Tales from the Log of the Ruptured Duck
- Thread starter Kayak Jack
- Start date
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Sorry, Bob, though yesterday was an OK day for flying, it slipped right on past the Duck. Fridays are normally dedicated to socializing with friends. We had breakfast with a WWII vet, and lunch with another. Our pilots' breakfast fielded 9 folks, even with lots of competing events. Last weekend of July has lots of things going on.
Oshkosh, world's largest gathering of aircraft and people is going full tilt. The Au Sable River canoe marathon starts in Grayling MI, and ends hours later in Lake Huron. Locally, about 5 miles S'ly of the airfield, is a steam engine gathering. If you haven't yet seen, heard, felt, and smelled these beasts - there's still a surprising treat in store for you.
So, yesterday slipped past the Duck. Next week, I plan to fly to Owosso Field KRNP and have lunch with a fellow who was #2 man at Bear Archery when Fred was still around. We're planning a canoe trip to the Les Cheneaux Islands. Talking that over will be good for at least a couple of hours, I figure.
Oshkosh, world's largest gathering of aircraft and people is going full tilt. The Au Sable River canoe marathon starts in Grayling MI, and ends hours later in Lake Huron. Locally, about 5 miles S'ly of the airfield, is a steam engine gathering. If you haven't yet seen, heard, felt, and smelled these beasts - there's still a surprising treat in store for you.
So, yesterday slipped past the Duck. Next week, I plan to fly to Owosso Field KRNP and have lunch with a fellow who was #2 man at Bear Archery when Fred was still around. We're planning a canoe trip to the Les Cheneaux Islands. Talking that over will be good for at least a couple of hours, I figure.
Seems like there is no end of things to do up there. Right now we are mostly just setting around sweating. It's too hot to dance and too wet to plough.
Bob
Bob
Bob, your expression is a variation of one I use when deciding whether or not to do something, or go somewhere. "Miight as well - it's too wet to plow, and I can't dance!"
A LICENSE TO LEARN
While this subject may have been explored before, there's a lot of acreage yet to go. If you pass the written, oral, and practical (flying) tests, finally a Designated Flight Examiner signs you off, and gives you the privilege of a Private Pilot's License. Something they always emphasize is that, "This is a license to learn." It underscores that you just now passed the MINIMUMS. How much farther you go is up to you.
Well, I'm going along at a liesurely pace. I've been stretching myself some with training under the hood - flying withoit looking outside for a reference, trying to answer the old question of 'which way is up?' That needs more work. I also want to explore STOL further. Short Take Off and Landing is not only a handy set of skills to have, it's fun to do. Not being any kind of an expert at it, I plan to work to learn the "little bit more" methods.
I normally land from a descending glide, flying a final approach at 65-75mph. This is done with the engine at between 1,000-1,500 RPM. Gliding with the throttle set at full idle, the prop windmills, feeding power back into the engine. This raises idle from about 700, up to the observed 1,000 RPM. Sometimes 75 is best; others the 65 or so is better. Ot all depends.
I'll start out by going aloft about 3,000' above ground level (AGL), and practice some slow flight. This is a quite different area of the flight regime than cruising. What I'll be doing is learning to get the Duck to fly at about 60-65 MPH, under full control, while descending at 300-500 feet per minute (fpm). This is where the little bit more part comes in.
Controlling a plane at slow speeds where the wing is just about to stop flying takes a little bit more concentration. Actually - a lot more in my case. It also requies a little bit more nose up trim. Wings develop lift from a combination of airspeed and angle of attack. Reducing one requires an increase in the other. Raising the nose produces both more lift - and more drag. Not only does the wing present more area to the relative wind, it also is now aiming some of its lift backwards. Wings develop lift straight up in relation to the plane, not in relation to the ground. So, increasing the wing's angle of attack by raising the nose, causes some of the lift to be pulling the plane backwards. So the other little bit that's needed is power to overcome that drag. I need to figure out what RPM to preset on approach.
All of this becomes quite a balancing act; one that I haven't practiced much lately. So. The next few times I go up in the Duck, I'll be working to bring her down in a short distance. As short as I can.
