik was. I took my video camera and my autograph book and headed out to Lee Airport in Annapolis, Md. The 84 year old famous engineer, mechanic, pilot shook my hand and smiled and let me turn on my camera. Even though I was a perfect stranger. Her gray hair was beautifully done in a Mary Martin-Peter Pan style. She looked like a million bucks. I had a list of things to ask her but it went out the window. I heard myself ask her what is was like working for the Army Air Corp. when you were a cute 19 yr. old and the only girl around. Were you chatted up by a lot of men. She said no she wasn't. She said she was part of an engineering team and it was strictly work. But she was not "one of the guys". On flight trips when there was a layover, she would have a bag with her that enabled her to dress in a dress with stockings. "They went out with a lady". I asked her something about Wright Patterson, and she began a narrative that would last off and on for three hours. I wish I had every word on the tape, but I don't. The story begins with an eighteen year old girl not being accepted into the engineering department at the University of Buffalo. She applies for a job with the pre Pearl Harbor Army Air Corps. As a maintenance instructor. She is hired and notified by telegram. This would lead to her testing and flying aircraft like the: P-51, P-38, T-33, B-17, B-25, B-29. She designed the flight simulators used for WWII fighters.. She flew 6000 hours in B-29's as a test engineer. She was honored by NASA as one of the 47 most significant women in aerospace. She restored airplanes for the Smithsonian for 10 years. Including work on the Enola Gay. She received the Charles Taylor Master Mechanics Award. She knew Crossfield, Yeager, Hoover. And so much more. She told me about testing a B-25 one day with a failed right main landing gear. They battled with it, it went up and over in a big cartwheel. Her co-pilot had not a scratch, but they had to cut Mary out of it. On her 50th wedding anniversary she was riding on the Concord to London. She was called up to the flight deck and asked to observe the flight engineer for the entire flight. Three hours and thirteen minutes. She told her friend Scott Crossfield (the first guy to mach 2), "See Scott, I did it too". Now I've got this video of Mary. My wife and I are going to try to edit it and post it up on YouTube. So all my friends can see Mary Feik, the living legendary female aviator.

Elizabeth Taylor

Being from the boom generation, I'm pretty computer dumb. I love certain kinds of music, but I don't have a music device such as an MP3. I have a blog, but barely know how to sign into it. Any time I get in trouble on the computer, I get my wife to come and fix it. In the airplane, I use the GPS to give me course and track and groundspeed. I'm so grateful to have that, I don't ask the GPS to do anything else for fear I will push the wrong button and it will go away. I was fiddling around on YouTube watching the oldies from my childhood. I have a few old folk songs at my own YouTube channel. This is only because my wife set it up for me. While I was watching a Neil Young song "Long May you Run" (about a car), I clicked on a cover of the song. It was by a person called "the brooke" or "brooke". She had the sweetest voice I ever heard. Just a kid from Montana. I was amazed that her cover had 53,000 hits. My "Four Strong Winds" (also Neil Young) cover, has by comparison, 400 hits. Then I clicked on her cover of Sam theSham's "Little Red Riding Hood". 199,000 hits! Check her out! I guess if I'm a YouTube junkie, and I Google anything I have a question about, and I have a blog, I must be at a level that I can at least use the computer in a rudimentary way. The way I use the GPS. But what strikes me is how great the computer technology enables me to reminisce about the older stuff. Old songs, history, facts, myths Another thing that strikes me is that newer generations who play video games and text 24-7, embrace things like Sam the Sham. I know I'm way, way out of touch and that's OK. We all have our place in the time line. But having a computer and putting a few little songs up on YouTube makes me feel connected. And there are lots of folks on there with me. The internet is the new town square. The new Times Square. Obama is the first internet president. Each person can get what they want from the web. Somebody like the brooke can get rich and famous from it. I bet she will. But I'd like to give her some advice. Not about singing. She's the best ever. But about life. The fictional character Velvet in the book National Velvet (or movie) has new found world fame. Her mother advises her to enjoy it for a short time, and then move on to a normal life with normal love and family. She obeys and that's the end of the movie. So brooke. Don't be Brittany Spears. Enjoy your love and your new baby and friends and family in Montana. Post a song now and then and a million of us will log on line. You'll still be a great singer. You just won't be a freak in a glass cage that everyone wants to see fall. As for money, anyone can tell you there is never enough money, if it's money you want. I just saw "National Velvet" on TCM the other day. I highly recommend it.

