It's Sunday the thirteenth of December. I dread Christmas and look forward to it. I learned last Sunday that General Aviation is not dead! One week ago today I had the pleasure of attending a "winter hangar party" at Massey.
This is a grass strip in the northern Eastern Shore that is a quiet little place until there is an event! Sunday December 6th was forecast to be perfect weather. A lot of pent up energy among GA pilots deciding when to put their airplanes away for the winter. It was a perfect storm of activity. My friend Brian flew in to my strip to pick me up on his way to Massey. He has a beautiful Cessna 195. An antique well suited for Massey. As I watched him circle and land I had my hand- held Icom transceiver tuned to 122.9. I could hear a constant chatter from aircraft at Massey 40 miles north of me. It was a beehive of traffic and the fly-in was not due to start for another hour! Brian let me steer the 195 all the way up and that was fun. It was so crowded we just couldn't slot into the pattern. After three go arounds we finally got in. Brian did a great job and kept his cool, and I and the other two passengers felt safe, and Brian really rolled it on. I heard later that there were 170 airplanes at this "little" fly-in. The four hours just flew by. (pun intended). There were so many airplanes, they were parking them on the sides of the runway, on the cross wind runway, and the infield was packed. The famous Lindbergh 1930 Bird Winkle was there. Bush planes, RV 8's 12's 4's and more, Stearmans, Great Lakes, short wing pipers, 3 195's, Lances, Saratogas, Bonanzas, Cubs of all variations, all the usual stuff and more. So many folks I knew I could not greet them all.
The food is always great at Massey. The buffet line went all the way around the hangar. As folks waited in line they were all chatting and catching up on all the projects. It seemed as if everybody knew everybody. My wife and her dog came up by car and we sat at the "grassy knoll" and just watched airplanes come and go. The 195 had to get going and I hung around until all was quiet and rode home with wife in the Subaru. There is a Maryland state road, Rt. 313 that runs right by Massey and right by our farm. So instead of taking 301, the big highway, we followed 313 south all the way home. Through farm country. A big sunset.
all the way.
Is my Luscombe done for the winter? Apparently not. Yesterday, Saturday, another Indian Summer day, I flew up to Cheswald, Deleware Airpark It was a hangar party. Small and friendly and a wonderful group. Thanks Trey and Janice!
Cheswald is being remade into a larger airport. I have mixed emotions about that. Flight planning for me to Cheswald is made easy: bearing= 33 degrees, distance= 33 nautical miles, identifier= 33N.
I'm not going to put my plane away yet. It's 67 degrees today.
GAI :::::+:::::
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Friday, October 30, 2015
they still make McGuire's mirror glaze
I guess I haven't posted here in ten months! I still have the Luscombe. I'm still the pathetic poster boy for the "full circle" pilots. I let my 3rd class expire years ago. Ironically I can't fly all the models of the Luscome 8. The later models weigh a little over 1320 lbs. Ironically, the later models are safer, and better. Things like wing tanks, electric starters, a little more horsepower, a little newer, these things would make me safer in the same airframe, but I would need the third class medical.
I won a prize with the 8a this year at w-29. And another at Ocean City. My fly-in was cancelled and so was GED.
I blew off a big fly-in, I don't remember which one it was. But later that big day I did fly the little 8a to GED. I got fuel and ate at the restaurant, It was great. Quiet and laid back. As I climbed out over the town of Georgetown,
I saw the B25 "Ponchito" descending into the pattern. He was returning from Andrews. There were a half dozen other fly-ins that day. But I made my own little fly out. As I've gotten older, and forgetfullyer, and less tech, and less patient, I need to keep it simple. I can be nice and even charming for about 30 minutes, then need to hide.
OK time for a little friendly geezer rant:
Over my fifty years of flying I've cleaned a lot of windscreens. We all have. And I'd like to comment on what I call the "Pledge" phenomena.
I first heard about "Lemon Pledge" for airplanes about 30 years ago. It was a trade secret and apparently if you knew about it, you were sort of an old salt experienced pilot passing on this great wisdom to the rookies. It was described as the best and the only way to go when cleaning an airplane's glass. And what was really cool was that you could buy it in the grocery store, or K Mart. And it cost less than plexi cleaners at "Sporty's". But the way coolest thing about Pledge was that you, the user, were cool. You were helping the ignorant rookie and saw yourself as in on the secret. I've been told about pledge now for 30 years. If a pilot sees you cleaning your windscreen or waxing your leading edges, to this day, he will likely tell you about it. Pilots almost never assume you probably already know about pledge. I don't use Pledge on my airplane, but I have used it over the years, when it was handy. I never recommended it to anyone else, so I didn't get to be in the secret, (not so secret), cult.
One of the least important factors in cleaning a plastic window is the polish you use for the finishing touch. I'm not going to describe how I clean plexiglass. Everyone has their techniques. But no one should use a polish to "clean" a window. Including the sacred Pledge.
A year or so, maybe two, ago, I was using pledge and noticed that it was not "lemon". I was using it on wood, and my wife told me she hadn't seen "lemon" in the stores in a long time. Also she said it wasn't as "waxy"
anymore. I looked at the can. The can was the same, but different. Now there are lot's of Pledge choices in the stores. There is a "multi surface" Pledge. An "Antibacterial" Pledge, etc. I called the 888 number on the can. I asked the man if I could use the "new" pledge products on plexi. He said if it doesn't say it on the can, he can not guarantee it is safe on plexi.
If you stop using Pledge you can still be an old pro. You can continue to warn airmen and machinists about the dreaded Windex and the dreaded paper towels!
GAI :::::+:::::
I won a prize with the 8a this year at w-29. And another at Ocean City. My fly-in was cancelled and so was GED.
I blew off a big fly-in, I don't remember which one it was. But later that big day I did fly the little 8a to GED. I got fuel and ate at the restaurant, It was great. Quiet and laid back. As I climbed out over the town of Georgetown,
I saw the B25 "Ponchito" descending into the pattern. He was returning from Andrews. There were a half dozen other fly-ins that day. But I made my own little fly out. As I've gotten older, and forgetfullyer, and less tech, and less patient, I need to keep it simple. I can be nice and even charming for about 30 minutes, then need to hide.
OK time for a little friendly geezer rant:
Over my fifty years of flying I've cleaned a lot of windscreens. We all have. And I'd like to comment on what I call the "Pledge" phenomena.
I first heard about "Lemon Pledge" for airplanes about 30 years ago. It was a trade secret and apparently if you knew about it, you were sort of an old salt experienced pilot passing on this great wisdom to the rookies. It was described as the best and the only way to go when cleaning an airplane's glass. And what was really cool was that you could buy it in the grocery store, or K Mart. And it cost less than plexi cleaners at "Sporty's". But the way coolest thing about Pledge was that you, the user, were cool. You were helping the ignorant rookie and saw yourself as in on the secret. I've been told about pledge now for 30 years. If a pilot sees you cleaning your windscreen or waxing your leading edges, to this day, he will likely tell you about it. Pilots almost never assume you probably already know about pledge. I don't use Pledge on my airplane, but I have used it over the years, when it was handy. I never recommended it to anyone else, so I didn't get to be in the secret, (not so secret), cult.
One of the least important factors in cleaning a plastic window is the polish you use for the finishing touch. I'm not going to describe how I clean plexiglass. Everyone has their techniques. But no one should use a polish to "clean" a window. Including the sacred Pledge.
A year or so, maybe two, ago, I was using pledge and noticed that it was not "lemon". I was using it on wood, and my wife told me she hadn't seen "lemon" in the stores in a long time. Also she said it wasn't as "waxy"
anymore. I looked at the can. The can was the same, but different. Now there are lot's of Pledge choices in the stores. There is a "multi surface" Pledge. An "Antibacterial" Pledge, etc. I called the 888 number on the can. I asked the man if I could use the "new" pledge products on plexi. He said if it doesn't say it on the can, he can not guarantee it is safe on plexi.
If you stop using Pledge you can still be an old pro. You can continue to warn airmen and machinists about the dreaded Windex and the dreaded paper towels!
GAI :::::+:::::
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Feels so Good
Early in November a big storm was coming and I had rolled the Luscombe into the shed after a flight from Babe Ridge. Everything was OK except the comm. radio was still not right. I was securing the not perfect hangar doors. I grabbed a piece of 1x6 wood and a power screwdriver and battened the two front middle doors together with screws. This really locks the doors tight for the wind. It was kind of early to put the plane away for the winter. We've been warned of a hard winter. So lots of rains came and windy nights. And big dinners were had and eggnog flowed. The RV guys did their Holly Run to Tangier. My friend Clark dropped in in a Warrior. The strip got a little soft, but was OK. Christmas was great in every way, and the weather on Friday after Christmas was sunny and calm and 60 degrees. I could have, would have, should have, flown my little black airplane that day. But Christmas had been so much fun, I didn't get back from the western shore till Friday at 5 AM. and I was a post-Christmas zombie. My wife told me she had seen the forecast and the next day, Saturday, was to be nice too, and then back to the rains and the eggnog. So I got up Saturday and got my new Xmas cordless drill and went out and took down that batten from the doors of the shed and rolled out the Luscombe known as 819, aka "Blackjet", aka "Blackie". I did a pretty careful preflight, sumping fuel and making sure no new hangar rash. I tied the tail. I set the brakes tight. I turned on the fuel, primed four shots. With switch off I pulled her through about eight times. I then added 2 more shots prime and turned on the mags. Then swung the prop through. No hit. Second pull. She fired up and ran fairly smooth. Untied the tail, climbed in and taxied out. Grass in pretty good shape for late December. Even green in many places. I'm not fat on fuel so I must go straight to Cambridge. Take off west and light and solo and it's really fun. Taildraggers are a pain in the ass, but I hadn't been up in seven weeks and it was really fun. I had a great meal at "Kay's" at the airport. And got my fuel. Saw some friends from Sugar Hill. And some other winter flyers. A red sunset was forming and the 10 minute ride home was way too short. I couldn't land into that sun and so I landed east. I let her roll to the end and swung around and took off west and the sun was OK and red and diffused a bit. Had a short low small happy pattern and landed west to make the third landing of the trip. Back into the shed. I didn't screw in the batten board. Because I'm waiting. Waiting for another Indian summer. Now as I type to you my GA friends, it is Wednesday the 31st. New Years Eve. Happy New Year. I plan to fly 819 somehow in both Jan. and Feb. of 2015. Don't put your planes all the way away. Maybe we can all fly out to OC or Georgetown, De. I need at least 40 degrees and no wind chill.
