Pilots Age Fast go Slow; Airplanes Age Slow go Fast

Well,  the "Ides of March" have passed us by.  Spring has helped me by increasing my energy level.  Today is Saturday and the work party at Horn Point (to which I might have taken the Luscombe),  has been cancelled due to rain.  It's not raining here yet.  I just went out and moved the VW bug out of it's rickity old garage into the hangar.  I didn't want to do that in the rain.  I have something I am going to do on the VW.
As you know,  I don't do mechanic type work.  I am going to put on my vintage tags.  License plates. Maryland is one of a very few states where you can run vintage tags.  Of course you have to comply with a wee bit of red tape and pay a $25 one time charge.  Over the Internet I bought a set of 1970 plates for the 1970 VW.  Then I had to go to MVA/DMV and comply with the red tape.  Now I just have to install the plates.  I also have to carry the "real" tags with me in the car.  The car is blue with white seats.  The tag is white with blue lettering.  I think it will look pretty sweet,  but the tags are a bit yellowed because they are 43 years old.  So that's the geezer plan for today.  Exciting aye?   

It's interesting.  Airplanes age differently from cars.  A 1970 car is a classic and we like to see them on the road or at the Dairy Queen.  Chevelles and Mustangs etc.  They are old cars.  But I have 2 airplanes:  one a 1946 and one a 1969.
Nobody in aviation or in the work-a-day world really thinks about those planes as being "old planes".  They are my planes that I use to go flying for fun or to get somewhere.  The fact that the Luscombe is 66 years old rarely comes up.  If I give a "civilian" a ride in the Luscombe,  it's an airplane ride.  Not "OMG look at that relic!"

Let me go a step further.   I flew my last DC-9 trip in Nov. of  2004.  The passengers and crew were riding in an airliner that was well over 30 years old.  With a major airline.  In Maryland a car is officially "historic" if it is at least 20 years old!  The passengers were just going A to B and wanting to be on time.  Nobody thought "hey I'm riding in an historic airplane".

By the way,  my last leg as a DC-9 captain on November 9th 2004 was from Flint, Michigan to Detroit.  A distance of 49 nm!  The exact same distance  I will fly my Luscombe one week from today when I go to the Bonanza fly-in brunch at Wildwood NJ.  It starts at ten AM.  Maybe I will see you there.

GAI     :::::+:::::

Luscombe out for Spring

Today is half way between the first day of Meteorological Spring and the Equinox first day of Spring. And the first day of Daylight Savings. Yesterday was beautiful and springlike.  But I was in such a bad habit of not moving around.  Also I had a few things to attend to.  I wound up not doing much outside.  But today I was ready for it.  The first really nice day for a couple of months.  My wife's plan was to hang out at home and do some work in the barn and play with her horse and the dogs.  My plan was to roto till the garden and clean up fallen tree limbs.  And see what was up with the wind damaged hangar doors.  And possibly fly the Luscombe.  I had done very little since November.  Mostly read,  watched cable,  surfed Internet, ate, napped every day,  hibernated.  So today I was out of bed at 8:30.  Early for me.  Then had a pot of tea and snacks and chatted with wife till 11.  Which was nice.  It turned out it was actually 12 noon.  I wandered out to the hangar and I knew I had a flat tire on the tiller.  The valve on the wheel is on the inside and hard to get to.  So I tried to put air in it and the air was just spilling.  The tire was off the bead and I was out of luck I thought.   But I put my glasses on and tried once again and it turned out air was spilling because there was still a dust cap on the valve.  I didn't curse myself because I was so happy to have those tires inflated.  My friend Dempsey the wizard had been over the week before and had pulled and cleaned the carb on the thing and done two or three other things for it.  So when I pulled the rope the Honda tiller fired up on the first pull.  I got the tilling done and put away and I was getting sore in the legs already.  Next I started on the fallen limbs.  I got the bow saw and the pickup truck.  On the seat of the truck there was this little spray can of super oil.  It was about $8.  at the locksmith for this 3oz. can.  The guy had told me not to use graphite. I sprayed it in the keyhole of both doors and the key which would barely move was now good as new.  I started thinking maybe this was going to be one of those days when everything clicks. I had to cut down a few limbs and then pick up a couple hundred limbs from all around the house.  That got done and my legs and back are really getting sore.  My wife and I are really in the market for a treadmill.  So I leave the truck loaded with limbs and brush.  I can empty it later.  It's time to see about that stuck hangar door.  It had been jambed in 50 mph plus gusts in two different storms.  I had put some big lumber against the outside of the doors to try to protect them.  I am so out of shape and such a wheezing geezer that I had to take a break after wrestling those boards away.  Now  back and legs even more sore.  I start shoving on the most stuck door and it slides normally.  And so do the other three neatly into their outriggers.  WTF.  They apparently survived even though I saw them swinging wildly in the wind,  and later were stuck resting on the ground.  Perhaps they had been frozen.  This is a good omen indeed.  So I roll out the Luscombe.  I begin a long pre flight.  I add a half quart.  I check the controls from both inside and out.  I walk around the whole thing and get happy.  Then I set the brakes and go back to the house.  I get a ball cap and my wallet and some ear plugs and a bottle of water.  I tell wife I am going for a ride if I can get the thing started.  At least I don't have to worry about a dead battery.  It has no battery.  I tie the tail to the basketball pole.  You might think a basketball pole and backboard don't mix with an airplane apron.  But I've seen many ramps in my airline career with basketball hoops.  Just like the fire department.  I have a little cardboard box with foam rubber in the bottom.  I put it on the right seat filled with my water bottle,  GPS, a half sectional folded up,  a roll of masking tape, glasses, etc.  I dip a wooden dowel into the gas tank.  I triple check the vent to the tank.  I turn on the fuel.   I give three shots of prime.  I leave the switch off.  I pull the throttle back to the stop. I pull the prop through about three times.  I prime one more time and turn the mags on.  Now I see prime fuel dripping.  I swing the prop and she fires and runs and quits.  Ran on the prime?  I pull it two more times,  no go.  Third pull it starts and runs ticking over at about 600 rpm.  I walk around to the tail and pull the chock and untie it. Climb in (which isn't easy). Taxi out with an east wind which is rare.  Take my time warming up.  Haven't flown in two months.  The field isn't as soggy as I expected.  For a tail dragger it's fine.  As I make my take off roll I have the stick hard back and accelerate quickly.  The 65 hp feels as sprightly as the 150 hp on the Cherokee does. Or more so.  I don't shove the stick forward to rake her or step her.  I just raise the tail off the ground and leave some angle of attack and we are flying.  It's fun already.  There are trees at the end when going this way so I gently turn right toward another farm in case the little Continental decides not to want to wake up for Spring.  I find myself heading south and east toward Hurlock and Sharpstown on the river.  I had planned on shooting a few landings but I just kept on going and up to 3500 feet.  I went to Art's place about 25 NM away.  I didn't land there because you never know after the rains.  But I know Art's place is much better drained than mine.  It was hazy and getting dark toward the beach and all of a sudden I figured I'd better B line it for home.  I had waited too long and gone too far.  I had enough light to get home,  but I had no time to dilly dally or strafe for deer on the runway.  Parked back on the basketball court.  Set the brakes.  I'll chock her later.  I came in to check the weather.  It sure got cold again when the sun went down.  Weather good enough to leave her out and the hangar doors open and maybe fly again tomorrow.  Everything did indeed click.  So I decided to write to you my friends.  Happy Daylight Savings!

GAInformal     :::::+:::::