While this subject may have been explored before, there's a lot of acreage yet to go. If you pass the written, oral, and practical (flying) tests, finally a Designated Flight Examiner signs you off, and gives you the privilege of a Private Pilot's License. Something they always emphasize is that, "This is a license to learn." It underscores that you just now passed the MINIMUMS. How much farther you go is up to you.
Well, I'm going along at a liesurely pace. I've been stretching myself some with training under the hood - flying withoit looking outside for a reference, trying to answer the old question of 'which way is up?' That needs more work. I also want to explore STOL further. Short Take Off and Landing is not only a handy set of skills to have, it's fun to do. Not being any kind of an expert at it, I plan to work to learn the "little bit more" methods.
I normally land from a descending glide, flying a final approach at 65-75mph. This is done with the engine at between 1,000-1,500 RPM. Gliding with the throttle set at full idle, the prop windmills, feeding power back into the engine. This raises idle from about 700, up to the observed 1,000 RPM. Sometimes 75 is best; others the 65 or so is better. Ot all depends.
I'll start out by going aloft about 3,000' above ground level (AGL), and practice some slow flight. This is a quite different area of the flight regime than cruising. What I'll be doing is learning to get the Duck to fly at about 60-65 MPH, under full control, while descending at 300-500 feet per minute (fpm). This is where the little bit more part comes in.
Controlling a plane at slow speeds where the wing is just about to stop flying takes a little bit more concentration. Actually - a lot more in my case. It also requies a little bit more nose up trim. Wings develop lift from a combination of airspeed and angle of attack. Reducing one requires an increase in the other. Raising the nose produces both more lift - and more drag. Not only does the wing present more area to the relative wind, it also is now aiming some of its lift backwards. Wings develop lift straight up in relation to the plane, not in relation to the ground. So, increasing the wing's angle of attack by raising the nose, causes some of the lift to be pulling the plane backwards. So the other little bit that's needed is power to overcome that drag. I need to figure out what RPM to preset on approach.
All of this becomes quite a balancing act; one that I haven't practiced much lately. So. The next few times I go up in the Duck, I'll be working to bring her down in a short distance. As short as I can.
It is the same thing with an A&P license, Airframe and Power plant, for working on aircraft. I have been in the business for 20 years and still learn new things everyday. I always tell the new hires that that piece or paper is just that a license to learn. You never stop learning.
Kevin.
Kevin.
You're right. Hanging on my wall is a little plaque reading,
"You're never too old to learn. There's always some other reason."
And, separately, I'm looking forward to meeting you.
"You're never too old to learn. There's always some other reason."
And, separately, I'm looking forward to meeting you.
LUNCH WITH DAPPER AL
Yesterday, Julie and I flew to Owosso KRNP and lunched with Dapper Al and his lovely wife, Mary. They are always delightful to be around, and yesterday was no exception. They are both very positive and happy. Though Al and I have been friends for years, this was the first opportunity for our ladies to meet. They struck it off in grand terms.
After lunch, we were treated to a tour of their home. Last year, they bought a home that the previous resident had given a "distressed" look. One of their sons buys homes, remodels, and resells them. So the experience is there. With only a couple of small projects in the offing, their home is in very nice condition. In Al's workshop are his four, stripper canoes. Another canoe rests in his garage.
Our flights back and forth were interesting. For reasons as yet unknown, the GPS feature was inoperative on both iPads. So, we reverted to old fashioned nav procedures - pilotage. We followed landmarks - roads, oil storage tanks, towns, courthouse steeples, etc. - that are clearly visible for 5-10 miles. Following the compass helps too. Kind of interesting. Cheated death again.
Yesterday, Julie and I flew to Owosso KRNP and lunched with Dapper Al and his lovely wife, Mary. They are always delightful to be around, and yesterday was no exception. They are both very positive and happy. Though Al and I have been friends for years, this was the first opportunity for our ladies to meet. They struck it off in grand terms.