Love, Lloyd
GAI :::::+:::::
Love, Lloyd
GAI :::::+:::::
Saturday, March 16, 2013
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 :::::+:::::
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 :::::+:::::
Sunday, March 10, 2013
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 :::::+:::::
GAInformal :::::+:::::
Saturday, December 8, 2012
fri sat sun mon
I got the Luscombe to a few more nearby fly-ins before the season ended. There was Greenwood in October and a Horn Point work party in November which I indeed flew into. And a flight up to Cheswald later in November, to say goodbye to a classic airplane which was leaving my sociogram, but never my heart. Then along came December 1st and 2nd. Beautiful warm days that started out foggy. Days that showed G.A. was alive even in December.
For me it started on Friday Nov. 30th. I was having one of my usual nothing days, except the weather was pristine, and warm. I had expected a visit from a friend or two who may have wanted to visit as a part of the "Holly Run" on Saturday and "Massey" on Sunday. But nobody called about that. I got a call at 4PM from my friend the Professor. He asked if I was still going to be having friends over. I said no. He said "Can I fly in anyway?" And I said absolutely but 'tis getting late. Suddenly I cared about doing something. I needed my truck to gather some firewood. I needed firewood because the Professor and I like campfires. The truck was full from another project. I hurried and emptied the truck and before I could start gathering fallen tree limbs, the 152 circled in a gorgeous sunset and I saw it land west where naked bare trees now allowed me to see the airstrip in almost winter. The light was fading and the Professor parked the Cessna and climbed in the truck and he was charged from a great flight as a cap off to a long day and long week for him. So we gathered wood as much as we could grab before dark. Then we laid a fire. Then before lighting it we ran out to dinner. (Suicide Bridge). Then a roaring fire.
Saturday morning wife had been up for hours before I rose. The Prof. still sleeping in. I made some breakfast and I opened the hangar doors and rolled out the Luscombe. It was foggy, and calm, and fairly warm. I started gathering more wood. Soon the Prof was helping me and all of a sudden it was 3:30 and getting late again. We started the Luscombe and I taxied out to go to Cambridge for fuel. Then we got visited by a couple RV's who did beautiful fly bys..... had they been on the Holly Run? I took off and headed for CGE. The Choptank River was coated with an icing of fog. The viz was down in a weird haze. I was considering turning back on a flight that was 12 miles long. My little 65hp engine started missing and my heart jumped. I pulled on the carb heat and it got rougher still but I kept the heat on and it finally cleared up. The Prof had taken off also, but decided to just fly two circuits. I got my fuel and had help with a prop start and was on my way home. I took off and flew all the way home with the carb heat on. It was 100 percent humidity. And I landed and left the airplane outside, and far away from our fire pit. I would be using it tomorrow anyway. I had enough light to gather more wood and lay the fire. We ordered carry out food delivered so we could just hang out in the hazy, damp night by that lovely fire. We made it an early night.
Sunday morning. I had chores to do. The wx was foggy. I was moving slow. I had to go to the store to get breakfast food and my covered dish contribution to Massey. Weather permitting.
It seemed to take forever to get launched. The Prof had planned to take his 152 to Massey, but he asked if he could come with me in the little Luscombe. So we went. The wx had cleared and it was wonderful. The pattern was a bee hive, but we snuck in one hour late and the place was packed we were triple parked.
I saw many of my friends and had a great time. We watched everyone take off. Then we had to hustle to get propped (thanks Dempsey) and get going, these days are short. Then back just in time for one pass to see if we could scare away deer, foxes, skunk, seagulls, dogs. Again I parked outside and 500 feet from the fire pit. And for the third night my friend the Prof and I had a nice campfire. A very early night as he had to leave and teach in the AM and what if there was fog....
Monday morning.... for some reason I awoke at six and couldn't go back to sleep.... so I made coffee and slugged around and watched the Prof go about his Profy, Profy day. He checked wx, skyped his GF in Norway, ate breakfast, the fog slowly lifted. He launched about nine and I was on my golfcart out by the runway saying goodbye on my Icom on 122.9. He flew out of sight in the sun and the mist.
I figured I would go back to bed. But the golfcart took me along the treeline to some brush I had been clearing. I started picking up limbs and twigs. I took off my jacket. It was almost 50 degrees already in the sun. I still had on my moccasins. I put on my work gloves. Did you ever go to a fire that burned all night and try to get it going from the coals with twigs just for the hell of it?
GAI :::::+:::::
For me it started on Friday Nov. 30th. I was having one of my usual nothing days, except the weather was pristine, and warm. I had expected a visit from a friend or two who may have wanted to visit as a part of the "Holly Run" on Saturday and "Massey" on Sunday. But nobody called about that. I got a call at 4PM from my friend the Professor. He asked if I was still going to be having friends over. I said no. He said "Can I fly in anyway?" And I said absolutely but 'tis getting late. Suddenly I cared about doing something. I needed my truck to gather some firewood. I needed firewood because the Professor and I like campfires. The truck was full from another project. I hurried and emptied the truck and before I could start gathering fallen tree limbs, the 152 circled in a gorgeous sunset and I saw it land west where naked bare trees now allowed me to see the airstrip in almost winter. The light was fading and the Professor parked the Cessna and climbed in the truck and he was charged from a great flight as a cap off to a long day and long week for him. So we gathered wood as much as we could grab before dark. Then we laid a fire. Then before lighting it we ran out to dinner. (Suicide Bridge). Then a roaring fire.
Saturday morning wife had been up for hours before I rose. The Prof. still sleeping in. I made some breakfast and I opened the hangar doors and rolled out the Luscombe. It was foggy, and calm, and fairly warm. I started gathering more wood. Soon the Prof was helping me and all of a sudden it was 3:30 and getting late again. We started the Luscombe and I taxied out to go to Cambridge for fuel. Then we got visited by a couple RV's who did beautiful fly bys..... had they been on the Holly Run? I took off and headed for CGE. The Choptank River was coated with an icing of fog. The viz was down in a weird haze. I was considering turning back on a flight that was 12 miles long. My little 65hp engine started missing and my heart jumped. I pulled on the carb heat and it got rougher still but I kept the heat on and it finally cleared up. The Prof had taken off also, but decided to just fly two circuits. I got my fuel and had help with a prop start and was on my way home. I took off and flew all the way home with the carb heat on. It was 100 percent humidity. And I landed and left the airplane outside, and far away from our fire pit. I would be using it tomorrow anyway. I had enough light to gather more wood and lay the fire. We ordered carry out food delivered so we could just hang out in the hazy, damp night by that lovely fire. We made it an early night.
Sunday morning. I had chores to do. The wx was foggy. I was moving slow. I had to go to the store to get breakfast food and my covered dish contribution to Massey. Weather permitting.
It seemed to take forever to get launched. The Prof had planned to take his 152 to Massey, but he asked if he could come with me in the little Luscombe. So we went. The wx had cleared and it was wonderful. The pattern was a bee hive, but we snuck in one hour late and the place was packed we were triple parked.
I saw many of my friends and had a great time. We watched everyone take off. Then we had to hustle to get propped (thanks Dempsey) and get going, these days are short. Then back just in time for one pass to see if we could scare away deer, foxes, skunk, seagulls, dogs. Again I parked outside and 500 feet from the fire pit. And for the third night my friend the Prof and I had a nice campfire. A very early night as he had to leave and teach in the AM and what if there was fog....
Monday morning.... for some reason I awoke at six and couldn't go back to sleep.... so I made coffee and slugged around and watched the Prof go about his Profy, Profy day. He checked wx, skyped his GF in Norway, ate breakfast, the fog slowly lifted. He launched about nine and I was on my golfcart out by the runway saying goodbye on my Icom on 122.9. He flew out of sight in the sun and the mist.
I figured I would go back to bed. But the golfcart took me along the treeline to some brush I had been clearing. I started picking up limbs and twigs. I took off my jacket. It was almost 50 degrees already in the sun. I still had on my moccasins. I put on my work gloves. Did you ever go to a fire that burned all night and try to get it going from the coals with twigs just for the hell of it?
GAI :::::+:::::
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Ya Can't Do It All
This summer really got screwed up as far as fly-ins go. First of all, I cancelled my own fly-in due to events beyond my control. That knocked the wind out of my sails in many more ways than one. We also had a drought and heat wave. And I had family obligations. The Luscombe was supposed to go somewhere every single weekend but it did not. I did get to Greenwood twice. And got up to Sentimental Journey in the CherOHkee for a day trip. And to Horn Point and to Kentmoor in the Luscombe. And just last Saturday, Spring Hill. Which was lovely, but weather threatened away many planes from there and from the Wings and Wheels at Cambridge. The Luscombe and I snuck in and it was great. The food. The folks. Antique tractors. A live music trio. The incredible 310 prize winning Songbird. Thank you JB for your kind and talented hospitality.
