200 & 1/2

Whoops!

2009-07-09T10:25:00.002-06:00

This morning when I woke up it was light out. Not the dimly lit dawn’s early light, but my back yard was ablaze with sunshine. As the fog of sleep rolled out of my mind, I realized that all was not right. Looking at the bedside clock on the nightstand, it read 0730. HOLY CRAP! I missed my show time! (That was at 0530.)

My mind spooled up to panic mode while I threw on some clothes from the bottom of the closet. Grabbing a ball cap, I raced out of the house to the airport hoping against hope that I would make it. If the Big Box Hauler was late there was still a chance I could make my departure. (That was at 0700)

I called the chief pilot’s cell phone as I raced to the airport. No dice.

Rounding the corner on two wheels in a cloud of dust, I roared down the service road that is adjacent to the cargo ramp. The cargo ramp came into view from behind the TRACON building, and to my horror it was vacant. I had missed my own flight!! How the hell does that happen? The plane can’t leave without the pilot!

Skidding to a stop I frantically dialed the Chief Pilot. Still, no answer. I left the most apologetic message I could, along with a plea to call me ASAP.

An hour or so later Sven, the chief pilot called. I answered and stammered through an apology, and started to beg for my job back when he simply said, “Hey, enjoy your day off. I wanted to fly today anyway. I don’t get to fly as much as I would like so I covered your flight.”

Wow. Now I have a new dilemma. What am I going to today?

Airport Madness

2009-04-28T12:21:00.005-06:00

Ever wanted to be an Air Traffic Controller? The other day Echo Delta challenged me to this game via a facebook invite. I've been hooked ever since. I have done fairly well, completeing the game with a nice sized paycheck. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. Caution: this game is extremely addicting.

Airport Madness

Note: You can skip the ads by clicking on the 'skip this ad' box about 3 sec into the ad.

Out of commission

2008-08-05T09:30:00.007-06:00

It has been a busy summer here in NSMT. Since the middle of June, Echo Delta and I have been home only one weekend. With class reunions, fourth of July celebrations, weddings and family reunions, work and the deli taking up most of my free time, it has been hard to find time to blog.

On top of it all, my laptap is out of commission. That is where most of my blogging is done and where a good portion of my pictures are stored. It took a couple of hard hits one day when it slid off the wing and onto the concrete while I was closing the aircraft door and then the handle fell off the case sending it yet again to the hard surface of the ramp. Even though it was in its 'protective case', the damage had been done.

Now, when I turn it on, the screen only lasts for about 3 minutes before it goes blank. Hardly enough time to do anything productive, let alone post a blog.

The flying has been good here in New South Montucky this summer. So far it has been typical VFR days with visibility down slightly due to the haze and smoke in the atmosphere from the forest fires out west. I spend my afternoon trip dodging thunderstorms on the way back to Big Town in nearly 100*F temperatures.

For your viewing enjoyment I have put together a compilation of photos (four of them) to show you the sights I see on a typical summer day.

I took this photo on the way to the hangar just before 5am.

The morning run between Cow Town and The Dive.

Dodging high base thunderstorms and rain showers.

The wet streets and airport of Big Town backlit by the sun after the rain.

When Dogs Fly

2008-05-28T20:39:00.003-06:00

Many people travel with their pets. Not just little road trips to a neighboring state for the weekend. They actually fly, in the cabins of transport category and general aviation aircraft. Occasionally, I have had puppies on board my aircraft as cargo.

You see them all the time, dogs mostly, in those duffel bag sized carriers, with their heads poking out, sniffing all the smells of an airport. I have even seen them on a leash in the concourse!

When I worked for Diamond, we used to fly Tom Brokaw and his dogs from New York to his cabin out west.

There was this one guy, and his dog, that really stick out in my mind. I was teaching in Colorado at the time and this guy had a really nice Cessna 210 and the coolest Border Collie you ever did see. The dog would chase a frisbee all over the ramp/airport when you would throw it and then drop it at your feet to have it done all over again. He was an airport dog and was every one's friend. The dog was well trained and would respond immediately to any verbal command by his master. Even better, the crazy Collie loved to fly.

His owner would taxi the 210 to the fuel pumps, shut down and then open the door. Bounding out of the back seat, the Collie would circle the aircraft barking as if to tell the machine to stay put and then assume a position in the shadow of the airplane to stay out of the hot summer sun.

After fueling, the owner would open the door and holler, "Let's go Flying!", causing the dog to spring from his restful state and leap back into the back seat of the aircraft. The owner would get in and close the door leaving the window open, and of course the dog would do what any dog does in a vehicle with a window open.