After lunch, we were treated to a tour of their home. Last year, they bought a home that the previous resident had given a "distressed" look. One of their sons buys homes, remodels, and resells them. So the experience is there. With only a couple of small projects in the offing, their home is in very nice condition. In Al's workshop are his four, stripper canoes. Another canoe rests in his garage.
Our flights back and forth were interesting. For reasons as yet unknown, the GPS feature was inoperative on both iPads. So, we reverted to old fashioned nav procedures - pilotage. We followed landmarks - roads, oil storage tanks, towns, courthouse steeples, etc. - that are clearly visible for 5-10 miles. Following the compass helps too. Kind of interesting. Cheated death again.
Your last paragraph was interesting. If someone flipped the GPS Master Switch off one day and there was no more GPS, we would be so screwed.
Bob
Bob
We came to depend on it pretty well. So far, I haven't nailed dow the cause. It may be related to Apple's old vs new IOS. We're advised to not update a new IOS right away, until the airplane nav software can be updated. I haven't updated yet. BUT, everything was operating OK until this latest IOS update was offered.
Whatever the cause, it affected both iPads identically and at the same time. I'm glad we were flying to a familiar place. Otherwise, I'd have turned around and either replanned the flight, or driven.
We're still checking.
Whatever the cause, it affected both iPads identically and at the same time. I'm glad we were flying to a familiar place. Otherwise, I'd have turned around and either replanned the flight, or driven.
We're still checking.
MASON AVIATION DAY
Every year, along about this time, we have a community open house event at Mason Jewett Field KTEW, in Mason, Michigan. Planes fly in from other communities. Families drive in from miles around. Kids smile, laugh, and run around like little balls of greased lightning. Model Ts put-put around.
A few months ago, planning started to rough in some whats and wheres, whens whys and hows too. Yesterday morning at 0 early thirty, supply trucks were unloading foodstuffs at the hangar. After our pilots' breakfast, we went to the field to start setup work. Move some planes from the hangar to make room for tables and chairs. Set up those plastic shelters (temporary garage units.) Unfold tables; set them in rows, etc. etc. etc.
This morning, at 05:00, two of our members arrived to start cooking sausage, laying out things, meeting the health inspector, (insert some more etc.s here). At 07:00, Julie and I arrived. Started firing up the grills for eggs and pancakes. We had our breakfast, and then the rest of the crew had theirs. People were being delivered from the parking lot (benches bolted to a trailer behind a tractor ran shuttle service). Folks lined up for breakfast, we flipped eggs and pancakes, we greeted old friends, and kibbitzed with new ones. Our close friends Ken and Sue came with a group of their friends.. My friend Bob dropped in. More on Bob later.
After a couple of hours, our relief cooks showed up, Julie and I roamed around a bit. We'd gravitated toward a Kit Fox plane that John and Connie had built. They flew it to this year's Airventure at Oshkosh KOSH and won an award for superb workmanship. Another friend named John wandered up. He'd returned from flying a bird from Texas to Alaska. He was admiring John & Connie's Kit Fox. And Bob joined us. We all started talking airplanes.
Forty years ago, Bob was learning to fly gliders. Life got in the way; gliders got set aside. But today, with all those planes around him, and gaining new contacts with enthusiastic pilots, the old idea of becoming a pilot came to life again. He's started examining experimental aircraft - the kind he can build for himself. BINGO! I'll enroll him into our Adult Eagle program. Whereas the young Eagles program is for kids 8-17 years old, Adult Eagle is for the kid inside us folks from 18-200. Bob fits nicely into this latter group. He has a very interesting journey in store for him.
About lunchtime, Julie and I had been on our feet almost long enough. We said goodbye to others, and beat a retreat to the coffee shop where we could relax, enjoy a frozen drink, and chat with more friends, have lunch, and finally come home.
The aviation community has again enfolded us, enriched us, and left us in a state of satiated fatigue. Cheated death again.
Every year, along about this time, we have a community open house event at Mason Jewett Field KTEW, in Mason, Michigan. Planes fly in from other communities. Families drive in from miles around. Kids smile, laugh, and run around like little balls of greased lightning. Model Ts put-put around.