Now this Saturday is three days away. I am going to Essex Skypark. It is a wonderful Big/Little Wings and Wheels. It's the best. And I had to choose. Because the same day, this Saturday has: (1.) Bethal ,Pa. which is a wonderful old timey show and fly-in. (2.) Ocean City, Nj. Air Fest. (3.) Wellsville, Pa. the big Aeronca fly-in, and (4) Martinsburg, Wv. the Air Show. I guess one just can't do it all. And Friday night, before this big Saturday, I'm taking my VW to Denton. A town near me. For another small town "cars in the park". If that's not enough, on Saturday night after Essex, I'm driving 2.5 hours to a venue on the Western Shore to see a wonderful retro rock folk country band where people are. Who know me, and some even maybe like me. I don't know if I will have the stamina to do Saturday. But at least I'll do the flying first when I am fresh. And awake.
All of this after spending six weeks of the "dog daze" doing absolutely nothing. Except maybe feeling sorry for myself. And throwing a few friends off the bus because they exhibit the same human frailties that I do.
Somehow I didn't have strength for them. And for myself. In all of that I remained thankful. Grateful. For my troubles are nothing. Lots of folks would love to have my "troubles".
When it cooled off I started eating better and moving around. That gave me the energy to care. I'm going to sell or give away a few projects. I'm going to clean up the hangar. Have a few campfires. And a big bonfire.
Look for me this fall. I'll be in jeans that are coated with grass clippings. I'll be in a black Luscombe, or a blue Beetle. And I don't know this for sure, but I expect I'll be smiling.
GAI :::::+:::::
Now this Saturday is three days away. I am going to Essex Skypark. It is a wonderful Big/Little Wings and Wheels. It's the best. And I had to choose. Because the same day, this Saturday has: (1.) Bethal ,Pa. which is a wonderful old timey show and fly-in. (2.) Ocean City, Nj. Air Fest. (3.) Wellsville, Pa. the big Aeronca fly-in, and (4) Martinsburg, Wv. the Air Show. I guess one just can't do it all. And Friday night, before this big Saturday, I'm taking my VW to Denton. A town near me. For another small town "cars in the park". If that's not enough, on Saturday night after Essex, I'm driving 2.5 hours to a venue on the Western Shore to see a wonderful retro rock folk country band where people are. Who know me, and some even maybe like me. I don't know if I will have the stamina to do Saturday. But at least I'll do the flying first when I am fresh. And awake.
All of this after spending six weeks of the "dog daze" doing absolutely nothing. Except maybe feeling sorry for myself. And throwing a few friends off the bus because they exhibit the same human frailties that I do.
Somehow I didn't have strength for them. And for myself. In all of that I remained thankful. Grateful. For my troubles are nothing. Lots of folks would love to have my "troubles".
When it cooled off I started eating better and moving around. That gave me the energy to care. I'm going to sell or give away a few projects. I'm going to clean up the hangar. Have a few campfires. And a big bonfire.
Look for me this fall. I'll be in jeans that are coated with grass clippings. I'll be in a black Luscombe, or a blue Beetle. And I don't know this for sure, but I expect I'll be smiling.
GAI :::::+:::::
Saturday, June 30, 2012
It's a Tough Call
I think I want to make a point about health care. Maybe not a point. Maybe just a hypothetical question. Perhaps not about health care , but the more general question of a society taking care of it's own. Or man's humanity to man. Or inhumanity. Bear with me, it may be a while before I get to the point. "Really Lloyd?" "What a surprise".
I have been getting some annoying calls on my cell phone. From numbers unrecognized by my contact list. You all know exactly what I mean. Of course I do not answer calls from unexpected numbers. If you answer and it is a nasty, toxic, telemarketing scheme, it can lead to more annoying calls. Or something even worse. It could be that you will find yourself the victim of a clever criminal computer scheme that winds up charging calls to your phone and the calls show up on your providers bill and the money gets routed from your provider to the criminal hacker. And it can lead to idenity theft. Because the more you fight it, the more the criminal finds out about you.
So what happens is: I don't answer these unidentified calls. Sometimes it is a legitimate call and a voice message is left for me. Fine and good. I simply label a new contact.
But if no voice message is left, and the call is repeated: of course I still never answer. But I type the number into Google. I almost always find out enough info on the number to know it is toxic. For free. Then I label that number in my contacts with the name "do not answer". The calls keep coming maybe once or twice a day, but it doesn't frustrate me quite as much because I know what it is. Immediately. And I feel as if I have some control. After a few days, or weeks, that number will give up and try someone else. It's still a pain, but not that bad. Then another toxic number will start calling and the process starts over. When I have two toxic numbers calling during the same week, that is indeed unfortunate.
I am no closer to getting to my point about health care and humanity. But let me forge on.
Lately I have been getting an even nastier type of calls. The sender has to be a devious, sadistic, son of a witch. The calls come up without a number and have the word "unavailable". I don't answer and there is no voice message left. What possible reason could the sender have except viral harrassment? Is this a young hacker who has outgrown ripping the wings off flies? So today I called my cell phone provider. I won't mention their name, but their initials are Verizon Wireless. The technology in the way they fielded my call was pretty amazing. I was put on hold after a long and arduous voice response conversation with a computer. The "on hold" part was a series of short and not so short infomercials. This went on and on. New phones. Minutes deals. Upgrades. Features. Sales. I pads. Smart phones. Video tablets. I listened to a hundred of these and they never started to repeat. I put the phone on speaker and moved it away from me far enough to stop the torture, but close enough to hear in the remote case that a human would come on the line. Finally someone did and they didn't sound like they were in India. The young lady was very nice and listened patiently for my geezer rant about the harrassing "unavailable" calls. One possible solution, she said, was changing my phone number. They would do this for free. How nice. I didn't do that because: 1. nobody would have my number 2. the bad guys could start doing the same thing to my new number! Next was "Call User Contol". With this system the phone rejects any call that is not 10 digets. So the word "Unavailable" trying to come in would be a rejection that the receiver never knows about. This costs five dollars a month. And does nothing to help about those telemarketing calls which do show a phone number, toxic as they are. I tell her to sign me up. She tells me according to her records I am due for an upgrade and she gives me a pitch I think she is reading from a script. I tell her no thanks. Even though my phone charges up and discharges way too fast: meaning battery is dying. And now and again when I hit the 5 key it feels too stiff and puts up 3 numbers on the screen in a blink. That malfunction would be a deal breaker, but the problem goes away after I fret for eight minutes.
Again, I'm no closer to the point about health care. I better get to the point or I will forget what it is.
I started thinking about my nice new Verizon service which fights off one kind of phone virus. I told my wife about it and I heard myself say something like "you know it really isn't fair that I have to pay 5 bucks a month because my phone has a germ attack and Joe Blow my neighbor has been lucky about computer calls and he doesn't have to pay 5 bucks a month." Then I stopped talking and started thinking. I would not wish these toxic calls on Joe Blow or anyone. But Joe Blow might start getting them tomorrow. I think if Verizon can stop it for me, they should stop it for everyone as part of their service.
Bing. My point. Maybe if every Verizon customer paid a penny a month we could all have the insurance against this type of call. It just comes with the phone. It's part of the phone like having a ringer. You have to have it. You can't opt out and not pay the penny a month. Everyone wants it and they don't want to even have to think about it. It's a no brainer. Once it's in the system it probably won't cost Verizon a thing. It will be a done deal. It will have the power of every single customer quietly enjoying the protection of the service.
My point Part 2. I was unlucky about getting toxic calls. Joe Blow was lucky. I've been lucky to be somewhat healthy all my life along with my wife and son. Some problems of course. I don't want to be without health coverage. There's more. I don't want any family in my country (or on the planet) to not have health care available to them. I don't want any child to not be insurable. Or have any family become bankrupt due to health expences. ANY FAMILY. ANYONE. Rich or poor. Paid up premeums or not. Black or White. Gay or not. Christian or not. Pre existing condition or not.
I'm not making a pitch for Obama care. I don't care what politician gets credit for it. This is a simple thing. First we make sure no one goes hungry in the United States. Then we make sure everyone gets the medical care and treatment they need. Period. This takes priority over having wars against countries we don't like. And wars to protect oil we think we need so some of us can get richer. I don't know a damn thing about Obama care. And I know you don't know much about it either. I don't care if they keep Obamacare or get rid of it. The Genie is out of the bottle now. If Romney wins, he won't be able to just say that our new health care system, under him, will be no Obama care. The lack of something is not something.
Yesterday my brother told me he is glad the Supreme Court upheld the Constitutionality of Obama care. He said he likes the provision that no lawyer can ever, under the system, deny someone a treatment because the lawyer has an expert witness that can say the treatment might not work, the patient might die anyway, etc. And no insurance company can put a top on the expenses that have been spent on a patient, so they get no more treatment under insurance because of the top out.
Again, I'm not selling Obama care or Obama. I don't like that Obama rammed this program thru congress in the middle of the night. But myself. I'm glad the Supreme Court upheld it too. My son is turning 24. So now we have two more years of him on our insurance. If the vote went the other way, he's on his own.
I know lots of people that really hate Obama. Hey, politics is politics. Just like religion. I'll say it again. I want EVERYONE in our country to have health insurance. And I want EVERYONE to chip in and pay for it. Whether they need it or want it or not. Just like highways and schools. It's more important than highways and schools.
46% of us like Obama. 46% of us hate his guts. So come November the 8% will decide. And Obama and Romney and every Senator and Congressman and Governor and Commisioner and Alderman and Sheriff and Dog Catcher will be kissing the behind of that 8% and promising the moon and their first born child to that 8% and spending more money than has ever been spent on an election in the history of the world on courting that 8%. It won't matter who wins. Again the Genie is out of the bottle. The system has been about money for a long time. But now the system is about and controlled by money. It won't matter who wins. The rot is too far gone. It won't matter who wins. We will still have to have a universal health care system. We already have it. We never called it universal. After all we're not socialists! But the Supreme Court has decided it's OK to have a universal system within our Democratic Republic.
I have to admit, this election is entertaining. Our country is literally "on hold". I do miss the reality show comedy of the Republican Primary. Sarah for President!
I contacted my congressman, Andrew P. Harris.