Most General Aviation pilots make it a point to yell the word "clear " or "clear prop" just prior to engine start to ensure that there is nobody in the way of the propeller. This is the best part... The pilot yells "Clear!", and right on cue, the Collie, head out the window, begins to bark with anticipation as his master engages the starter. The engine roars to life and the dog seems to lean out the window a little more to catch as much of the slipstream as possible created by the now spinning prop.

I always wondered what they did on their flights that gave the dog the flying bug. I think this video might shed some light on the subject.

Spring Has Sprung - The Root of My Problem

2008-05-20T18:39:00.006-06:00

The last frost has come and gone in New South Montucky, at least here in Big Town. It is time to get the yard in shape, the underground sprinklers running, and Echo Juliet has told me that she wants to plant a container garden this year.

I usually don't talk about things that happen away from the airport or out of the cockpit, but this is one of those things that you have to see to believe.

I spent the late part of last week trying to get the underground sprinkler system in our yard online for the summer. It is simple enough. Prime the pump, turn on said pump, open the spigot, and there you have it. Cool, crisp, refreshing water. Oh, but hold on there sparky....There is no water... yet. I let the pump run for 10 minutes only to get a measly trickle.

So, being the handy man that I am, I check all the plugs, fittings and valves for the system, repeat the above steps, only to be rewarded with nothing but a dribble.

The pump was here when I bought the house nearly seven years ago, and I'm sure that it was here many years prior. It is probably in dire need of an overhaul. I'm sure that it is waaaay past TBO and I have just been lucky.

I venture to one of my favorite hauts, Sears - Home of Craftsman Tools. Since the pump is a Sears brand from back in the early eighties, one would assume that the fine friendly folks at the service center would have the necessary parts to complete the overhaul.

The guy that helped me looked like the kid from the Zits comic strip and talked like Screech. They had all the parts I would need for the overhaul. "Order them", I told the young lad.

Clicking the mouse in rapid succession like he was playing an online game about to slay the evil villain, he stopped suddenly, looked me square in the eye and deadpanned, "I'm sorry Mr. Runner sir. They don't make the impeller anymore." Cumulonimbus! That's like a plane with no prop, it ain't gonna fly man!

I guess it is time for a new pump to the tune of about $300.

A couple of days later I stroll into the Turf Depot to purchase my new pump. After chatting with a couple of guys there and a crusty old rancher that happened to be in the store, I came away with a few tricks to try before I spend my hard earned cash on something I may not need. Before I attempt any abracadabra on the pump I decide to give it another whirl. Wouldn't you know it, as luck would have it, the damn thing pumped water like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

Not wanting to fix something that ain't broke, I move on. I go to the controller and one by one turn on each zone in the yard. I then inspect every head in each zone for proper function. All is in order except one head in zone one. It seems to have been sucked into the ground by some unseen force so that it makes a puddle that gurgles and bubbles.

I decide to dig it up and this is what I find.

This tree root has grown over the main supply line and the feeder supply line pulling the head into the ground. (You can see the feeder line, the white part to the right of the root.) The tree is a mature cottonwood about 2.5 feet from the top of the picture. I would love to cut this root out but it is huge, almost 8 inches in diameter and I fear permanent damage to my tree. Notice how the root has grown around the head.

I decide to meticulously dig around the root and supply line, remove the head and then push the supply line under the root to the right and re-attach the head. Sounds simple enough.

Well, two hours later this is what I'm rewarded with.

The damn thing broke off in my hand! Ok well, now for plan B. Back to Turf Depot for supplies. I decide to move the feeder line toward the bottom of the picture and place it away from the root.

Another two hours later this is what I have created.
Ya know it ain't pretty but it will get the job done. I bet in a couple of more years I'm gonna have to do this again. Maybe by that time Echo Juliet and I will have built that little ranch house in the country we have been dreaming about. Then it can be the root of someone else's problem!

Snow Day

2008-04-16T13:48:00.003-06:00

"Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect."

Last week was a really busy week at the deli, despite the weather. It was overcast and gloomy Tuesday and Wednesday and front moved in and it began to snow shortly before noon in Squidtown.

Thursday at the deli turned out to be our biggest day of the week. The lunch rush started at about 1100 and lasted until about 1430. I was busier than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest as I waited tables, poured sodas, and helped out the cook in the kitchen. The customers kept remarking how the weather making a turn for the worse, yet they kept coming in the door in droves. The cooked must have spiked the soup again.

