Luscombe Part 2

Today promised to be fair weather,  and cooler.  Just eighty degrees and white puffy clouds.  At 8 AM I smelled the decaf brewing and looked out my bathroom window.  Weather as predicted.  I was supposed to be hustling to get the Luscombe rolled and pre flighted,  then  take a shower and go.  But I found myself having a few cups of that decaf and sitting and chatting with wife.  We talked about my interesting friends and her interesting family.  And we talked about the heat wave and today's sea change which gave us puffy clouds and 78 degrees.  I got the plane ready first.  Then took the shower.

The Luscombe is harder to ramp up and launch than the CherOHkee.  The Luscombe is easier to ramp up and launch than the CherOHkee.  I guess I could write a post about what that means.

That reminds me of one of my first blog posts.  When I asked the question "what airplane is the easiest to fly?"   Answer:  The airplane you fly every day.

The fly-in I was headed for this morning was only maybe 28 nm away.  Over by Salisbury.  As I taxied out I looked at some new turf I had seeded.  I knew I had planted it too late in the season.  I looked at the ten acres of melons my farmer had put in.  And all of the irrigation equipment involved.  And my runway was tan,  brown and red instead of green.  The heat wave had scorched it.  And I thought of the fly-ins I had been to recently.  Horn Point.  Kentmorr.  Sugar Hill and now Art's.  All within 30 nm. of my place.  I had the brief thought that I could go to a car show or fly-in every single weekend from now through September if I wanted to.  I even know a few dates in October.  Hey,  I said.  I'm taxiing the Luscombe and not thinking about it.  That's good.  I must be getting comfortable in the airplane.  But taxiing is what we called in the airlines a "Sterile" activity.  No talking.  What about talking to myself?..  Pay attention Lloyd.  There's always something you need to be doing in an airplane.  Where's the wind.  Will there be deer or foxes on the runway.  Engine instruments.  Nice to be getting comfortable finally in this little taildragger.  I just have to be careful because I'm naturally lazy.

I chugged along at 2500 feet.  I had my window open and my elbow outside as in a car.  I was neither hot nor cold.  The viz was sweet after our huge entire east coast cold front.  No GPS,  VOR, or radar vectors.  I am lost on a 28 mile trip.  But how can I be lost.  There's Vienna.  I know it well.  Oh and there's Sharptown.  Hey I've gotta stay away from Laurel Deleware.  They skydive there.  And I can't get near Salisbury.  A Control Tower.  In a cardboard box on the empty right seat there is my Garman 196 portable GPS.  And an ICOM portable tranceiver.  I just don't feel like turning them on.  There's highway 13.  The road that bisects the Delmarva Peninsula.  And there is Delmar.  A town half in Deleware and half in Maryland.  I'll follow that road east out of Delmar toward the beach.  Yes,  there is the Ocean City skyline. But where the heck is Art's?  I'm lost.  I can't be lost because there is the town of Pittsville.  I look straight down.  There is the Fly-in.  "Airstreams and Airplanes".   I see the gaggle of big, shiny trailers.  I circle in a dreamy,  I'm not ready to land yet,  way.  I'm the first plane there.  I get parked and I watch the next two airplanes land.  My friend Dempsey greets me and I ask if there is coffee.  He says no but he can get some.  I asked what he meant by that.  He pointed at the dozen or so beautiful Airstreams and said:  "There's thirteen kitchens".

Gen.  Av. Informal       ::::+::::