I got a message back. "Unavailable"
LLITTY ::::+::::
I have been getting some annoying calls on my cell phone. From numbers unrecognized by my contact list. You all know exactly what I mean. Of course I do not answer calls from unexpected numbers. If you answer and it is a nasty, toxic, telemarketing scheme, it can lead to more annoying calls. Or something even worse. It could be that you will find yourself the victim of a clever criminal computer scheme that winds up charging calls to your phone and the calls show up on your providers bill and the money gets routed from your provider to the criminal hacker. And it can lead to idenity theft. Because the more you fight it, the more the criminal finds out about you.
So what happens is: I don't answer these unidentified calls. Sometimes it is a legitimate call and a voice message is left for me. Fine and good. I simply label a new contact.
But if no voice message is left, and the call is repeated: of course I still never answer. But I type the number into Google. I almost always find out enough info on the number to know it is toxic. For free. Then I label that number in my contacts with the name "do not answer". The calls keep coming maybe once or twice a day, but it doesn't frustrate me quite as much because I know what it is. Immediately. And I feel as if I have some control. After a few days, or weeks, that number will give up and try someone else. It's still a pain, but not that bad. Then another toxic number will start calling and the process starts over. When I have two toxic numbers calling during the same week, that is indeed unfortunate.
I am no closer to getting to my point about health care and humanity. But let me forge on.
Lately I have been getting an even nastier type of calls. The sender has to be a devious, sadistic, son of a witch. The calls come up without a number and have the word "unavailable". I don't answer and there is no voice message left. What possible reason could the sender have except viral harrassment? Is this a young hacker who has outgrown ripping the wings off flies? So today I called my cell phone provider. I won't mention their name, but their initials are Verizon Wireless. The technology in the way they fielded my call was pretty amazing. I was put on hold after a long and arduous voice response conversation with a computer. The "on hold" part was a series of short and not so short infomercials. This went on and on. New phones. Minutes deals. Upgrades. Features. Sales. I pads. Smart phones. Video tablets. I listened to a hundred of these and they never started to repeat. I put the phone on speaker and moved it away from me far enough to stop the torture, but close enough to hear in the remote case that a human would come on the line. Finally someone did and they didn't sound like they were in India. The young lady was very nice and listened patiently for my geezer rant about the harrassing "unavailable" calls. One possible solution, she said, was changing my phone number. They would do this for free. How nice. I didn't do that because: 1. nobody would have my number 2. the bad guys could start doing the same thing to my new number! Next was "Call User Contol". With this system the phone rejects any call that is not 10 digets. So the word "Unavailable" trying to come in would be a rejection that the receiver never knows about. This costs five dollars a month. And does nothing to help about those telemarketing calls which do show a phone number, toxic as they are. I tell her to sign me up. She tells me according to her records I am due for an upgrade and she gives me a pitch I think she is reading from a script. I tell her no thanks. Even though my phone charges up and discharges way too fast: meaning battery is dying. And now and again when I hit the 5 key it feels too stiff and puts up 3 numbers on the screen in a blink. That malfunction would be a deal breaker, but the problem goes away after I fret for eight minutes.
Again, I'm no closer to the point about health care. I better get to the point or I will forget what it is.
I started thinking about my nice new Verizon service which fights off one kind of phone virus. I told my wife about it and I heard myself say something like "you know it really isn't fair that I have to pay 5 bucks a month because my phone has a germ attack and Joe Blow my neighbor has been lucky about computer calls and he doesn't have to pay 5 bucks a month." Then I stopped talking and started thinking. I would not wish these toxic calls on Joe Blow or anyone. But Joe Blow might start getting them tomorrow. I think if Verizon can stop it for me, they should stop it for everyone as part of their service.
Bing. My point. Maybe if every Verizon customer paid a penny a month we could all have the insurance against this type of call. It just comes with the phone. It's part of the phone like having a ringer. You have to have it. You can't opt out and not pay the penny a month. Everyone wants it and they don't want to even have to think about it. It's a no brainer. Once it's in the system it probably won't cost Verizon a thing. It will be a done deal. It will have the power of every single customer quietly enjoying the protection of the service.
My point Part 2. I was unlucky about getting toxic calls. Joe Blow was lucky. I've been lucky to be somewhat healthy all my life along with my wife and son. Some problems of course. I don't want to be without health coverage. There's more. I don't want any family in my country (or on the planet) to not have health care available to them. I don't want any child to not be insurable. Or have any family become bankrupt due to health expences. ANY FAMILY. ANYONE. Rich or poor. Paid up premeums or not. Black or White. Gay or not. Christian or not. Pre existing condition or not.
I'm not making a pitch for Obama care. I don't care what politician gets credit for it. This is a simple thing. First we make sure no one goes hungry in the United States. Then we make sure everyone gets the medical care and treatment they need. Period. This takes priority over having wars against countries we don't like. And wars to protect oil we think we need so some of us can get richer. I don't know a damn thing about Obama care. And I know you don't know much about it either. I don't care if they keep Obamacare or get rid of it. The Genie is out of the bottle now. If Romney wins, he won't be able to just say that our new health care system, under him, will be no Obama care. The lack of something is not something.
Yesterday my brother told me he is glad the Supreme Court upheld the Constitutionality of Obama care. He said he likes the provision that no lawyer can ever, under the system, deny someone a treatment because the lawyer has an expert witness that can say the treatment might not work, the patient might die anyway, etc. And no insurance company can put a top on the expenses that have been spent on a patient, so they get no more treatment under insurance because of the top out.
Again, I'm not selling Obama care or Obama. I don't like that Obama rammed this program thru congress in the middle of the night. But myself. I'm glad the Supreme Court upheld it too. My son is turning 24. So now we have two more years of him on our insurance. If the vote went the other way, he's on his own.
I know lots of people that really hate Obama. Hey, politics is politics. Just like religion. I'll say it again. I want EVERYONE in our country to have health insurance. And I want EVERYONE to chip in and pay for it. Whether they need it or want it or not. Just like highways and schools. It's more important than highways and schools.
46% of us like Obama. 46% of us hate his guts. So come November the 8% will decide. And Obama and Romney and every Senator and Congressman and Governor and Commisioner and Alderman and Sheriff and Dog Catcher will be kissing the behind of that 8% and promising the moon and their first born child to that 8% and spending more money than has ever been spent on an election in the history of the world on courting that 8%. It won't matter who wins. Again the Genie is out of the bottle. The system has been about money for a long time. But now the system is about and controlled by money. It won't matter who wins. The rot is too far gone. It won't matter who wins. We will still have to have a universal health care system. We already have it. We never called it universal. After all we're not socialists! But the Supreme Court has decided it's OK to have a universal system within our Democratic Republic.
I have to admit, this election is entertaining. Our country is literally "on hold". I do miss the reality show comedy of the Republican Primary. Sarah for President!
I contacted my congressman, Andrew P. Harris.
I got a message back. "Unavailable"
LLITTY ::::+::::
Sunday, June 24, 2012
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 ::::+::::
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 ::::+::::
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Luscombe
Just like the term "full circle" suggests. Here I am in the learning curve of relearning how to fly a taildragger. 44 years ago I first soloed a taildragger. It wasn't my "first solo". That was in a PA-28 nose wheel. So my first taildragger solo was a "checkout". Like one would get today. Except today one gets a taildragger endorsement in one's logbook to satisfy a regulation. Back when I first soloed that Champ when I was 18 yrs old, of course there was no endorsement required. In fact the taildragger was called a "conventional" gear airplane. Nose wheel was unconventional. I flew some other taildraggers way back then. When I was maybe twenty and in college at "Maryland". I checked out in a yellow Piper J-3. We all know that airplane. When I was a kid the words "Piper Cub" meant any small airplane. The guy who checked me out was Jeff Brinkerhoff. His dad George was a renowned pilot and barnstormer. I still remember that checkout. It was a balmy Spring day and we were bounced around and it seemed more kite-like than even the Champ. After a little airwork and 4 or 5 landings we were back on the ground. I knew I was rougher in this thing. You had to fly from the back seat, I didn't quite have the feel yet. But I was very happy when Brinkerhoff said he would like me to come back tomorrow and he would fly one pattern with me and if I was ok like my last landing today I would be signed off for solo in the cub at College Park. I came back the next day and flew with him again and he went around with me just like he said and got out and I took the plane for the rest of the hour and shot landings and tooled over the family house in Lanham. Little did I know, a few years later I would become an instructor at College Park and log 400 hours riding in the front seat of Brinkerhoff's J-3's teaching primary students how to fly. It was a huge honor to know and be friends with Brinkerhoff.
After that, I wasn't quite done with taildraggers. When I was about 25 I was working at Cumberland Airlines. I got my foot in the door there because they needed a primary instructor. Later, I got a job flying the US Mail for them. During that period I bought my first airplane. A Citabria. A 7-ECA. It was like the Champ I had flown. It was, in fact, the same airframe as the old Champ. But all dolled up by a new company called "Champion", then "American Champion". But my Citabria wasn't new. It was a bit worn. But to me it was wonderful and I could write a hundred blog posts of adventures and flights of fancy in the little 7ECA.
During one winter I guess it was 76/77 I wound up in Pittsburgh flying Air Mail and Emory Airfreight. It's too long a story to begin to tell here. What a winter. It became a huge stepping stone an my aviation career. I got 175 hours in a Beech 18T. This was a Hamilton conversion. twin beach with PT-6 turbines. Although it did not require a type rating, it was run by a two pilot crew and that was required by the contracts for mail and freight. (And you needed two guys to load the freight!) This was my first "Captain" job. This Beech was a taildragger. It was nicknamed a "Kerosene 18".