I worried about my airplane in the back canyons of my mind. I had left it secured on the ramp earlier in the morning at the airport. It was a fleeting thought as I was focused on the hungry people I was serving.

I finally was able to take a breath at about a quarter to three to have a bite to eat. I finally had an opportunity to take a gander out the window at this ‘bad weather’ the customers were telling me about. What I saw surprised me.

Peering out the window, the cars and parking lot were covered in about 2 inches of heavy snow. It was snowing very hard and I couldn’t really make out the golden arches across the street.

Dialing the FBO I got ahold of the line guys to see if there was a spot in the cold hangar. I begged them to put the SUV in if they had a chance. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

Arriving at the airport I found the SUV stuck in the cold hangar, tug and towbar still attached, covered in snow.

The typical freight dawg pilot has few tools at his disposal to perform his job compared to his brethren at the Big Box Haulers. A good headset to protect what hearing he has left, a pair of sunglasses that he spent one entire paycheck on so that he can 1) look good and 2) protect his eyes from that big orange ball that always seems to shine right in the windscreen as it rises and sets. He also carries a 3 “D” cell Maglite that is used to 1) look for ice on the wings as he flies and 2) to beat the said ice off the wings so that he can complete the next leg. Last but not least is a nice wide broom, with soft bristles. One where the handle will separate from the head so that it is easily stored in the wing locker or cargo compartment. The broom is used to clean the snow off the wings and polish frost smooth. This is also referred to as a deicing program.

I grabbed my trusty broom and began the laborious task of cleaning snow off the aircraft. First the left wing, followed by the nose and windscreen, and the right wing. Making the turn around the corner of the wing toward the horizontal stabilizer, I heard the hangar side door open and the director of maintenance, Mick, hollered my name.

He came strolling around the tug with a shop cart in tow, loaded with my freight.

“I thought you would like to load up here in the hangar so that we can just pull you out and send you on your way with the weather the way it is. I don’t think the airport manager has plowed the runway yet either,” Mick remarked.

I loaded the freight onto the SUV and secured it with the cargo net as we engaged in a boisterous BS session.

The BS had gotten pretty deep when I noticed it was time for my departure, I stowed the broom and engine covers as the line guys opened the main hangar door. I climbed inside the SUV and ran the before start checklist as the boys towed me out of the hangar and onto the ramp.

Taxiing to runway 01, I listened to the weather and received my clearance Visibility had improved but the ceilings were low. Just another wintery spring day in New South Montucky. I poured the coals to the mighty Continentals, and began ‘snowplowing’ down the runway. Giggling with delight, because I was the first one to make tracks in the new snow, I pulled gently on the control wheel in an effort to take the mighty SUV into the air. It was then that things got pretty western, and I was about to have me a rodeo…

There was this awful buffet in the airframe as the wheels left the ground - almost like I was in a stall, but much worse. The SUV was having a hard time deciding if it wanted to fly or not. I was bound and determined to make it fly and it fought me all the way.

So there I was, 2 feet in the air, 110 KIAS, in what seemed like a deep stall, quickly running out of runway, time and options all at the same time. Not really a good situation to be in for any pilot, including myself.

I had to decide between the lesser of two evils. Sure I could chop the power and settle onto the slick, snow covered pavement and hope like hell that I would get stopped before I went off the end of the runway, through the approach lights, over the ditch and onto the highway. But, I really didn’t want to bend an airplane today. The other option was to wrestle the old hag for every knot of speed and every inch of altitude until I hit the trees ½ mile off the end of the runway in a ball of fire and twisted metal. Sucking up the gear and trying to push the throttle through the radio stack, I committed myself to option two.

In situations like this, there really is no time to be scared. You are so focused on trying to save your own ass that you put everything aside. It is not until later that you analyze what happened. It is then and only then you realize the gravity of the situation and get that ‘legs turned to jelly’ feeling.

About the time I was trying to decide if it was better to hit trees, farmer Watson’s barn, or take my chances with powerlines, something weird happened. It felt like the good Lord himself hit the SUV with a sledge hammer. With a loud thump the vibration stopped, and the SUV rocketed skyward like a homesick angel. It was only then did I realize what had happened.

With my attention being diverted by Mick, I didn’t remove the snow off the tail of the SUV. When I tried to become airborne, the tail stalled. The usually smooth aerodynamic surface was contaminated with snow, resulting in my very poor takeoff performance. The divine sledge hammer that I felt must have been when the snow departed the aircraft and the wonderful forces of aerodynamics returned, sending me on my merry way.