A few months ago, planning started to rough in some whats and wheres, whens whys and hows too. Yesterday morning at 0 early thirty, supply trucks were unloading foodstuffs at the hangar. After our pilots' breakfast, we went to the field to start setup work. Move some planes from the hangar to make room for tables and chairs. Set up those plastic shelters (temporary garage units.) Unfold tables; set them in rows, etc. etc. etc.
This morning, at 05:00, two of our members arrived to start cooking sausage, laying out things, meeting the health inspector, (insert some more etc.s here). At 07:00, Julie and I arrived. Started firing up the grills for eggs and pancakes. We had our breakfast, and then the rest of the crew had theirs. People were being delivered from the parking lot (benches bolted to a trailer behind a tractor ran shuttle service). Folks lined up for breakfast, we flipped eggs and pancakes, we greeted old friends, and kibbitzed with new ones. Our close friends Ken and Sue came with a group of their friends.. My friend Bob dropped in. More on Bob later.
After a couple of hours, our relief cooks showed up, Julie and I roamed around a bit. We'd gravitated toward a Kit Fox plane that John and Connie had built. They flew it to this year's Airventure at Oshkosh KOSH and won an award for superb workmanship. Another friend named John wandered up. He'd returned from flying a bird from Texas to Alaska. He was admiring John & Connie's Kit Fox. And Bob joined us. We all started talking airplanes.
Forty years ago, Bob was learning to fly gliders. Life got in the way; gliders got set aside. But today, with all those planes around him, and gaining new contacts with enthusiastic pilots, the old idea of becoming a pilot came to life again. He's started examining experimental aircraft - the kind he can build for himself. BINGO! I'll enroll him into our Adult Eagle program. Whereas the young Eagles program is for kids 8-17 years old, Adult Eagle is for the kid inside us folks from 18-200. Bob fits nicely into this latter group. He has a very interesting journey in store for him.
About lunchtime, Julie and I had been on our feet almost long enough. We said goodbye to others, and beat a retreat to the coffee shop where we could relax, enjoy a frozen drink, and chat with more friends, have lunch, and finally come home.
The aviation community has again enfolded us, enriched us, and left us in a state of satiated fatigue. Cheated death again.
Jack,
I heard it said one time that Life is what happens while we are waiting on our Dreams.
Bob
I heard it said one time that Life is what happens while we are waiting on our Dreams.
Bob
I've heard that too, Bob. And, I suppose that it happens to us all. Don't know about others, but in my life it took a rupture zone for me to realize that opportunity was out there. When we're trudging along in our routine (often the word "rut" is a more accurately descriptive term) we don't recognize or hear opportunities for change.
We have to be disrupted, shaken up, or disturbed. Oysters will cling to a rock. They'll continue to cling to that same rock until somehow pryed off. Then - they scurry around looking for another rock. Humans do that sometimes too, others are only followers. They do not want to take responsibility for their own life. They want someone else to make their decisions and choices for them. Now, that kind of person is needed in the world, so it's OK with me that they exist. (The term "cannon fodder" comes to mind.)
Some people prefer - insist - on selecting their own paths and directions for themselves.
We have to be disrupted, shaken up, or disturbed. Oysters will cling to a rock. They'll continue to cling to that same rock until somehow pryed off. Then - they scurry around looking for another rock. Humans do that sometimes too, others are only followers. They do not want to take responsibility for their own life. They want someone else to make their decisions and choices for them. Now, that kind of person is needed in the world, so it's OK with me that they exist. (The term "cannon fodder" comes to mind.)
Some people prefer - insist - on selecting their own paths and directions for themselves.
SNEAKING UP ON INDIAN SUMMER
We all have favorite times of the year. Mine, is in the fall. Though we're not officially there yet, our evenings have gotten cooler - considerably cooler. Though no leaves are turning red, our Indian summer is just around the corner.