Ok. Just one more taildragger from the past. When I was 27 and 28 yrs. old I found myself flying DC-3's. I got about 400 hrs. SIC time. (Not sick time. I learned all about that at the Major Airlines) SIC second in command. Co-Pilot. Being a DC-3 copilot is an interesting job and you are too busy working to learn to be the Captain. But that's another story. I guess I got maybe 6 or 7 hundred hrs. Captain. So add in another 1100 hrs. tailwheel to my logbook.
So here I am today 30 years later I wanted to go light sport. Cheaper, no medical, simpler, back to the fun. So sell the Cher OH Key right? No I'm not ready to do that. But I wanted a light sport airplane. The hardest thing about getting what you want is figuring out what you want. I decided it had to be a 7AC Champ. It couldn't be a 7ECA, my favorite. Because it is too heavy to be a light sport. Oddly, like I said above, it is really the same airplane. I couldn't find a 7AC. They all need engine overhauls and recovering. Or they are all done like new and dolled up. Then they start at $47K if you can find one.
Usually airplanes find me. That's how I got my Citab. That's how I got my M10 Cadet. And that is how I got the Luscombe I just bought one month ago. A Lucombe for me, for my light sport plane. Luscombe was not even on my radar. I didn't think it was cool. I never paid much attention to them. I figured since I couldn't find a Champ, I'd just wind up with a J-3. They start at $40K. Anyway the Luscombe came to me from a friend who hated to get rid of it, but he had too many toys. Nice toys. Like a '56 Cessna 310 Songbird straight tail tuna tank gorgeous Oshkosh winner. So he never advertised the Luscombe. He offered it to me and I said yes. Now I own a taildragger, like my first plane. I am the "full circle pilot".
A few weeks ago another buddy who is immensely qualified gave me an hour's dual in the Luscombe. Then I started flying it solo. I'm learning to fly all over again. It has been a humbling experience. I used to be a real hotshot in taildraggers. I'll never even say that again. I could do a whole blog post about the details of the various techniques and problems that I have been working on since I started flying the Luscombe. Before I close, just let me give one example and suffice it to say I've been working at this! Every project is more difficult than you expect it to be. After getting in about 35 landings and maybe7or 8 hours in this thing, I finally got in my first "wheel landing". And I hopefully can perfect that as I go so that from now on all my crosswind landings can be wheel landings which makes it go better. Oh, and by the way I have loved every single minute of it. And the Luscombe is basically the same type of light sport classic plane as the J-3 or the Champ except it costs half as much, goes considerably faster, and is all metal.
I took it to the Horn Point fly in. And the Kentmorr fly in. And hopefully many more to come. My Cher OH kee is parked outdoors. And dirty. And not flown. And only gets attention from my nephew and his uncle. It probably thinks I don't love it anymore. But I love it very much. And I newly appreciate it's electric starter and it's nose wheel.
GAI ::::+::::
After that, I wasn't quite done with taildraggers. When I was about 25 I was working at Cumberland Airlines. I got my foot in the door there because they needed a primary instructor. Later, I got a job flying the US Mail for them. During that period I bought my first airplane. A Citabria. A 7-ECA. It was like the Champ I had flown. It was, in fact, the same airframe as the old Champ. But all dolled up by a new company called "Champion", then "American Champion". But my Citabria wasn't new. It was a bit worn. But to me it was wonderful and I could write a hundred blog posts of adventures and flights of fancy in the little 7ECA.
During one winter I guess it was 76/77 I wound up in Pittsburgh flying Air Mail and Emory Airfreight. It's too long a story to begin to tell here. What a winter. It became a huge stepping stone an my aviation career. I got 175 hours in a Beech 18T. This was a Hamilton conversion. twin beach with PT-6 turbines. Although it did not require a type rating, it was run by a two pilot crew and that was required by the contracts for mail and freight. (And you needed two guys to load the freight!) This was my first "Captain" job. This Beech was a taildragger. It was nicknamed a "Kerosene 18".
Ok. Just one more taildragger from the past. When I was 27 and 28 yrs. old I found myself flying DC-3's. I got about 400 hrs. SIC time. (Not sick time. I learned all about that at the Major Airlines) SIC second in command. Co-Pilot. Being a DC-3 copilot is an interesting job and you are too busy working to learn to be the Captain. But that's another story. I guess I got maybe 6 or 7 hundred hrs. Captain. So add in another 1100 hrs. tailwheel to my logbook.
So here I am today 30 years later I wanted to go light sport. Cheaper, no medical, simpler, back to the fun. So sell the Cher OH Key right? No I'm not ready to do that. But I wanted a light sport airplane. The hardest thing about getting what you want is figuring out what you want. I decided it had to be a 7AC Champ. It couldn't be a 7ECA, my favorite. Because it is too heavy to be a light sport. Oddly, like I said above, it is really the same airplane. I couldn't find a 7AC. They all need engine overhauls and recovering. Or they are all done like new and dolled up. Then they start at $47K if you can find one.
Usually airplanes find me. That's how I got my Citab. That's how I got my M10 Cadet. And that is how I got the Luscombe I just bought one month ago. A Lucombe for me, for my light sport plane. Luscombe was not even on my radar. I didn't think it was cool. I never paid much attention to them. I figured since I couldn't find a Champ, I'd just wind up with a J-3. They start at $40K. Anyway the Luscombe came to me from a friend who hated to get rid of it, but he had too many toys. Nice toys. Like a '56 Cessna 310 Songbird straight tail tuna tank gorgeous Oshkosh winner. So he never advertised the Luscombe. He offered it to me and I said yes. Now I own a taildragger, like my first plane. I am the "full circle pilot".
A few weeks ago another buddy who is immensely qualified gave me an hour's dual in the Luscombe. Then I started flying it solo. I'm learning to fly all over again. It has been a humbling experience. I used to be a real hotshot in taildraggers. I'll never even say that again. I could do a whole blog post about the details of the various techniques and problems that I have been working on since I started flying the Luscombe. Before I close, just let me give one example and suffice it to say I've been working at this! Every project is more difficult than you expect it to be. After getting in about 35 landings and maybe7or 8 hours in this thing, I finally got in my first "wheel landing". And I hopefully can perfect that as I go so that from now on all my crosswind landings can be wheel landings which makes it go better. Oh, and by the way I have loved every single minute of it. And the Luscombe is basically the same type of light sport classic plane as the J-3 or the Champ except it costs half as much, goes considerably faster, and is all metal.
I took it to the Horn Point fly in. And the Kentmorr fly in. And hopefully many more to come. My Cher OH kee is parked outdoors. And dirty. And not flown. And only gets attention from my nephew and his uncle. It probably thinks I don't love it anymore. But I love it very much. And I newly appreciate it's electric starter and it's nose wheel.
GAI ::::+::::
Thursday, September 29, 2011
More Third Class Blues
I was so excited when I got the word about the AOPA and EAA working together to get rid of the toxic FAA third class medical. It sounded so reasonable. Now I'm a bit worried about the commenters in our ranks. I saw a lot of negative comments about the proposal. And the proposal hasn't even been written yet. The negative commenters all say the same thing. They don't want any limitations put on the new "3rd class medical free" pilots. They don't want the third class to go away in a "light sport" kind of way. They want the new rules to allow the recreational pilot to fly at night, on instruments, in planes up to 6000 lbs. With as many passengers as the plane can hold. Any horsepower etc.
This group of commenters are basically in line with the petition that was written a year or so ago, that suggests that the third class is useless and we ought to get rid of it. The petition mentions the 6000 lbs.
The problem with this approach is two fold. First, it asks for too much and the FAA will not agree to it. Second, it doesn't take advantage of the "foot in the door" that the light sport rules present. If it weren't for light sport, there would be no flying at all without the medical. (except gliders, ultra light etc). We all know that the 1320 lb. restriction is hopelessly ridiculous. But it at least got rid of the 3rd class on some level. It won general aviation something it needed for a long time. I am gratefull for it. I'll get a classic light sport myself in order to keep flying.
I think we full circle pilots and basic general aviation pilots ought to get behind this AOPA/EAA proposal. If it is done with the restrictions, ala light sport, it will likely pass. And a whole bunch of guys will be all set with a whole bunch of nice airplanes.
Lets get this done in a way that the FAA can tolerate. The AOPA and EAA lawyers will know just how far to push it and get it passed.
After this gets passed, we can always ask for more.
I'm surprised we have light sport. And gratefull. Let's let our experts sell this next step to the FAA. It's got a good chance. Let's not blow it just so a very few of us can fly at night and IFR.
I'm 62 years old and have 24,000 hours. Now I want to fly for fun. Keeping IFR recency, and charts, and airplane equipment, up for filing IFR is work. Not fun. And single engine at night: On a pretty night, I admit it's fun, but I can live without it. I wouldn't do much of it anyway, for obvious reasons. The same reasons that I don't want to fly single engine IFR.
I'd rather have these planned proposal limitations to drop the 3rd class, then no new deal at all. We'll set this deal back, or kill it, if we shoot for the moon.
Goodbye 1320 lbs. I sure hope so.
GAI :::::+:::::
A Ray of Hope in Third Class Blues
Out of the AOPA Summit in Hartford just today, just now, came a big announcement. An announcement that will hopefully be a lifestyle changer for me.
The AOPA in cooperation with the EAA (that in itself is a miracle!), is putting together a proposal to be submited to the FAA after the first of the year. The proposal would eliminate the FAA 3rd class medical. It would allow all licensed pilots to fly with a drivers license for recreational purposes in the way that "light sport" pilots now fly. There will be limitations on this medically self monitored recreational flying. The limitations will be decided in the coming months for the proposal. Examples of the limitations might be: 180hp or less, 4 seats or less, one passenger only, day/VFR. We will hear a whole lot about this in the coming year.
The difference for me in having a new, rational, medical situation for recreational flying means I would keep and fly my little Cherokee which I am familiar with. And I would not have to get a light sport aircraft: which I do not want anyway, and which I would not be as safe in, and which I would likely have to hand prop, and which would require some difficulty and expense to set up with radios that I would be comfortable in using in the SFRA and other situations.
