Dangerous Pilot - Maximum Scofflaw

A flying story was requested. The following is definitely in the "don't do as I did" category.

Becoming a pilot is expensive. To become commercial rated requires 200 hours of flight time before taking the test. To build time I delivered and repossessed airplanes for a dealer who was as loose an operator as I've known. He always kept keys to the planes he sold under "full recourse" (In effect he co-signed the loan). Miss a few payments and had the plane "recovered".

In June 1969 we were looking for a Tri-Pacer and found it in Baton Rouge. I was the junior guy. While the senior guy distracted people I untied, loaded my stuff, and started the Tri-Pacer. No preflight except checking the oil. I started taxing and called Ground Control for clearance to the active runway when three or four men started running towards me. A long taxiway was in front of me so I used it for a runway. Lots of yelling on the radio by the controllers. Airborne , I turned right and headed North for Mississippi. Weather was bad and fuel was low so I landed in Jackson, MS. The weather got worse and I was stuck for the night.

The next morning Jackson was socked in. I knew the weather was clear thirty miles West and the cloud layer was about 1500' thick and clear above the clouds.

I was not instrument rated. The people at the Jackson airport were becoming hinkey. Looking at my chart, I decided where I would be least likely to encounter legitimate IFR traffic and took off. All my instrument training was "under the hood" and I had never been in clouds. The plan worked and 20 minutes later I was above the clouds. Another 40 minutes and I could see the ground.


I loved the flying but not the genteel poverty of General Aviation. I have vast admiration for the men and women who have made careers in GA - better folks than me to be sure. My short lived aviation career did help my later endevors more than anything else including college and the Army.

Public Range - Anarchy???

A friend and I both have handguns we haven't fired so went to a public range in Weld County, CO. This place has just a few signs and no facilities. Perhaps a dozen vehicles were parked in the area and their occupants were shooting everything from shotguns at clays to someone with a .50. No authority present; just people exercising good judgement and courtesy. Responsible gun ownership at it's finest.

Repo Story Part Two

Finding the car was step one. Step two was coming back with a driver and spare keys. My middle son was available so we set off for Farley.

My middle son looks like the lead character in a Slasher movie. I love him like a son but think his appearance needs adjusting. I've seen gangbangers cross over the street when encountering him.

We arrive at the car, unlock it with the spare key, and middle son gets in. I go to the door of the shack nearby and pound on the door. My target "John" answers. After a brief, intense conversation he goes to the car to retrieve his personal possessions in exchange for keys, owners manual and sales documents. Then he starts whining about the cash down payment he made and when we will give him a refund! We go back to his shack and he produces the keys, etc. I advise him to stay inside for thirty minutes and middle son and I drive away.

I apologize for the lack of drama here. I've done many, many repos/rollbacks without drama. Done correctly, there is no drama. Being 6'+ 285lbs with a naturally red face and scarred knuckles probably helps.

Repo Story

Had a request for a repo story. If you expect something like you see on TruTV you will be disappointed.

At the time this took place my employer had me organize off site car sales. We would rent a parking lot, use a motor home for an office, bring in sixty or more cars, and hold a five day sale. We "spot delivered" every car we could and worried about the financing after the sale. After every sale there would be failed deals and we needed to get the cars back.

Trinidad, CO was a favorite sale site. The people there are great, sales were good, and our crew did their best to stimulate the local nightlife businesses with good results. One customer used his brother's drivers license, social security number and insurance card to buy a car. His brother wasn't too happy when we contacted him to verify some information. The only info he would give us was a post office box in a New Mexico town.

The town is four buildings between Raton and Clayton. One building is a gas station, restaurant, gift shop and post office. The friendly folks didn't have a physical address for my skip but thought he might live in Farley. Farley is an abandon town in the middle of nowhere with no utilities or government. Some buildings are used by squatters and that is where I located our car.

Part Two to follow

I am a Democrat -Yuck!

Daily I receive emails from various Democrat groups. The overall theme is gloating but always asking for money. This past election I held my nose and voted for McCain - the first Republican I voted for since Ford.

I think Obama is going to make the left real unhappy; that he will "betray" them. What do they expect from a Chicago politician? As a Bluedog Dem, the names Pelosi, Schumer and Reid make my gut hurt.

My District 7 Congressman doesn't think anyone needs an "assault rifle". His GOP opponent this past election was long on rhetoric (His web page headlined, "My opponent is a life long bureaucrat") and short on solutions. We need good bureaucrats to get the public works done (roads, schools, insurance companies, corporate management, etc.). He never said he was a bad bureaucrat. As a 2nd amendment supporter it bothered me to vote for Perlmutter but his opponent was the worst kind of Republican; don't think, don't find a middle ground - it's my way or the highway, Tom Delay type. Of course, Pelosi is the same. Different politics but the same methods.

I really dislike all the Bushes. Long time Coloradians may understand what I mean when I call them sleazy Texas slickers. George the Elder was CIA head at the end of Vietnam. Seems he was in a good position to do something about our MIA/POWs. He did squat! Son Neal? Hello, Silverardo Savings and Loan.
Then there is George the 2nd. He puked his National Guard assignment then went on to create a 100 year debt for Texans to build a baseball stadium.

The question for me is where does the conservative democrat fit?

Dirty Al Gets Spun

Dirty Al had a diesel powered Mercedes with low compression. To turn the engine fast enough for it to start he had the trunk full of batteries. At every opportunity he plugged in the block heater. Our dealership had two building across a busy four lane street. The building across from Al's had an outlet in the parking area that was also covered by a large deck. The area served as a smoking area. This was the owner's wife's reserved parking spot. When she left for the day he would move his car to her parking space and plug in his block heater and multiple battery chargers.

One evening I told Al, "Dan (the GM) just called and he is hot! Someone is parked in L's space and he has called a tow truck". Al goes crazy shouting, "I was told I could park there when she isn't here", and runs out the door. Crossing the four lane street took time; you needed to go to the corner and wait for the traffic light.

That gave me time to alert the GM.

The GM had been taken in by Al's spin to the point he had called his wife with the news. Payback time.

When Al came puffing up to his car, the GM was nearby smoking. "Dan", Al called out, "I need to talk to you"! "Not now', was the reply, "I'm waiting for a tow truck". The more Al protested, the more insistent the GM was he didn't have time for, "Your silly little problem". Ah, revenge.

Dirty Al Spin

Elaborate verbal practical jokes at our car lot were known as "spins". Among the best was put together by Dirty Al. Shortly after we opened one Sunday morning he came to my desk with the Sunday paper opened and a lottery ticket.

"Check my lottery ticket", he requested. "I don't have my glasses". He had purchased a lottery ticket that morning with the previous day's winning numbers. He was keeping me from "hawking" the telephone but the quickest way to get rid of him was to check. Not looking at the date on the ticket I checked the numbers. Shocked, I saw all six matched. For just a moment the temptation to bolt out the door with the ticket was overwhelming. Next came jealousy. I handed him his ticket and said, "Congratulations Al, looks like you have won 9 million dollars". The showroom was in an uproar with everyone congratulating Al. He started babbling in Latin and whatever other tongues he knew from being a soldier of fortune while rushing back and forth. Then he said, "No! God didn't mean this to happen" and set the ticket on fire. After two salesmen tore the ticket away from him he laughed and said, "Spun you, didn't I!" After all of us thoroughly cursed him we went back to work.