On a Sunday

I'm an old crow's feet aviator now. I guess I'm just two generations away from the barnstormers in a way. But my dad was too old for battle in WWII and was an instructor of Army Air Corp Cadets. He was born in 1903, the year of the Wrights. He got his first plane ride in a Jenny. So did my mom. So I'm almost one generation from the barnstormers. About 33 years ago I was working on the Airmail. I spent every other weekend at the New River Valley in Virginia. One Sunday it was open house at the airfield. The locals were there in droves. The weather was gorgeous. Many of the locals watched from their cars. Others hung on the fence. The brave ones came in and asked questions. "Now that you've come down, will you rise again?" "Why do they jump out of the plane when it don't crash?" Having been a suburbanite all my life I was as awed by the spectators as they were by me. Although there was no airshow per se, there was plenty to see. There were the skydivers. Running two jump planes. An FBO airplane giving rides. Two gyroplanes whipping back and forth down the runway. Some local pilots out for Sunday flights. A biplane from Blacksburg. The mailplanes just sitting on the ramp, and folks walking around them. And barbeque. And the skydivers partying with the college kids. And my Citabria. I had no intention of doing anything at the open house, other than eat food with the skydivers and check out the college girls. But my buddy Pablo wanted to do some flying and was building up his hours. So he started giving rides in my Citabria for five dollars. Pretty soon people were coming up to me and handing me five dollars. They wanted to be next in line for a ride in the red and white "stunt plane". After about two hours of this, I found out that Pablo was giving each customer a "loop" during the ride. During refueling I was able to talk to Pablo and I told him giving loops on every ride was pretty illegal. No parachutes, no airspace box etc. He said, "Look Luther, you're selling rides to the public. I have no commercial license, you have no commercial insurance. Loops are the least of our problems". "Yea Pablo. But look you got to cut these rides shorter or I'm losing money". He took a bathroom break and got a coke and a candy bar and jumped back into the plane. I left my friend Leo to collect five bucks per person and help strap them in. I went back to the "drop zone party" and the girl in the tank top that I was trying to convince to let me show her my mail plane. We kept hearing that this jumper named "Crazy Denny" was going to fly his "bat wings" for the event. He did show, but the wings weren't that effective and it was too far up to really see what he was doing. But he did actually have wings for the free fall. This was before webbed jump suits. Before ultra lights. At the dawn of square parachute rigs. As I looked around the New River Valley Airport that day I saw a spectacle that was a real aviation phenomenon. I felt like a barnstormer, and I knew it was as close as I was going to get. Right at the peak of it all, a rumor was circulating through the crowd. The rumor was that the FAA was on the way to New River Valley! If you are a pilot, or an aircraft owner, you better not ignore such a rumor. After I heard this, the first thing I saw was "Crazy Denny" scrambling around with his gear and getting the bat wings into his truck. In five minutes he was driving away. Pablo was in the air with a ride. The Citab had a radio, but I doubted Pablo was using it. So my plan was just to stop Pablo after this ride. In the meantime, I went to "Jumper John" who ran the drop zone. "John, is it true? The Feds?" He replied, "OH Yea, we're packin' up. Even though other than Crazy and some experimental shit, I'm mostly legal". "But John, maybe it's just a rumor. How do you know they're coming"? "We know. Mel, with the gyrocopter, he's got a sister or something at the Charleston General Aviation District Office. We even know which inspectors are coming!" I looked across the field and I saw the gyros being put quickly into the hangars and no one else flying. I also saw Pablo on final. I started running the half mile to the ramp. He taxied up. We got his passenger out. "Pablo, ramp checks! Get this plane outa here. Fly over to Blacksburg. Park and call me every hour. Stay outa here." "Whatever you say boss", he replies. I walked his passenger back to the parking lot. The locals in their cars were all packing up and leaving. They didn't want to stay around either. Nothing more to see. And apparently the "cops" were coming. I went to the office. It was Sunday. All closed except the line guy who had sold a lot of gas today. I wanted to lock up my mail plane. I had never done that. I asked Doug the line boy about it and he said he could lock it but it was no use, because Wayne (the other mail pilot) was willing to talk to the Feds and show them whatever they wanted, including my mail plane. Wayne was a very good friend to me and had helped me learn a lot. And a decorated Vietnam vet too. But he was the kind of guy who would remind the teacher that she had forgotten to assign the homework. Well, I didn't want to be standing around when the feds came and I had no car. And my Citab was over at Blacksburg. So I just started walking down the airport road towards town. The airport was a ghost town. An hour ago it had been teaming with activity. At the drop zone, not one car in the parking lot. I cut across the "peas" which is the spot where they touch down under canopy. I intercept the main road and I see a black sedan with two men in it. I eyeball them as they drive by, but they don't slow down to look me over. Have fun guys. You fixed it so it's safe at New River today. No accidents, no flying. And if you expect to build up your ego by intimidating pilots, you'll be sorely disappointed when you meet my friend Wayne. It's still early. Jumper John will be having a nice party right now. About a three mile walk. I doubt the tank top girl will be there, but you never know.

