Got Gas, Will Fly

I was thinking about the gas crunch that we had this past summer, and in North Carolina I saw prices over $5.45 per gallon for JetA. I know in other parts of the country the prices were even worse. But as I was thinking about this gas crisis, it brought to my mind a very funny flying story that I think ya'll might enjoy.

I made several flights with my Director of Operations, Betsy, when I worked at AUTEC, flying a Beech 1900D. Before I knew her very well, she was very difficult to read. She has piercing blue eyes, that when she looks at you, she looks like she's seeing right through you. She's one heck of a stick too I might add, so having an ego in the cockpit is not only going to go nowhere, but will be delt with a piercing blue-eyed stare and one mean right hook!

It took me quite a while not to be intimidated by Betsy. She could fly circles around most people that I knew. She asked me one day during a check ride, "Do I intimidate you, Scott?" Ummmm, nooooo.

After about 7-8 months, we became good friends and the intimidation factor went away. I had learned to fly the airplane much better and she was very comfortable with my decision making and handling of the aircraft.

One day we were paired up together to fly, she was to fly the first leg. With about 15 minutes left in the flight I decided to put forth a challenge of precision and skill, which I knew she would be all over like flies on stink. I told her that I would challenge her to a precision landing dual. The challenge was this: The pilot who exercised the smoothest landing...wins...and you could not hold the plane off the runway for hours trying to squeak it on. The landing had to touch down on the first 1/3 of the runway. Of course, when I made the challenge, her response was, "You're on", accompanied by a very evil laugh.

By the time the rules of engagement had been discussed and agreed upon, we were turning final. Now everytime she would land the plane, she had a special routine that she would go through. It was like clockwork. She would bounce in her seat a few times, pushing herself up high in the seat, make a few passes with the trim wheel, and you could see the level of excitement starting to escalate. "Aaaaawe, I have this one nailed, you are going down, Irene!" She was obviously getting rather excited about the on-coming slaughter, as the name Irene might indicate, and with a sh*t eatin' grin, she reached up with her hand and brushed the 4 bars on her shoulder, as if to say, "Hey, Rookie, lemme show you how a pro does it".

She had the plane trimmed to perfection, speed dead on, and as we were coming across the numbers, I doubled over in my seat and moaned out, "AWWWWE, I'VE GOT GAS!!" "WHAT??", she said in a complete shock. She was so thrown for a loop on that one that she lost all concentration and we went "SLAM" into the runway. Well, at least the second hop wasn't quite as bad as the first, but as you all know, we log them all!

With my arm black and blue and sore from the followed right hook, I laughed until I couldn't stand it anymore.

So, the next time gas prices have you down, think about this story, and after a chuckle, maybe it won't hurt so bad.

Happy New Year Hangar Talk

Happy New Year Everybody!

I am having so much fun with this Blogging escapade, or should I call it Barn-Blogging. Well whatever you call it, it is very refreshing to know that there are actually people out there that are aviation buffs and enjoy hangar flying. I know, I know...it is really difficult to get a pilot to talk about airplanes....I know what you mean. But finally, instead of the vacant stares we get from the "obviously uneducated", we can pontificate about our heroic gravitational defeat and defying death at any and all possible opportunities.

That being all said, how many pilots out there still have flying jobs? My thoughts are that there are probably more of us without jobs than there are with. So the stories of when you had the aviators scarf tied tightly around your neck, and were battling...whatever...are probably at an all time high right now, since you are not actually out there living the dream or making the stories. I see that there are all kinds of websites out there that say they can help you find that perfect flying job, and almost all of them charge you to join there members section. I have found that a good many of them just copy jobs from other jobsites, and aren't really offering anything new.

So are there any suggestions out there amongst the vast masses for all of the good pilots that have been stepped on again and are looking for jobs all over again? Is there anything else out there that these people can find work to help feed their families? If you have any ideas, thoughts, or pontifications of your own, please feel free to leave a message. Please make it positive opinions or ideas. I personally feel that if we as pilots could pool our thoughts together, we could possibly find ways to generate jobs on our own. Just my opinion. There are many pilots out there that would like to bring in the new year on a more positive note.

A Pirate Looks at Fifty

Everybody who knows me knows that I really like Jimmy Buffett music. I own many of his CD's and listen to him quite frequently. The sounds of the carribean music mentally stretch me across a hammock laced between two lazy palm trees with ice blue water in the near distance as I suck down countless pina coladas. It's just pure heaven for me.

I flew Beech 1900D's to a Navy Submarine Base located on Andros Island in the Bahamas. Could possibly have been the best flying gig known to man-kind. Fly out to the island, 1 hour, land, change into swimming trunks and go lobster hunting for the next 3 to 4 hours, change back into my uniform, pre-flight, and 1 hour flight back to Palm Beach....now ladies and gentlemen, that is a flying gig!! And on top of all that, I GOT PAID TO DO THIS!!

Well, one afternoon, on the trip back to Palm Beach, the radios were unusually quiet. I had the speed pegged at the barber pole so as to get home a little early. "Palm Beach approach, AUTEC ONE, Ten thousand with Yankee!" Then I heard, "Palm Beach, N208JB, 7000 Yankee." I knew that voice!! It was like I heard the strumming of guitars in the background as he called in.