The EU and the manufaturers of new $120K light sport aircraft are not going to like this no 3rd class idea. Pilots will not be forced to buy their airplanes anymore. I'm sorry if this hurts their business. But I want them to know that I would never buy a little tiny 800 pound airplane for $120K in any circumstance, medical or not. If I see the EU and the light sport manufacturers lobbying against this new proposal, I intend to lobby against them.
This new wave of energy to rid recreational flying of the cumbersome medical requirements, which were never needed in the first place, stands to be a huge boon and savior to American General Aviation. We need this. I need this. And I know I speak for many. Anyone who has a "special issuance" knows how absurd the 3rd class really is.
Okay my post on this is almost over. I got one more thing to say.
I have read remarks made against getting rid of the 3rd class. The remarks may be from people who have something to gain from the light sport manufacturing industry. But some remarks seemed to be from regular general aviation pilots who want their fellow pilots to "able" when they share the sky. These nay sayers need to back up their senseless fears with statistics or shut the hell up. Someone with a medical certificate of any class is just as likely to be incapacitated as someone who is self certifying. And one other thing nay sayer: if you like the third class so much then just go and get a second or first class as much as you want. By the way, you will find all three classes are almost exactly the same! But stay out of our fight to keep flying. We want to fly as long as we are healthy and we want to fly all our wonderful and safe airplanes in the aging fleet such as the Cessna 172. America has the majority of General Aviation aircraft. Our fleet is old and reliable. Our pilots are old and reliable. Let's fly.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
8th Annual Fly-In at Lloyd's
The fly in was August 6th. I tried to get ready. We were in a major heat wave. So I didn't really need to mow. I patched fallen plaster. I had three tires from three different vehicles repaired or replaced. I cleaned up my stack of engineered lumber, and in the process Eric and I built eight benches. I hired Eric to work with me for about 30 hours over three weeks. We moved and painted 4 picnic tables. We decluttered the hangar and the hangar's loft. I knocked down some brush and woods to try to create what I called an "Infinity View" in the back yard. My wife and I took 4 pickup truck loads full of junk and clutter from the house to the dump over a 7 day period. The attic is still chock full. We scraped, primed and painted the northwest wall of the house. I added a bed to the man cave. My wife got us ready for eight overnight houseguests. I took my wife to dinner at CGE on Friday, a week before the fly-in in the Piper. Then the next night took Eric to dinner at GED in the Piper. We spent a whole day clearing brush. I primed and painted the hay wagon. On Thursday before the fly in my buddy Brian 3 came over and stayed a week. We extended the stage in the hangar by two and a half feet. We cleared all the storage off the stage and set up the bandstand to get it ready for Jon the drummer and light man. I had a port a potty delivered. My buddies flew in from Asheville Friday night and we started working even harder. We mowed and built a few tie downs and drank some beer. My wife's mom and her husband came in also Friday night.. I visited and kept working. I slept about three hours and got up at dawn and it was fly-in day. I mowed a parking area in the field in front. At about 11AM the planes came in. We had Trey and Janice. The quintessential fly-in attendees. They had the Luscombe. But some day they will bring in thier other plane. A classic 310. Then came an Arrow and a beautiful Saratoga. Another 172. A Decatholon. An Alon A-2 from SBY. A beautiful RV-8, and a Classic Stearman. We had wheels with the wings. We had a bike group led by my buddy Brad. There were nine BMW's from the western shore One of the BMW's was a Triumph. Two of the BMW's were Harleys. These guys are so nice and so colorful. They make any get together a phenomonon. I had two secret celebrities too. Of course, by definition, I can't tell you who they were. We wound up with eleven planes, nine motorcycles, one Quad named "night rider", a bright red Saturn Sky Turbo with the top down, which was a big hit on the flight line.
Over eighty people. Most of the kids went swimming and the pool seemed perfect, thanks to my wife who overhauled the robot vacuum and tweaked up the chemicals. Rain threatened all day but never came. Folks from far away like Hancock and Philly started heading out and the bikes rolled down the driveway. The airplanes said goodbye with a flair and a fly-by. The Stearman and the Asheville airplane stayed tucked in for the night. As the sun went down I finally got some takers on my hay wagon ride. With my mentor Steve driving the old International we had a nice cool ride with the moon coming up big and deer at the treeline. We had about twenty people on that wagon. When we got back, we turned on the stage. And Jon's Disco Billy neon train wreck lights. There were three real musicians there: Jon, Gary, and Mikey. And some open mike hogs like yours truly. They played some great blues. I got to sing some ballads. I guess about twelve folks stayed over and we were in the pool to the wee hours. They got me up on Sunday morning and I was a zombie. Another three hour night's sleep. We took two planes and two cars over to CGE and we all ate at Kay's. The Stearman and the Cessna fueled up and we watched them head west in the 9AM, humid already, 80 degree air. Wife and Brian 3 and I drove home. "What are you going to do now Lloyd?"
"Sleep and then swim."
GAI :::::+:::::
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Smoketown
We got a late start yesterday on going up to Smoketown. We arrived at 1PM or so. It was winding down. The weather wasn't pretty. There had been 180 airplanes in attendance. That's a lot despite the weather. We didn't see much. We had our $200 hamburger and went home. I saw a beaver. Not a De Havilland. A little critter that scooted along the ramp when we were refueling. We got delayed about an hour waiting out a thunderstorm. Then there was this lovely flight home with the atmosphere washed clean and everything green. We landed at home and for the first time ever I was in the back seat of my CherOHkee for a landing.
I was not to see the 180 airplanes. I was not to get my free T shirt I had registered for. I was not to get much in the way of food. I was not to see many of my friends. But after my two buddies and I landed here at home we went into the hangar and had a drink and sat around and talked, I was very happy indeed. We had parked our two little sports cars right next to eachother in the hangar and had ample room when we rolled in the CherOHkee. It never fit like that before. But I had cleaned house in the hangar and made it bigger somehow. Smoketown wasn't a bust at all. Being with my two good pilot friends made it a very good day indeed. I think you make your own good days. A fancy fly in can't make you happy. You make you happy. I still havn't gotten back to normal since our fly-in here. That was eight days ago. That fly-in got me motivated to de clutter a bit around here. And work toward a goal. That enabled me to make myself happy.
Be happy my friends.
LloydLou.com
GA Informal :::::+:::::
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Full Circle Part 1
The term "full circle pilot" has been showing up in the Aviation magazines. I started noticing it about a month ago. It refers to a pilot who has worked in aviation and/or flown lots of airplanes and is now giving up his medical to fly smaller airplanes under the "Light Sport" rules. He is downsizing to 1320 lbs gross weight. 1320 lbs. That's a small airplane. For comparison, the venerable Cessna 150 is 1600 lbs gross weight. The smallest trainer in the industry is now too "heavy" to train light sport pilots. Oh, also, the 150 is too complex! Yes it's too complex. The 150 has flaps. A "Light Sport" can not have flaps.
The full circle pilots are a big part of the Light Sport industry. In Light Sport, instead of an FAA Medical Certificate, the airman simply uses his drivers license. So the full circle pilot uses his regular pilots license and needs no FAA medical. There is one "gotcha" here. The full circle pilot must "give up" his FAA Medical by letting it expire. He can not fly under Light Sport if his medical is under denial.
OK, you know all this and what is my point. Believe me there are lots and lots of points. I could write ten blog posts about this. For now I'll make my point. Lately there has been talk about a grass roots movement to get rid of the FAA 3rd Class Medical. The FAA has agreed to look into it. I don't hold out any hopes for it. The FAA never "relaxes" any of it's rules. But the FAA is in the process of losing funding and it's budget has been only approved on a month to month basis. Everyone wants the 3rd class to go away.
Almost everyone. The makers of new "Light Sport" airplanes do not want the third class to go away. Their customers who buy new "light sport" aircraft are buying little fiberglass European planes that start at $120K. Little planes that weigh 800 lbs empty and can carry only two people. Take away the 3rd class and all the "full circle pilots" and the upstart pilots are going to go back to looking at all the used airplanes in this buyers market. I'm a full circle candidate. I could keep my CherOHkee. Some guy starting out could buy a Cessna 152 and upgrade in a year or two to a 172 and on and on. It's possible that very few folks would buy the little airplanes that weigh 1320 lbs. when we American's have an aging fleet of wonderful airplanes. Here's my point. The "Light Sport" industry is claiming that the FAA Medical has nothing to do with their industry. It's all about fuel efficiency and cheaper flying for student starts and easier requirements. So at the same time they are saying that the FAA 3rd Class has nothing to do with their industry, they are lobbying to see that the FAA doesn't get rid of the 3rd class! Because it has everything to do with their industry!