Today, Julie and I took the Ruptured Duck up to look around. Everything is so richly green, that I was surprised. All the wheat (and oats too, if there were any out there) have been combined, fanned, binned, and dried. Some has been sold, and maybe even a bushel or so has already been baked into bread. Corn hasn't started to turn its rich harvest-yellow yet - soon, but not yet. Green still predominates.
A couple miles NE'ly of the field, a friend of mine has a couple of hangars, a helipad, and the start of a short, grass runway. His little complex is next to his "Potato Pond". His daughter bedecked the place with that name years ago, when she was a little girl. In Dan's heart, she will always be his little girl, and this will always be his Potato Pond. His helicopter and Suoer Cub live here.
Further north is Dobie Lake. Next to it used to be a peppermint farm. A half a mile W'ly used to stand a house where my Grandpa was born. About 3/4 of a mile E'ly used to stand the house where he died. In between those two times, he witnessed more technological change than the world had ever seen since mankind got up on his hindlegs. He was born in the horse and buggy age, and lived into the space age.
Circling Dobie Lake, I also overflew the cemetary where my parents and grandparents are buried. A mile and a half S'ly of Leek Cemetary is where Don Dobie used to live. I knew him and remember him. Further south, we repassed Mason Jewett Fild KTEW where we'd taken off. Further yet are a series of lakes and ponds, a corn maze in the planning, and a penny ante golf course.
Back at the field, I stumbled through a landing in a crosswind gusting to 21 knots, and cheated death again. God - it's a beautiful country out there.
We all have favorite times of the year. Mine, is in the fall. Though we're not officially there yet, our evenings have gotten cooler - considerably cooler. Though no leaves are turning red, our Indian summer is just around the corner.
Today, Julie and I took the Ruptured Duck up to look around. Everything is so richly green, that I was surprised. All the wheat (and oats too, if there were any out there) have been combined, fanned, binned, and dried. Some has been sold, and maybe even a bushel or so has already been baked into bread. Corn hasn't started to turn its rich harvest-yellow yet - soon, but not yet. Green still predominates.
A couple miles NE'ly of the field, a friend of mine has a couple of hangars, a helipad, and the start of a short, grass runway. His little complex is next to his "Potato Pond". His daughter bedecked the place with that name years ago, when she was a little girl. In Dan's heart, she will always be his little girl, and this will always be his Potato Pond. His helicopter and Suoer Cub live here.
Further north is Dobie Lake. Next to it used to be a peppermint farm. A half a mile W'ly used to stand a house where my Grandpa was born. About 3/4 of a mile E'ly used to stand the house where he died. In between those two times, he witnessed more technological change than the world had ever seen since mankind got up on his hindlegs. He was born in the horse and buggy age, and lived into the space age.
Circling Dobie Lake, I also overflew the cemetary where my parents and grandparents are buried. A mile and a half S'ly of Leek Cemetary is where Don Dobie used to live. I knew him and remember him. Further south, we repassed Mason Jewett Fild KTEW where we'd taken off. Further yet are a series of lakes and ponds, a corn maze in the planning, and a penny ante golf course.
Back at the field, I stumbled through a landing in a crosswind gusting to 21 knots, and cheated death again. God - it's a beautiful country out there.
A gusting 21mph crosswind was probably enough to keep your attention riveted on what you were doing. Thank you for sharing your pleasant day with us.
Bob
Bob
Hi, Bob. The wind was a left, quartering headwind at 11 knots, gusting to 21. The darned gusts keep introducing surprises that make things happen unpredictably. I had watched other pilots landing, and they were all landing long. I always try to land short, so that it's a practiced maneuver for any short fields that I may want to land on.
Yesterday, instead of the first 100', I landed about 1,000' feet down, just like everybody else had done. And, my approach speed was slow, just like I wanted it. But I had to add power a couple of times to handle downwind drift induced by gusts. (Anyway, that's my version of the story). Of course, all the while that I was diddling with that, runway was busy passing along under me. sigh
Yesterday, instead of the first 100', I landed about 1,000' feet down, just like everybody else had done. And, my approach speed was slow, just like I wanted it. But I had to add power a couple of times to handle downwind drift induced by gusts. (Anyway, that's my version of the story). Of course, all the while that I was diddling with that, runway was busy passing along under me. sigh
ON A CALM, SUMMER'S DAY
The last few days had been cool. Yesterday, though, was warmer. Several options were open; we chose to exrecize the Duck.
