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lyleedda(at)telus.net
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 Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2006 5:20 pm Post subject: Dumb things I have done |
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Where shall I start ? How far back shall I go ? How many times have my wings tilted up enough to avert the Big Sleep ?
How long have I kept the secrets to myself alone ?
Strangely, it is from my old instructors whom I feel the wrath would hurt me most.
Not my spouse, not my heirs, not the FAA, but me, and my old instructors, all of whom were scarred by their own brushes with real fate and , in some cases , combat, that I felt the most betrayal of common sense.
My first, I think, was my cross country in low cloud and rain, where 5 of us took off, and 4 returned, and I pressed on, turned the 60 mile mark and came home.
Not to congratulation, but to scorn and abuse for monumental stupidity.
But then, you see, we had just lost a student from Holland who killed himself whilst teaching himself aerobatics, and Reg, his instructor was still cut up inside with the shock and the task of the writing of the letter. So, you see, he was not in the mood for risk takers, lest he suffer another hurtful memory.
These guys were, to a man, the salt of the Earth, most former combat pilots who could not say good bye to flying, but would take a job instucting on 100 horses only, and happily bonk you on the head for a mistake, the better to drive home a lesson in fate and gravity...and stupidity.
Well, I tried once to take off with the tail still tied down, also taxiing once with the noise of the tow bar still in place to signal me that pre flight was not done.
OH, and landing at night at an unlighted strip with car lights showing the way as to where home was....this with 3 other sods on board who had been imbibing.
How ungracious my exit from the cabin when all the contents of my shirt pocket fell at the feet of the instructor who wondered how I could be gone for 6 hours on four hour tanks.
To this day I mourn the loss of those aviator glasses.
Lest I forget, there was the time at dusk in the San Joaquin when I had to land quickly, and by grace, found a movie lot strip with sage brush kissing the wing tips on rollout.
My sleepmates that night were a couple of horses who shared the hay and munched and farted contentedly, and did not step on me once....gentle souls...
The tower guys at San Jose were wonderful to me when I ran after the " follow me " jeep and up 4 stories to arrive breathless and unable to speak to answer as to why I had landed on the taxi way...another student from Hayward in the big city and jet traffic who cannot remember their call sign but say "Roger" to everything, including a request from tower to do a 180, crash and burn "......yes, I did it all.
Almost taxied in front of a DC3 taking off in Oregon .....flew into Mexico with a pal who always begged to be landed, fed, and reassured, but to his credit, never questioned my navigation, my flying, nor choice of sleeping with horses.
Folks at San Luis Obispo took us home and fed us merely because we let their 4 year old ride along the taxiway with us while we picked a parking spot.
They thought we were students about to enroll at college rather than the scruff wanderers we really were....and foreigners at that.
Every stop we made, people astounded us with their trust and generosity, giving us the airport car, and dinner at home, though sadly, never a night with daughter.
Our poor underpowered mount which could not beat the 18 wheelers on the interstate, nor the mountains of Mexico, made the choice to continue by Super Connie of Aeronaves an easy choice to make.
Doe eyed hostesses and a wonderful meal made me want to become Spanish, if only for long enough to understand what " I love you " sounds like in Latin flavor.
Homeward bound was free of stupid choices other than to test how long one could remain aloft on fumes, and deciding when, in heavy rain, it was time to do a 180.
We were greeted at home base by a man who owned the school and was a near legend for his service days.
Smiling and most forgiving of confessions and a pat on the head and a wish that you live and learn....few like him walk this way...
I learned a few years later that upon his demise while flying something, the main airport road now bears his name.
But my dumb ways were not over yet, because me, myself, alone, landed at the $100 hamburger heaven as very low cloud and fog slowly overcame the field.
After the lunch was done and time to head out, was just a bit horrified to find the system had moved in and taken half the field.
With the last half of the strip still open, the RV taxied into the murk and lined up for a run to the open.
Should have known that the RV would be airborne so quickly, being light on gas, weight, and my brains, and was up and into the mist with no gyros.
Climbing with needle and ball and airspeed and compass, I knew I would break out soon, but it was a very long soon, for here, I thought, be oblivion.
How is it that old lessons can stay with you, unused for decades, and guide you to salvation ?
It was the old Air Force instructors, gone now, but with me still, a clap on the head, and forcing me to keep focus.
So there you have it, sins committed and confessed and probably a few more in the recesses of the logbook.
That book with names of girls not spoken of for 50 years, instructors who are faces long gone, place names of happy times and adventures, and an old photo in the folds of the licence so hard won that shows my face as it was so long ago and is not the one I recognize in the mirror....
"Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady , Laddie " ! were the words old Reg sent me solo with....and I can hear them still !
Regards,
Austin.
do not archive
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klwerner(at)comcast.net
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| Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2006 6:42 pm Post subject: Dumb things I have done |
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Hi Austin,
I took the liberty to actually archive this fine writing of yours! Please forgive me, ...but I will bear any and all consequences!