I'm a geezer full circle pilot. I will go Light Sport eventually. But if they get rid of the 3rd class and I get a Tri Pacer, will I remember how to use flaps? . . . . GAI :::::+:::::
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sun n Fun over: the Season Begins at Massey
I got to go over to Massey this last Saturday as was planned. The weather was excellent. I rolled out the Cher OH kee, and alas , it was covered with bird droppings. I have a nest of doves in my lean-to. And I have a variety of birds in the rafters of the hanger. My wife does not want me to harm them. I did a nice job cleaning the windshield, but that was it. I was surprised that there were no birds nests in the airplane. I took off in a pretty good breeze from the north. The skies were cloudy, but trying to clear up. I stopped at Bay Bridge to pick up my buddy and I bought 16 gallons of fuel. We had a lovely ride up to Massey and the parking was really directed nicely, and they had a ground boss on 122.9 in a golf cart. They sorted the airplanes as they came in, and we were put in a line of low wings. There were about 7 or 9 "RV's", all beautiful of course, and they were all in a line. Me and my buddy got the plane secured and headed for the food. This is what we do! They had pots and pots of different chili. I found a pot I liked and systematically ate three bowls. On the last bowl I wandered away from the hangar and the ramp and the planes. I went behind the compound where there are these wrecks and parts piles and junk fuselages and such. I didn't go close to the stuff but I looked it over. I stayed by myself a little while and soaked up the "essence" of the fly-in. Does that sound crazy? The whole place is kind of set up for one to look at. They have a museum which is fairly new and has more each time I see it. They have a DC-3, which is mostly a shell, but has potential. They have some old sailplanes, which they fly. They have a Corsair on a pole as a gate guard which is a big visual statement. They have a working US Gov't, CAA, WW2 or post war, beacon light. With it's own original tower. It was turned on. It looked to me like about 70 or 80 planes came in and out. Maybe more. A great turn out, considering GA is almost dead. My favorite thing was this Curtis Pusher. It was a perfect brand new replica of a circa 1910 biplane that the famous racer and pilot Glen Curtis flew. They flew this plane twice at the end of the day. It was great. It flew low and slow. Like the Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines. My friend the professor flew in in his 152. He's not big on fly-ins, so he's a hard sell. But he was glad he came. He was really interested in the not one, but two, Cessna 195's. They were very pristine. I saw my friends who have a pretty Luscombe and they are experts at going to fly-ins. Large or small. Near or far. Trey, Janice, sorry I hardly got to talk to you guys. But the season is young. Don't you love it? Horn point in two weeks or so. Then a fly-in or event every single weekend through September. I can not afford the gas to go to each one. Brian and I were about the last to leave. It was so nice he decided to overfly Bay Bridge and have a campfire with myself and the professor and Jaker the dog. The winds were calm. The sun was slowly setting. The professor took his airplane back out to just fly a little tour down the river and back. And shoot a few landings. Land one way....roll to the end....turn around and take off the other way. Nice when you can do it! Brian washed down my airplane because the bird do really was bad. I gathered fire wood of dead branches. We had a great fire and a great time. All good things must come to an end. The prof retired to the man cave. I gave Brian the keys to the trusty Boobaru. It felt great to go to bed. I dreamed of airliners and simulators and schedules and sitting at gates in a flight deck. Nightmares almost. (Not that I don't like airliners) But before I fell asleep I daydreamed of my little Cher OH kee. And my friends who never get tired of airplanes. And what the bay looked like in a mare's- tail sky. And that Curtis Pusher with spoked wheels and pennants flying from the struts between the wings. And the guy flying at about 30 mph. My real life was more like a dream than my sleeping dream.
Thanks for reading. The season is afoot. I'll see you at Horn Point. Remember, I'm pullin' for ya. Keep your stick on the ice. GA Informal :::::+:::::
Friday, April 8, 2011
You Can't get There from Here
As Sun n Fun approached I just figured that I would not go. I havn't been since I retired. While I was working for the airline (my former suffering is fading from mind), I would simply jump on a flight to Tampa from Detroit, instead of coming home that week. I planned it every year with vacation days. Another nice option was "jump seat" on Southwest from BWI to Tampa and back. Sometimes it was down out of Detroit and back to BWI on Southwest. My "jump seat" days are over. I've discovered that in getting older, not having jump seat privileges is the least of my problems! I really don't want to go anywhere. Anyway, I am no stranger to Sun n Fun. I had been toying with the idea of going of course. My wife kept suggesting that I go. "You should go" she said. "You really ought to go"....."Just go!". She remembers the years when I worked three trips a month and was gone and she could relax with the animals in her house by herself. She always welcomed me back. But was ready in a day or two for me to go back out. So if wife wants me to go to Sun n Fun......well. There was another factor. My mentors Steve and Malcolm ( the Pep Boys) were driving down to Lakeland from Frederick! 1000 miles. While I was pulling up flight information on Thursday, and making listings of possible city pairs so that I could travel stand by, there came yet another factor. A storm ripped through the LAL airport. A Micro Burst with 85mph winds and a tornado swath 60 feet wide. 70 aircraft damaged or destroyed. The parking lots under water. The jiffy johns tossed over like lawn chairs. So I had finally decided to go and now I wasn't going? Late Thursday night it's back on. The weather for Friday, Saturday and Sunday is to be excellent. The Fly-in will re open on Friday. I pass ride to Memphis. But the flights to Orlando and Tampa are oversold. I sneak on the Jacksonville flight with just about the last seat. I rent a car and head for Orlando. I am 4 hours ahead of the Pep Boys on I95. My mission is to get us a cheap hotel with enough bed space for the three of us. I get settled into the room but I am too tired and excited to sleep. So I kill some time in touristy Orlando. I go to a "Gentleman's" bar. I spend my Airshow budget in the first 30 minutes. My beers are $10. Soon I head back to the hotel with my $120 T shirt smelling of stale tobacco and beer. The Pep boys arrive and we get 4 hours sleep. In the morning we pick up the Pep boys friend, the attractive, acclaimed, world traveled, lady doctor with the CFII and titles. honors, and degrees. I felt honored to ride in the same car with her from Orlando to Lakeland. She would breeze through the fly-in and be on her way back to her dynamic life.
The weather was pristine for the show Saturday and Sunday. Twice we saw the Blue Angels. Twice we saw "Heavy Metal" the L-39 team. Twice we saw the amazing F-22 Raptor. And we saw the standards. All the Airshow circuit stars. And Sunday the Fly-in was not crowded. I got to talk to venders in the big buildings for the first time ever. It's usually too crowded. And it's usually too hot. I ate the famous obligatory Strawberry Shortcake. I bought cups of diet Coke at $3 a pop. I wanted to see everything and I wanted to buy everything. Instead of a T shirt (my friend Steve, Pep boy 1, has over 400 T- shirts- each with a real story) I bought a Gizmo. I want to panel mount my portable GPS and this thing is a dock for my little G196. A poor man's glass cockpit! Sunday night the big Carnival was all over. And my chances of pass riding on a Sunday night back to BWI were slim to none. I did what I figured I would have to do. I crawled into the Pep Boys' roller skate 35mpg car for the fourteen hour drive to Frederick. That was OK because these guys are my mentors and just like older brothers. I have known them since I was 13 years old. I never thought I could even do Lakeland again. Let alone a road trip like that. Back at Rosewind on Tuesday, I unpacked my satchel and threw the clothes in the wash. I picked up the nasty T shirt from the sleazy Cabaret and smelled it before I tossed it in the soapy machine. I smiled. Sun n Fun 2011 will be remembered as an eventful fly-in due to the big storm. I'm gonna remember it too. :::::+::::: Gen Av Informal
PS............A special thanks to Ken and Donna for putting me up. Or should I say putting up with me. On Saturday night. Love you guys. See you next year? :::::+::::: GAI
Sunday, March 20, 2011
My Worlds Collide
My little CherOHkee has been home ten days. And it's been real nice weather. I finally got around to taking it flying today. The weather is supposed to be rainy for the next 5 days. Wife and I had been talking about going to Georgetown, Del. all week. So when we took off today I started heading for Georgetown. She asked where I was going as I climbed out to the east. I said "oops" and turned around to head for Cambridge. I have an excuse for this kind of thing. I am a geezer.
I have two blogs. This blog is just about Gen Av. The other blog is all the rest of my absent minded ravings. The blogs sometimes collide. As when I talked about the Livingston Taylor concert we saw.....and he is a Gen AV. pilot. Or when I was at a fly-in and wound up singing a Karaoke song. My occasional rants about religion have now ironically collided with this blog. And brought my crazy writing life full circle. The Horn Point fly in is one of the big aviation events of the year for me. Just yesterday I was working at Horn Point as a volunteer maintaining the field. The Horn Point- fly in is coming May 21st. Two months from now. The end of the world is scheduled for that day as well! No kidding. There is an official "end of the world" predicted for that day. The believers are "Family Radio", led by bible scholar Harold Camping. Thousands of people believe they will be raised into the heavens to be with Jesus and God. On the day that I plan on flying the CherOHkee the 15 NM over to Horn Point to hang out, look at some antiques, see old friends and have a hamburger. Talk about having different plans for a Saturday! Of course I might get rained out with Horn Point. And the "Rapture" might not come that day. But it's a new ball game for me because now I have an amusing thing to talk about as Horn Point approaches. I like fly-ins and I like religious "ironies".
Today wife and I had the $50 hamburger at CGE. The restaurant was crazy crowded. We joined a stranger when we finally got a table. He was a great guy. We both have a son out west. We both have Pipers. I mentioned the $50 hamburger cliche. He said his meal was an $80 hamburger. I told him he must be pretty rich with that beautiful, bodacious, Malibu parked outside. He said "I have a Malibu, I used to be rich".