"How do you like to go up in the sky?
Up in the sky so blue.
Oh - I think it the pleasantest thing,
That ever a child can do."
Robert Louis Stevenson penned those lines to open his poem, The Swing. It has always been a favorite of mine, ever since Mom gave the a small book of poetry. Then, I had a swing.
It was a long swing, hanging from a giant elm, and swung far out over the lawn on one side, and over the driveway on the other. At the peak of the arc, I was high in the air. So high that I could see way past the granary if I looked a bit to the right. Further right lay the pond where a raft floated, sort of. A bit to the left, and I could see Ken McManus'' farm house. Straight ahead was Don Dobie's house. In between was an ancient, woven-wire fence. Prior to spot welding joints, they put in a larger bend at the joints so that bend. Next, they placed a large washer over the bend, protruding the point of the bend out throgh the washer. Last, they ran the crosswire through the bend, under the washer. This held the whole thing together, with washers at thousands of joints.
Yesterday, when we went up in the sky - up in the sky so blue - we again flew over some of our favorite countryside. Air Traffic Control (ATC) was helping us watch for traffic. But, there weren't many others up there. About 60 miles to the SSE at 15,000' over Napolean Airfield, sky divers were jumping. ATC was coordinating the event, and guiding traffic around the jumpers. A wind from the south would drift them northerly. It wasn't at all certain to me where these folks would come down. But I knew that I was far and away from them.
We enjoy Applebee's restaurants. The one in Ionia is clean and nice. A half mile walk brings us from Ionia Airfield Y70 to the restaurant. Tall lemonades helped a lot. Over in a corner, a rowdy group had already started cocktails. We dawdled until they finished and were gone. Our walk back to the plane took us across a highway. Even with a traffic signal helping, we didn't want to cross where drivers who were under the "affluence of incahol" would be driving.
Our trip home was uneventful. Another crosswind landing, and we put away the Duck. Cheated death again.
The last few days had been cool. Yesterday, though, was warmer. Several options were open; we chose to exrecize the Duck.
"How do you like to go up in the sky?
Up in the sky so blue.
Oh - I think it the pleasantest thing,
That ever a child can do."
Robert Louis Stevenson penned those lines to open his poem, The Swing. It has always been a favorite of mine, ever since Mom gave the a small book of poetry. Then, I had a swing.
It was a long swing, hanging from a giant elm, and swung far out over the lawn on one side, and over the driveway on the other. At the peak of the arc, I was high in the air. So high that I could see way past the granary if I looked a bit to the right. Further right lay the pond where a raft floated, sort of. A bit to the left, and I could see Ken McManus'' farm house. Straight ahead was Don Dobie's house. In between was an ancient, woven-wire fence. Prior to spot welding joints, they put in a larger bend at the joints so that bend. Next, they placed a large washer over the bend, protruding the point of the bend out throgh the washer. Last, they ran the crosswire through the bend, under the washer. This held the whole thing together, with washers at thousands of joints.
Yesterday, when we went up in the sky - up in the sky so blue - we again flew over some of our favorite countryside. Air Traffic Control (ATC) was helping us watch for traffic. But, there weren't many others up there. About 60 miles to the SSE at 15,000' over Napolean Airfield, sky divers were jumping. ATC was coordinating the event, and guiding traffic around the jumpers. A wind from the south would drift them northerly. It wasn't at all certain to me where these folks would come down. But I knew that I was far and away from them.
We enjoy Applebee's restaurants. The one in Ionia is clean and nice. A half mile walk brings us from Ionia Airfield Y70 to the restaurant. Tall lemonades helped a lot. Over in a corner, a rowdy group had already started cocktails. We dawdled until they finished and were gone. Our walk back to the plane took us across a highway. Even with a traffic signal helping, we didn't want to cross where drivers who were under the "affluence of incahol" would be driving.
