#1,000

What to do for the 1,000^th  blog posting, other than amazement  I’ve kept doing it, and a few people keep reading it? Instead of some epic rant, decided to do something for my late Dad.

When I returned from the Army, the dormant flying bug became full blown. With some bucks in the bank, decided it was now or never. Snagged a job with a meteorology company that had a contract to study snowfall patterns. Great  job. We worked when it was storming and were off when the weather was nice. My coworkers went skiing. I went flying.

My Dad always had the flying bug and used me as an excuse to start lessons. We went in on a 1939 Piper J-4, somewhere around 75 hp, operating off a 7,000 AGL runway. As my father was known to say, “You by God learned what flying was all about”. The J-4 is a forgiving airplane at reasonable altitudes but hasn’t much margin for error at the altitude we operated.

We put many hours on that bird. Later, after earning his Private ticket, Dad bought a Cessna 182. He had become involved in Real Estate and that airplane helped put together several ranch sales in the region. He always said the ranch deals payed for the plane.

My Dad was one hell of a stick but was careless. He didn’t appreciate his son pointing out his lapses. Since he had such a domineering personality, I was about the only person who would speak up. He intimidated flight instructors. While he never bent one, I know he scared himself a few times.

We had a strained relationship all the years. He and my mother divorced after 33 years. Family joke. My sister and I tell people we are the result of a mixed marriage. My Dad was cows, my Mom sheep. My sister adds their marriage was a range war.

Around age 60, my Dad started to reinvent himself, for lack of a better description. He started examining his beliefs and ways of dealing with things. I’ve always admired that. He died in his sleep when he was 64, probably from complications of undiagnosed sleep apnea.

Two things I regret about his death. First, my sons never got to know him as they grew up. He was terrific with kids, just not his own. Second, we were starting to patch up our differences and we probably would have had a much better relationship. It was hard as I inherited his temper and my mother’s stubbornness, not to mention she was often a bitch on steroids, and I am sometimes my mother’s son.

I do have to cut my parents some slack. They grew up in the Great Depression in a Grapes of Wrath environment. Their drive to succeed was undoubtedly fueled by what my parents described as, “The belly flapping principal”.

In summary, if you have made it this far, thank you for reading this.

Building Flying Hours

Another flying story was requested. The picture is for Murphy’s Law. That’s Frank Tillman in that twin Beech.

Building flying hours when you don’t have a lot of money is always a challenge. In the late 1960’s, my solution was to live off my savings and become a pilot for Dick Nolan in Greeley, CO. He advertised in Trade-A-Plane, “Dick Nolan has $2,000,000, buys airplanes”. He sold, and financed, airplanes over the telephone. He used a Michigan bank and would finance anyone with a down payment as he guaranteed the “paper” to the bank. He needed airplanes delivered, picked up, and repossessed. His deal with his pilots was he paid for fuel, oil, and a bus ticket back. His restrictions were VFR only and no night flying. What an education as I built a few hundred hours with him. There were many nights in some hanger in a sleeping bag. I learned to fly in a conventional gear airplane (Piper J-4) and did most of his single engine conventional gear trips. I didn’t have much retractable gear time so I rarely flew them unless he didn’t have anyone else.

I hated flying with him. He was the most careless pilot I ever met. Once saw him takeoff in a Cessna 150 with a rudder gust lock in place. Another time I picked him up in Kansas in a Luscombe 8E. Two big men are “snug” in a Luscombe. We headed West with me flying and him reading. Occasionally, he would glance up and motion me to go lower to lessen the effect of a headwind. He wasn’t satisfied until we were at crop duster level. 

He did pay us when we repossessed an airplane. One trip saw us in the South, his “chief pilot”, and two dummies. We would find the plane, grab it, and stash it at a Mississippi Delta airport. One we found hidden  on a farm in Georgia. Bob, the chief pilot, rented a car and we drove to the farm. No one was home. The plane, a Piper Pacer, was out of fuel with a dead battery. Off we went to the nearest gas station for ten gallons of gas. Back at the farm, we “proped” the plane and let it warm up. There was no runway, only a field planted in, kid you not, peas. A true “pea patch” story. The field was about 500’ wide with a downhill slope. The peas were about to the top of the wheels. “No problem.” Bob said, and sent me off. The takeoff roll was rough but was going well until I saw the fence we couldn’t see from the top of the hill. Managed to bounce the Piper over the fence without stalling it and staggered along in ground effect until the airspeed got in front of the power curve. Landed the Piper in Tullahoma, TN for fuel. The entire underside was green. Bob told me later there was a green cloud behind me. Then he said, “Yah, maybe we should have pulled it out to the road.”    

In the industry, Nolan was known as, “Dirty Dick, the junk dealer.” Some of the stuff we flew should have been in a junk yard. Still, it was one hell of an education, mainly in what not to do. Ah, youth, testosterone, ambition, and determination; how did we survive it? For me, it was a grand adventure, and I’m glad I had (and survived) the experiences.

Who knew, back then, a television series would be made called Airplane Repo?

http://dsc.discovery.com/tv-shows/airplane-repo

The Puddy 4

Pictures to follow. Blogger and I aren't getting along today. The airplane I put in the bulk of my first 100 hours was a 1939 Piper J-4 my father bought to learn to fly in. I had a fractional ownership position.  He kept it until he bought a Cessna 182.

Allegedly 75 h.p., we were flying it off a strip at 7,000' ASL. No starter, but did have a wind driven generator for the six channel radio, navigation lights, and turn and bank gyro. No landing light, so night landings at unlit airports could be a bit interesting.

Pretty airplane, Red and White sunburst pattern, and a decent interior. You could hold a conversation in it at cruise. Sweet flyer with not a mean corner anywhere in it's flight envelope. You did want to be paying attention when landing, especially in a crosswind.

My now ex wife had her first ever light aircraft ride in the Puddy 4, cross country over the Colorado front range. Gutsy woman!