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.

give me a moment

I was going to title this post "Reflections on 2008". But I didn't. 2008 was one of the best years of my life. I was going to chronicle some of the events. Maybe some other time. I'm very happy in my retirement. I've been pretty much doing what I want. Time is such a gift. I will not go so far as to say life is a gift. Life is hard for most people and very hard for a lot of people. Even if one's life is going great, it can so quickly vanish. Or become unbearable. Ask John Travolta. Jim Croce. All of us will die. I don't want to tempt or dare fate. But I just want to say I am happy. I know I'm lucky. How long can it last? Until I am diagnosed with a terminal disease. Or get killed by accident. Right now I'm happy. When I try to fantasize about things, the way they could be, I always get bogged down in the details and the fantasies develop problems just the way life does. My life is a pretty nice fantasy. Everyone thinks of winning the lottery. It's a classic fantasy. If you really follow the fantasy through, you find you are still facing challenges. The philosophers take it a step further and have you just ask yourself "what if you had an experience 'chamber' and for a period of time life could happen exactly the way you wanted it. What would you do"? The hardest thing about getting what you want in life, is, in fact, figuring out what you want in life. As I've been retired and gotten older, I've gotten much better at the skill of of living in the "present". Enjoy it now. Of course I still look forward to lots of things in the future. My plan for 2009: 1. fly my two airplanes. 2. do a kitchen remake that takes out a wall. 3. Start on a tack-room/girl cave for my wife. 4. have a better than ever vegetable garden. 5. Record some music videos starring me. 6. Do some work on the TR-6 project. 7. Have a "coffee house" hangar party. 8. Take the M10 to a bunch of fly-ins through the season. 9. The house and buildings always need painting. I'm not really good at anything. I can fly a plane, but I've never been good at it. Play guitar, same thing. Handyman stuff, I'm pretty bad. Mechanical, bad. There is one thing I may be good at. Goofing off. Using up idle time. Being retired.