Arriving home, I sat my bride down and explained to her how close I came to not coming home to her that night. I was a very sobering and humbling experience. She asked me several questions in an attempt to grasp how close my carelessness came to claiming her knight in shining armor. Not being an aviation type I’m not sure she really understood.

My carelessness, incapacity, and neglect almost turned into an accident report that listed Pilot Error as a causal factor.

In the beginning...

2008-03-11T11:05:00.007-06:00

It was my first real flying job after being an instructor. Part 135 cargo, flying an SUV, single pilot, IFR, at night, in the mountains for Diamond Air. I found myself doing the things on a regular basis that I told my former students never to do.

I was hired in early August, the hottest time of the year in New South Montucky, where afternoon temps routinely reached the upper 90’s and lower 100’s well into September. Heavy cargo loads, coupled with high temps, high density altitude and an old tired airplane made for a steep learning curve for me.

As summer turned to fall, and fall to winter I quickly became comfortable with the route, the airplane and its quirks. I was really enjoying myself having finally settled into my groove. I was used to the airports and their intricacies. I had shot the approaches to the airports on the route and I had even created a low weather visual arrival, and an instrument departure from the Hot Springs airport that was adopted by the company.

My first real test of the winter flying came with the second winter storm of the year.

The weather began to deteriorate shortly after I landed in Hot Springs. It began to snow shortly after noon. By the time my departure came along at 1630, the visibility was down to a mile and almost 1 inch of snow had accumulated. I departed Hot Springs uneventfully and turned the SUV south toward Buffalo.

The ASOS weather report at Buffalo was calling the visibility at one mile due to heavy snow and the ceiling at 700ft. It was right at minimums….

Two weeks prior, during the first winter storm, I found myself in this exact position. I was cleared for the VOR approach. I crossed the VOR, followed the procedure turn out bound and intercepted the final approach course that took me through the pass. After the pass the approach dives into the mountainous bowl down to the MDA.

Even though the weather was reported at minimums, I saw the airport about 3 miles out and was able to land, load my freight and take off w/out incident (or a missed approach)

…but I had been here before. Piece of cake. I passed the VOR and descended to the MDA. As the DME clicked down to the missed approach point, I quickly realized that I was going to miss this approach! Omigosh! I’m going to miss this approach! My first actual, by God missed approach!! How could this happen? It’s not ‘supposed to happen this way! This was not how I planned this night to go! What am I going to do? Fly the plane! Oh yeah, fly the plane.

I suddenly realized that I wasn’t flying the plane. I was just kind of there in a daze marveling at the fact that I was missing this approach. Coming back to reality, I found myself .5nm passed the missed approach point. Not good considering I was surrounded by cumulogranite, and making no attempt to rectify the situation.

I added power, retracted the flaps and the gear and began my climbing left turn back to the VOR, praying to God that I would get out of this situation alive without hitting a mountain. That would suck.

Leveling the wings in the climb I started to catch up mentally with the aircraft. All the gauges looked good. Manifold pressures, oil pressure and temps were good…hmmm. What about ice? I tuned on the wing inspection light. Everything looked good, but what was that? (insert Windows ‘something bad just happened’ sound here)

I’M ON FIRE!! Peering through the louvers on the top of the nacelle, I can look directly into the engine compartment. I saw a fiery red hot, almost white glow. That’s not fire. What is that? Oh, crap!! That is my turbo charger!! I’ve never seen it before like this. Why is it like that? What the hell is going on? Oh shiite! Mixtures! They are still at a lean cruise setting! I jam the mixture forward as I again begin to pray that molten chunks of the turbine wheel are not flowing their way to my intake valves. That would be a day wrecker.

As I began to enter the hold, the bright light that once radiated out of the nacelles had turned to a dark, almost imperceptible red glow as the added fuel began to help cool the engine. I decided that I wasn’t in the mood to try the approach again and asked ATC to join the airway home, to Big Town. The freight could wait till tomorrow.

I spent the rest of the flight watching St, Elmo’s fire dance across the wind screen fretting, and wondering if I had just baked two good engines. If I had, it would be a very expensive mistake, to the tune of about 60 grand. I wondered if I would have job, if I did in fact bake them. They seemed to be running ok, but that didn’t mean much to me at the time.