Our trip home was uneventful. Another crosswind landing, and we put away the Duck. Cheated death again.
AN AOPA FLY IN
I've mentioned several times about the aviation community. Like paddlers, fliers gather, swap stories, learn from one another, and help each other. Friday and Saturday, Julie and I joined a big group to do just that.
The Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) works for aviators on many fronts. Safety, socializing, and advocacy come to mind readily. Recently, working with congress and partnering with the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA), they were successful in getting the third class flight physicals greatly modified. Over the years, more and more requirements, administrative procedures, documentation steps, restrictions, etc. were added and multiplied. A few of them make sense. Mostly, they get in the way and produce minimal benefit.
In the last couple of years, AOPA has taken to the road to hold fly ins and town meetings. Great meals, informative seminars, goodlooking planes, old friends and old ones. This fly in was at Battle Creek's W.K. Kellogg airfield KBTL. Our runway at Mason is closed for maintenance, so we drove to this fly in. Instead of camping in our tent under the wing of the Duck, we stayed with Julie's brother, a couple of miles away.
Though AOPA had pre-arranged specific arrival and departure procedures for aircraft, they had not sent out arrival directions for cars. We didn't know which of the four entry points we were supposed to go to. No sweat, we'll sort it out. A happy surprise awaited us. We approached the Michigan Air National Guard gate first. I had my USAF retired veteran ID card out and ready. The security guard stepped out, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I recognise you! I used to work at the Bestsellers Coffeeshop. I know you!"
Wow! That was a surprise. He quickly dircted us to the other side of the field. We waved goodbye, and rerouted. Soon, "EVENT" signs were obvious. We followed to the last entrance, parked, and walked in. Another surprise awaited us here. The husband and wife team of volunteers greeting us all of a sudden ran over and hugged Julie. "I know you, Julie! We used to work together." Julie and Jodie spent a few minutes catching up. Tim and I introduced ourselves to each other. Neat.
I'd prepaid for us a few months ago, and we picked up our tickets for the Friday evening soirée, Saturday's breakfast, and lunch. We walked around, savoring some really good lookin aircraft. Aircraft, eggs, and women are all shaped extremely well. A slick, high winged, twin engine bird caught my attention. As we looked at it, and talked with its owner, he and I tlked about our personal aircraft.
He wants to add shoulder harnesses with an inertia reel to the safety belt. I'd done that, and could give him the benefit of my experience. I have to look at mine, copy down the brand name, and let him know who makes them. Danged if I could recall the manufacturer.
At the barnstormers' BBQ that evening, we again bumped into Jodie and her husband Tim. They joined us to eat and talk. A friend of ours from Mason strolled by, and he joined in too. Turns out that neither Tim or Jodi fly. They volunteered for something interesting to do, and be helpful. It paid off for both them and a lot of people that they helped.
Lots of seminars were held. The two I liked best were "Spinning 101" and "From No-Pilot to Co-Pilot". The lady teaching about spinning, a quite atteactve lady to boot, holds a record for a 60 revolution spin from 10,000' in her Cessna 152. Now, Cessna 152s and172s are used all over for flight training. They're spin resistant; you have to put them into a spin either intentionally, or with extended stupidity. She initiates spins intentionally, and trains pilots in spin recovery techniques.
She also spoke of how irritating and dangerous distractions are in aviation. To demonstarate, she showed pictures of her two, rambunctious boys, about 7 and 12 years of age. They were in the back of her plane, tussling and wrestling. "If you want to fly with distractions, I rent these two out by the hour." All parents an pilots identified with that!
In the No-Pilot To Co-pilot seminar, simplified procedures for flying an aircraft were informally explained. The presenter did a good job. And, it has sparked Julie to restart flight lessons. BINGO!
At 16:00 hours it was all over. That's 4:00 pm for civilians. Fir some, it's when Mickey's right hand is on 12, and his left hand is on 4. We left, and returned to Ken and Gingers, Julie's brother. Time for a relaxing dinner. Cheated death again.
