Horn Point Revisited 2009

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

One Double A

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

Old CFI's like me need to relearn basics

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

a great day

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

boss the plane!

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

it's always about me

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

Shelley Fabares

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