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Bring it Home
My airplane came out of the shop the other day. So I had to go and pick it up. Wife could take me of course. And we could have a nice lunch too. But I wanted to go and make a few stops and take my time checking out the plane and paying the bill. And I didn't want wife to have to wait. She was busy anyway. So I took myself in the Subaru. And parked it to pick up in a day or two. It's kind of fun that way. We can still have that nice lunch maybe tomorrow. The CherOHkee had been there almost all winter. It got an annual. And it needed some engine work, a couple of cylinders pulled down, and it was poked and prodded by the mechanics. A couple repairs, a couple AD's. The cost was about twice that off a "normal" annual. But I never get a "normal" annual. Every year I think I have made the final big repair and she should be good to go for several years. But it's tough when the airplane is 42 years old. So you could say I've bought the airplane all over again. At least. Any light plane owner has more invested than he can get back out by selling the plane. But she sure ran well. I did a ridiculously complete preflight and run-up when I picked her up. It's getting easier and easier for me to forget things. Little things. Big things. So I wanted to keep track of the keys, the logbooks, the ships papers. The chocks, the control lock etc. And it was a fair weather Friday afternoon. A few planes were leaving and a few arriving and one in the pattern doing circuits. General Aviation is dying but at least it's still going on. I took my time and let an Arrow take the runway while I sat in the small run-up block by the highway. We just used hand signals like "go ahead" and thumbs up. Even though we both had radios. When I was warmed up and the pattern got quiet, I took off. I wanted to see the engine run smooth and a good static rpm. I held the brakes with full throttle and saw what I wanted. Took off to the west over the bay shoreline. I left in full throttle. 85 mph is best rate on the little CherOHkee. With flaps up. I kept full throttle to 2500 ft. I pitched it back to 80mph. It was cool outside and the airplane was well below gross. It yeilded me about 1000 fpm By the time I got settled into a nice little "run it hard" cruise. I found myself pointing the airplane at Cambridge instead of my place. I had considered Cambridge before as my strip was a little soft. But now I was going there because I didn't want my time with 009 to end in fifteen minutes. The restaurant was open. I sat where I could look at my plane through the large windows. I ate Chili and drank diet coke. I went back to the airplane and looked it over and checked the engine for leaks. All was fine. It would get dark soon. I took off and scooted over the Choptank and the Suicide Bridge. And the Veterans Cemetery. Landed west at my place and tried to skate pretty light over a couple of soft spots. I got a few splots of mud on my stabilator. Parked in front of the shed. Then I spent the next two hours clearing out an airplane shaped space to park in. It was fun actually. It was my own toys and junk that I was moving around. Except for a few things that belong to Grandaddy. I saw a thousand hangar projects that need doing. I got the plane tucked in and put to bed. I closed the hangar doors. It was nice to have the airplane home. Next mission. Have wife drive me back to where I left my car. We will do that tomorrow and eat on the island. GA Informal. :::::+:::::
Bartel Part 2
In the summer of '66 I had just turned 17. My senior year was coming in the fall. The most exciting thing in my life was that I had a drivers license. I had no car, and limited access to the family car. I rode a bicycle. I was a paperboy. I mowed lawns in the neighborhood. I hadn't ever been away from home for more than one week. I had never kissed a girl. Strangely, all I could think about was girls. During this mundane innocent summer I was to go from a student pilot with not one logged hour to a pilot with 40 hours and a federal Private Pilot's license. I was in the blazing 90 degree heat of South Carolina. Six teenagers in each hotel room. No girls. A blue surplus Air Force school bus to drive us to and from the hotel. A World War II aerodrome with it's classic triangular shape and obligatory clumps of sod growing up through the tarmac. I ate grits for the first time in my life. The sixty of us were dressed in fatigue uniforms with combat boots and silly hats. We would have looked like prisoners had we not had colorful patches and emblems and ranks and insignia. The civilian instructors took one look at us and changed the uniform: Lose the silly hat and baseball caps are optional. Lose the combat boots. Wear tennis shoes. (they were called sneakers). Lose the fatigue shirt(it was called a blouse). So our new uniform was a clean white T shirt, fatigue pants, and tennis shoes. We were there to fly, not drill. I knew no one there. Except Bartel. Bartel was the first kid launched. He was the first kid to solo. Every instructor took a turn flying with him. He was a legend by the third day. Due to alphabetical order, I could not room with Bartel. My five roomates were animals. Teenagers can be mean children. I was glad I was on a rollaway instead of one of the double beds. These guys were gross. But I learned a lot when they talked about girls. I was afraid I would be the last cadet to solo, but as usual, I was somewhere in the middle. As I have always been. I would see Bartel during the day at school. We would get sessions to study in the air conditioned trailer. This would be when I could talk to Bartel. It was like he was at a different flying encampment than I. I would ask about his five roommates. He would just say what fine gentlemen and pilots they were. That they would study together and write letters home and play chess. Bartel wasn't sweating in the heat. I was dying. Bartel also wasn't sweating the big graduation checkride. I was permanently nervous. And I did fear that my roommates would kill me for the fun of it some night. One day we were leaving the hotel on the Air Force school bus as usual. But Bartel, my seventeen year old classmate was driving the bus. I thought I must be dreaming. This is impossible. Cadets don't drive cadets in any vehicle! Against regulations! Lawsuits! Training requirements! Maybe I was just tired and nervous. I got out of my seat and walked up to the front of the bus. Maybe it was just an adult who looked like Bartel. After all, Bartel looks like and acts like an adult. But it was Bartel and I was saying how the heck do you get to drive the bus? But he told me we should talk about it later because I should be seated while the bus is in motion. Damn it Bartel! When I had my free study sessions in the air conditioned trailer I usually put my head on the desk to sleep. I was going through a growth spurt. I was five eleven going on six foot one. Bartel would study in the trailer. When I would look at what he was studying, it would be aerodynamics, or instrument flying. I was tired of the lunch sandwiches we were eating. White bread and peanut butter. Or white bread, peanut butter, and banana. I had never had that. I complained to Bartel about lunch. He said he'd been eating chicken salad mostly because he had access to the instructors cooler and also the cadets rations had some chicken and tuna which ran out fast, but his roommate was in charge of that. He told me the hotel gave him an apple and/or orange every day too. You just had to ask for it. I just said, "Damn it Bartel". I had learned to cuss. Also, I had started smoking. Actually I had been smoking since I was eight years old. But I just blew the smoke out without inhaling. But now I was inhaling. One cigarette a day with the five roommates. These guys were Neanderthals. Bartel was the first Cadet of the Encampment to take his checkride and be issued an FAA temporary Private Pilot Certificate. He didn't just bask in the glory and now goof off and drive the bus and go to town. He still had a week or more for the rest of us to get checkrides. He helped some cadets with their pre lesson reviews. But he started hanging out at the other end of the field where the gliders were. He was trying to get a ride in the tow plane or possibly a check out. But that wasn't going to fly, even for Bartel. But he got some access to money from home, which must have been tough as he is one of nine children and his parents had already paid his room and board for five weeks in Carolina. He started taking lessons in the two seat Schweitzer glider. There was a Cadet program going on for gliders. You could tell a glider Cadet by his scarf. A Cadet in the glider solo school might have a red scarf. A blue scarf would designate a glider student in the glider private certificate program. Graduate helpers might have a white scarf. We called them scarfs, actually they were bandannas. You couldn't wear a scarf in the heat. The heat that we suffered from was the same heat that was generating these huge invisible columns of air that started at the hot ground and slowly at first rose into the cooler air aloft. Thermals. That was all these glider kids talked about. In their kerchiefs. Thermals can be somewhat predictable and this area in South Carolina was known for its Thermals. Because a huge high pressure system would stabilize the air over the variably heated ground and create a cycling thermal machine until a new weather front would come and chase it all away. It is called the "Bermuda High". After it's source. Some of these glider kids were 15 years old. You only have to be 14 to solo a glider. As I got near my checkride I was only flying once a day. We would "rehearse" the checkride. So I would have time to hang out at the glider tents, and once in a while I would walk a wing, or go fetch a tow rope, or get the tow pilot a coke. Also some Maryland kids had shown up for glider school. And Bartel was there and he had a bandanna on. I had to ask him about that. It was green and white or something. He told me he was a special category. A Cadet graduate renter. A graduate renter? Damn it Bartel. When Bartel had his first solo in the glider I happened to be hanging out in my usual spot in the glider area. So we were watching because he was our powered school ace. So he gets towed up on his first solo. At about 400 feet the tow plane's engine revs, then sputters and quits. The prop stops cold. The tow pilot pulls his release to get rid of the glider and the rope. He turns a bit to stay over the field and gets the super cub down with a bounce and a good job, on another runway. Out of gas. Bartel found himself in the emergency for which he had just been practicing. 400 feet is enough altitude to turn the glider around and come in downwind. We all watched this and it started to look like Bartel was headed for us as he started getting set up and maybe overshooting a bit. So again I was in a dream. Was it in slow motion? Was I delerious from the heat? Cadets were running around pushing sailplanes further back toward the tents yelling things like "it's Bartel, he's downwind comin in" "He's gonna hit us" "he's gonna crash!" Bartel got lined up, dropped the rope like a pro and set the lumbering "222" down like a feather. He was mobbed like Lindburg and when I finally got to talk to him all I could say was "Damn it Bartel". My checkride came and I was so nervous I was afraid I wouldn't remember anything. And Ray Clark was the examiner. He ran the flight school. Everyone revered him. For some reason he liked me. It wasn't because I was any kind of ace like Bartel. But somewhere around day 10 of the school Ray Clark was flying over to Greer which was a big control tower field at Greenville SC. I was admiring his brand new Cherokee Six. This was before there were "Lances" and "Saratogas". Ray Clark asked if I wanted to go with him. I said yes and he stuck me in the left seat. This thing had radios and an autopilot and a controllable propeller. This was way better than eating dust with the glider kids, or sleeping in the trailer. I was Bartel for a day. But now it was time for Ray Clark to give me my checkride. It went well. He spent time giving me touch and goes and short and soft and go arounds. That was the stuff I loved, and I was OK with. Where I was weak was in navigation, chart pilotage, etc. As soon as I would leave the pattern I would be "almost lost". So I got my Temporary Airman Certificate. And I was not the last guy to get it. Now I had a few days free, and could hang out with the glider guys etc. Bartel had made arrangements with the school to rent one of the trainers and he wanted me to go flying with him but he wanted me to share in the rental. I was pretty much broke. He was taking this kid "Johnny Hutchins" who was about 9 years old. The kid was a local. He would hang out every day. Bartel put Johnny Hutchins in the right seat and me in the back. We took off and cruised around. Bartel wanted to show me this quarry and lake that he liked to fly over. We circled it for a while and then he buzzed it right on the deck. I was scared. Scared of crashing and scared of getting in trouble. But Bartel seemed calm enough. We landed and Bartel didn't rent the plane any more. And Johnny went home. And Bartel asked me if I thought he got too low over the quarry, and if I thought anyone would turn us in. I said "Damn it Bartel".
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