I've mentioned several times about the aviation community. Like paddlers, fliers gather, swap stories, learn from one another, and help each other. Friday and Saturday, Julie and I joined a big group to do just that.
The Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) works for aviators on many fronts. Safety, socializing, and advocacy come to mind readily. Recently, working with congress and partnering with the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA), they were successful in getting the third class flight physicals greatly modified. Over the years, more and more requirements, administrative procedures, documentation steps, restrictions, etc. were added and multiplied. A few of them make sense. Mostly, they get in the way and produce minimal benefit.
In the last couple of years, AOPA has taken to the road to hold fly ins and town meetings. Great meals, informative seminars, goodlooking planes, old friends and old ones. This fly in was at Battle Creek's W.K. Kellogg airfield KBTL. Our runway at Mason is closed for maintenance, so we drove to this fly in. Instead of camping in our tent under the wing of the Duck, we stayed with Julie's brother, a couple of miles away.
Though AOPA had pre-arranged specific arrival and departure procedures for aircraft, they had not sent out arrival directions for cars. We didn't know which of the four entry points we were supposed to go to. No sweat, we'll sort it out. A happy surprise awaited us. We approached the Michigan Air National Guard gate first. I had my USAF retired veteran ID card out and ready. The security guard stepped out, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I recognise you! I used to work at the Bestsellers Coffeeshop. I know you!"
Wow! That was a surprise. He quickly dircted us to the other side of the field. We waved goodbye, and rerouted. Soon, "EVENT" signs were obvious. We followed to the last entrance, parked, and walked in. Another surprise awaited us here. The husband and wife team of volunteers greeting us all of a sudden ran over and hugged Julie. "I know you, Julie! We used to work together." Julie and Jodie spent a few minutes catching up. Tim and I introduced ourselves to each other. Neat.
I'd prepaid for us a few months ago, and we picked up our tickets for the Friday evening soirée, Saturday's breakfast, and lunch. We walked around, savoring some really good lookin aircraft. Aircraft, eggs, and women are all shaped extremely well. A slick, high winged, twin engine bird caught my attention. As we looked at it, and talked with its owner, he and I tlked about our personal aircraft.
He wants to add shoulder harnesses with an inertia reel to the safety belt. I'd done that, and could give him the benefit of my experience. I have to look at mine, copy down the brand name, and let him know who makes them. Danged if I could recall the manufacturer.
At the barnstormers' BBQ that evening, we again bumped into Jodie and her husband Tim. They joined us to eat and talk. A friend of ours from Mason strolled by, and he joined in too. Turns out that neither Tim or Jodi fly. They volunteered for something interesting to do, and be helpful. It paid off for both them and a lot of people that they helped.
Lots of seminars were held. The two I liked best were "Spinning 101" and "From No-Pilot to Co-Pilot". The lady teaching about spinning, a quite atteactve lady to boot, holds a record for a 60 revolution spin from 10,000' in her Cessna 152. Now, Cessna 152s and172s are used all over for flight training. They're spin resistant; you have to put them into a spin either intentionally, or with extended stupidity. She initiates spins intentionally, and trains pilots in spin recovery techniques.
She also spoke of how irritating and dangerous distractions are in aviation. To demonstarate, she showed pictures of her two, rambunctious boys, about 7 and 12 years of age. They were in the back of her plane, tussling and wrestling. "If you want to fly with distractions, I rent these two out by the hour." All parents an pilots identified with that!
In the No-Pilot To Co-pilot seminar, simplified procedures for flying an aircraft were informally explained. The presenter did a good job. And, it has sparked Julie to restart flight lessons. BINGO!
At 16:00 hours it was all over. That's 4:00 pm for civilians. Fir some, it's when Mickey's right hand is on 12, and his left hand is on 4. We left, and returned to Ken and Gingers, Julie's brother. Time for a relaxing dinner. Cheated death again.
You would have probably had a safer trip if you could have flown. But cheating death is cheating death.
Bob
Bob
Weather was low and ugly on Friday. It felt better on the ground. Saturday morning was a downpour, with drizzles to nearly lunchtime.