Silent Night Holy Night

Saturday the 3rd of January. My son wants to travel tomorrow back to school in Carolina. He sleeps all day and stays up all night. He just got back from an all nighter that had him at Times Square on New Years Eve. But the weather tomorrow looks pretty bad. Low ceilings in the forecast. Now, my Cher OH kee is instrument legal. And I suppose I am too. But I'd rather drive the eight hours than try to slog down flying in crappy weather. So we wake up His Majesty and ask him if he'd rather fly down tonight in pretty weather, or drive through rain and mist for eight hours tomorrow. Next thing I know he's up and showering and will be ready in "fifteen minutes". Meanwhile, I am not dressed, the plane ain't ready, the hangar doors are closed, I need to do a pre flight, the plane is very low on gas. But I get an adrenalin rush because it's a real pretty afternoon and I'm goin' flying. So I throw on the clothes I wore to the restaurant last night which are strewn on the chair. I grab an overnight satchel which is sort of always loaded with underwear and socks and a spare shirt and a flashlight and shave kit and other junk. The plane already has in it a small chart pouch and a small flight kit. I keep the dogs in the house and I go out to the plane. It's 4PM. Cambridge closes for fuel at five. I get the doors open. I get the airplane rolled out. I sump it. I call my wife in the house on her cell. "Honey tell His Majesty to take the Toyota to Cambridge and I'll meet him there. I'll get the car on the way home tonight". Then I take five minutes to spray silicone on the right seat tracks to fix a sticking seat. It works great. As I warm up the engine, I am able to reboot the apollo GPS which had quit working again. Sometimes it just won't compute. I "tricked" it into finding itself. Now I have two GPS's again. I take off in the beautiful cool clear air. With just me and no fuel I'm a fricking Super Cub off in 500 ft. I make Cambridge in time for fuel. My son is there at about the same time. We head out while we still have a bit of daylight left. We get almost down over Richmond before it is completely dark. A beautiful ride. His buddy is there to pick him up for a ride to campus. The airport is quiet. I call wife/mother at home. I climb back in the plane and taxi out. A T-tail King Air lands. I taxi out and pop my second diet coke. I havn't enough fuel to go all the way home, but I know exactly where I'm going. I take off and start climbing on my 60 degree heading. I settle into a nice 400 ft./min climb towards 7500 ft. I watch Durham go by. Then Danville. I program FCI into the GPS's. FCI is just south of the Richmond Class C. They have expensive 100LL but they are open till 10PM. I get there at about 9:30. Off again with full tanks and a quiet flight to Cambridge. I get to see some incredible shooting stars as the Geminids are active. I see smoke trails and hang time and bright lights from these meteorites. My final decent into CGE has me with full flaps trying to keep the engine warm. I tie down the Cher OH kee. I walk a half mile to the terminal where son has parked the Toyota. It's pretty cold and quiet. 25 degrees. I drive home. So as not to wake up six dogs and wife I use the runway instead of the driveway. I drive the Toyota right into the hangar. As I shut off the car, the oldies station known as "The Beach" is playing a song about a guy who says you may be right, I may be crazy, but it might be a lunitic you're lookin' for. After the car is off I still hear the song. It's because of the radio in the "man cave" in the back of the hangar. It has played 24-7 since the solstice party. I get out a beer right there and just look at the M-10 Cadet and my wife's 350Z and reflect. In an epiphany I realize...... that neither of them are paid for.