Konrad
Subject: Dumb things I have done
Where shall I start ? How far back shall I go ? How many times have my wings tilted up enough to avert the Big Sleep ?
How long have I kept the secrets to myself alone ?
Strangely, it is from my old instructors whom I feel the wrath would hurt me most.
Not my spouse, not my heirs, not the FAA, but me, and my old instructors, all of whom were scarred by their own brushes with real fate and , in some cases , combat, that I felt the most betrayal of common sense.
My first, I think, was my cross country in low cloud and rain, where 5 of us took off, and 4 returned, and I pressed on, turned the 60 mile mark and came home.
Not to congratulation, but to scorn and abuse for monumental stupidity.
But then, you see, we had just lost a student from Holland who killed himself whilst teaching himself aerobatics, and Reg, his instructor was still cut up inside with the shock and the task of the writing of the letter. So, you see, he was not in the mood for risk takers, lest he suffer another hurtful memory.
These guys were, to a man, the salt of the Earth, most former combat pilots who could not say good bye to flying, but would take a job instucting on 100 horses only, and happily bonk you on the head for a mistake, the better to drive home a lesson in fate and gravity...and stupidity.
Well, I tried once to take off with the tail still tied down, also taxiing once with the noise of the tow bar still in place to signal me that pre flight was not done.
OH, and landing at night at an unlighted strip with car lights showing the way as to where home was....this with 3 other sods on board who had been imbibing.
How ungracious my exit from the cabin when all the contents of my shirt pocket fell at the feet of the instructor who wondered how I could be gone for 6 hours on four hour tanks.
To this day I mourn the loss of those aviator glasses.
Lest I forget, there was the time at dusk in the San Joaquin when I had to land quickly, and by grace, found a movie lot strip with sage brush kissing the wing tips on rollout.
My sleepmates that night were a couple of horses who shared the hay and munched and farted contentedly, and did not step on me once....gentle souls...
The tower guys at San Jose were wonderful to me when I ran after the " follow me " jeep and up 4 stories to arrive breathless and unable to speak to answer as to why I had landed on the taxi way...another student from Hayward in the big city and jet traffic who cannot remember their call sign but say "Roger" to everything, including a request from tower to do a 180, crash and burn "......yes, I did it all.
Almost taxied in front of a DC3 taking off in Oregon .....flew into Mexico with a pal who always begged to be landed, fed, and reassured, but to his credit, never questioned my navigation, my flying, nor choice of sleeping with horses.
Folks at San Luis Obispo took us home and fed us merely because we let their 4 year old ride along the taxiway with us while we picked a parking spot.
They thought we were students about to enroll at college rather than the scruff wanderers we really were....and foreigners at that.
Every stop we made, people astounded us with their trust and generosity, giving us the airport car, and dinner at home, though sadly, never a night with daughter.
Our poor underpowered mount which could not beat the 18 wheelers on the interstate, nor the mountains of Mexico, made the choice to continue by Super Connie of Aeronaves an easy choice to make.
Doe eyed hostesses and a wonderful meal made me want to become Spanish, if only for long enough to understand what " I love you " sounds like in Latin flavor.
Homeward bound was free of stupid choices other than to test how long one could remain aloft on fumes, and deciding when, in heavy rain, it was time to do a 180.
We were greeted at home base by a man who owned the school and was a near legend for his service days.
Smiling and most forgiving of confessions and a pat on the head and a wish that you live and learn....few like him walk this way...
I learned a few years later that upon his demise while flying something, the main airport road now bears his name.
But my dumb ways were not over yet, because me, myself, alone, landed at the $100 hamburger heaven as very low cloud and fog slowly overcame the field.
After the lunch was done and time to head out, was just a bit horrified to find the system had moved in and taken half the field.
With the last half of the strip still open, the RV taxied into the murk and lined up for a run to the open.
Should have known that the RV would be airborne so quickly, being light on gas, weight, and my brains, and was up and into the mist with no gyros.
Climbing with needle and ball and airspeed and compass, I knew I would break out soon, but it was a very long soon, for here, I thought, be oblivion.
How is it that old lessons can stay with you, unused for decades, and guide you to salvation ?
It was the old Air Force instructors, gone now, but with me still, a clap on the head, and forcing me to keep focus.
So there you have it, sins committed and confessed and probably a few more in the recesses of the logbook.
That book with names of girls not spoken of for 50 years, instructors who are faces long gone, place names of happy times and adventures, and an old photo in the folds of the licence so hard won that shows my face as it was so long ago and is not the one I recognize in the mirror....
"Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady , Laddie " ! were the words old Reg sent me solo with....and I can hear them still !
Regards,
Austin.
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schybolt(at)verizon.net
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| Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2006 7:11 pm Post subject: Dumb things I have done |
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THANKS, AUSTIN. I ENJOYED THAT.
DO NOT ARCHIVE
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Bill Schlatterer
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