Now it just so happened that I had been reading one of Jimmy Buffett's books, "A Pirate Looks at Fifty" and had taken it to the island for some catch-up reading. I knew that he had to clear Customs just like I did, and I knew that I was going to get there first. So, I waited there a few minutes , just like any loyal Parrotthead would do.

When he finally came through Customs, I greeted him with a smile and a hand shake. He was extremely friendly and asked me all about my flying. I told him that I was reading his book, and would he mind signing it for me, which he did. I then told him that the stories he wrote were really interesting to me and that I was enjoying them alot. And with a smirk on his face as he was leaving the Customs Building, he threw one arm up in the air and proudly proclaimed, "They're all Lies!!"

Thoughts on Aviation and God

Folks, this next posting is an exerpt that I found on Vince Frazier's F-1H Rocket Webpage. The words are not my creation, but if you could climb into the cockpit of my soul and yell "Clear!", my deep founded beliefs would reflect them. I hope you enjoy as much as I did.

"Aviators as a group are a fiercely independent lot. We have to be, or else none of us would have the courage to leave the safety of the ground for the unknown of the sky. This independent streak often separates people from God. We tend to believe that we have all of the answers, which is hubris at its best. It would be next to impossible to persuade anyone at this stage of their life that God is real. I have been a believer for my entire life, and at times, I still question and doubt. This is because God gave us free will and choice. Albert Einstein once said: "The probability that there is no God is the same as a bomb exploding in a print shop resulting in Webster's Dictionary." Smart words from a smart man.

For those of us who are unbelievers, I hope that you find Him before it is too late.
Scenario A- You die and become worm chow...the end.
Scenario B- You die and go to heaven where you will be embraced by the warmth of His love. Sounds farfetched to unbelievers, no doubt. It sounds great to me.

"Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." Matthew 25:13

Don Alexander (God is my pilot- I need all the help I can get!)"

From Fear to Fascination

Hello Everyone,

This is my first posting to my Blog. I am really excited to post my thoughts as well as the stories and adventures of the many pilots that I know. I have been reading alot of aviator Blogs lately and some are really fantastic! I particularly enjoyed reading "Chopper Chick's Blog" as well as "Felix on a Mission's Blog". I only hope that mine holds a candle to theirs.

How I got Started Flying

Complete and utter Fear!! That about sums it all up. My father absolutely loved to fly, didn't have a pilot's license, but loved it anyway. He always was telling Mom about the plane that he was going to build in the garage and fly all over the country...together. Well....we all know how well that one turned out. More on that in a later Blog. But when I had aged into my thirties, and had matured enough to start my middle-aged crazies, I decided to take-on flying head on, Fear Will Not Conquer Me!.

A friend of mine owned a Luscombe 8A that was completely gorgeous....and small. So I started taking lessons. The first three lessons went really....well...ok. They lasted about 15 minutes each, and ended with me jumping out of the plane on the grass runway, as the plane was still rolling to a stop, and heaving all over the grass. Attractive right? Not exactly the stud pilot I always envisioned I'd be. Thank God my instructor had a sense of humor. He would say, "Well, that was nice, the grass needed alittle fertilizer anyway!" .

After about 2 weeks, I finally was over the initial fear and was now to the point in my flying where one must land. They always say, "Take-off's are voluntary, Landings are mandatory". Well, my instructor did his best to tell me that the brakes are on the heels, not on the toes of this plane. He kept telling my this over and over ad-nausium, till I finally asked him if he thought that I couldn't remember this simple fact requiring him to tell me six thousand times! The reason then became apparent. The brakes were only on my side, not his. And this plane was his Baby!

The First Landing

My instructor showed me about 15 times how to land the Luscombe. He made it look so easy, that even a small child could do it. We practiced keeping the plane straight on the ground as we taxiied down the runway. In fact, we practiced that more than we did the actual approach. I didn't really understand why all the fuss about keeping it straight on the runway, after all, it wasn't going to go any other direction...right?

My approach was perfect, speeds...right on. My instructor was completely amazed at how well I was doing. We touched down...well...we'll just call it like grease for lack of a better description. Then a small gust of wind slightly moved the down draping windsock, and the plane darted to the right. I mashed on the toe brakes.....WHERE ARE THE TOE BRAKES!!! All I heard was, "HEELS, HEELS, THE BRAKES ARE ON THE HEELS!!" We went veering off the runway, ran over the tire runway markers and came to a screeching halt just before we were to run through the cow fense. My heart was racing a billion miles an hour (Oh yeah, Knots per hour, as I would come to know later).

I looked at my instructor with a completely red blushed face..."heel brakes". He said, "Well, that was nice. Let's do it again, this time, try not to go through the fense".

Oh, those first few weeks of flying were memories that I will always remember. Don't get me wrong, I have often tried to forget them, but they are engraved in my mind like it was yesterday. But now that I am a taildragger pilot with about 1000 hours of tail time, I realize how important it is that those memories stay in the forefront of my mind. For a taildragger doesn't stop flying until it is tied down!