Nesting out of the airplane, and trudging to the office I noticed the chief pilot was working late. I decided I had better self disclose and take my lumps now rather than later. I told him of the situation. He reassured me that what I saw was normal and that it was unlikely that I had done any damage to the engines or turbos. He would have the maintenance guys check it out, but doubted they would find anything wrong.

“Chock it up to experience and remember it for next time”, he said, and sent me on my way.

Kind of a crappy way to learn a lesson. However, in the end, the lesson was learned, no aircraft were bent, and no lives were lost. The only thing bent was my pride and the only thing that wasn’t lost was an opportunity to learn.

NASCAR Engine Changes

2008-02-26T16:36:00.002-07:00

It started out simple enough. A small oil spot on the hangar floor a couple weeks before Christmas, complete with an oil streak running down the gear door. The plane had sat for the weekend and recently had an oil change, so it didn’t raise a big red flag. As an A&P I was comfortable tearing the cowl off the right engine and taking a look myself. I still had time before my departure to Squidtown.

As I inspected the massive, geared, Continental engine, I see nothing unusual. The oil cap is still on, the dipstick is in place and all other indications seem normal. I inspect the engine oil drain and find a small puddle of oil in the cowling directly below it.

It seems that the engine oil quick drain, although properly safety wired closed, is leaking. It must be a bad quick drain valve, or a seal or gasket internally that is in the beginning stages of failure. As I discussed the situation with the Director of Maintenance on the cell phone, it is determined that the leak in slow enough not to cause a complete loss of oil, and that the quick drain may have been inadvertently closed improperly. I cleaned up the oil in the bottom of the cowl and was pleasantly surprised to find that it is only about a tablespoon of oil in the cowl.

We decided that the quick drain needed to be changed. I chatted with the mechanic that did the original oil change, and replaced the drain. I was determined that the drain had in fact failed.

The week before Christmas is one of the busiest times of year for Royal Air. All of our aircraft are in service and flying routes all over New South Montucky. It is not the best time for an aircraft to be out of service for major maintenance work.

The oil leak had not gone away. The puddles have gotten bigger and more frequent, the streak on the gear door had gotten larger, and wiping it away only was a waste of time. Oil was leaking from the engine. That was fact. Where it was coming from was still a mystery.

The cowl was stripped off again and hosed down with solvent to clean away the oil. It was thought that the prop seal was leaking. Prop removed, inspected, reinstalled. Ops check ok. Engine through bolts, not torqued to spec or broken? Nope, ops check ok.

In an effort to trouble shoot even farther, we decided that we would run up the engine at full take off power, sans cowl and have spotters check for leaks. I’m glad I wasn’t one of those spotters. They had to stand outside in the bitter cold, enduring severe wind chill generated by the prop wash, standing next to a howling engine, while working in close proximity to a very large propeller spinning at a blistering 2300 rpm that cold easily cut a man in two.

A normal run-up produced no results. The next course of action was to run the engine as if it were producing take-off power and then reduce it to a climb power setting and then to a cruise power setting. This would simulate all the normal flight regimes on the ground hoping to produce the signs of the mysterious oil leak.

As the engines roared to full power, the SDSUV began to shudder and strain against the brakes, gently jostling me in my seat. I reduced the power to the climb power setting, and I noticed the mechanic on the outboard side of the engine take a keen interest in something. He gave me a signal that he had found something.

I taxied back to the maintenance hanger. The news wasn’t good. It was bad. Really bad.

The engine case was cracked! At high power settings oil flowed out of the case and into the cowl creating the oily mess we had been trying to track down for a good part of a week.

A decision was made. The lead mechanic and the Director of Maintenance would start Friday morning and would do a complete teardown and rebuild of the engine hoping to have it running for revenue service on Monday afternoon. It was a daunting task, but doable.

Over the course of the weekend I kept in touch with the pit crew on the progress of the NASCAR style engine change/rebuild. I even tried to help the moral by having pizza delivered to the hangar on Saturday afternoon.

On Monday I arrived at the airport to the beautifully distinctive sound of the geared Continentals echoing off the hangars near the run-up area. The Royal Air Garmin Cessna Big Box Hauler pit crew had pulled it off. It was back to the final legs of the Christmas Peak 500.

Airline pilots

2008-01-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

I know that this has been seen a hundred times by many of you. However, this still cracks me up every time I see it. One of the best comedy routines I've ever seen. They don't come much better than this.

Fishy Boo Boo’s and Wal-Mart Wednesday

2007-11-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

It has been going on for some time now. There are just those weeks where the days run together. The days go by like that movie Groundhog Day. Then a certain day of the week comes and I’m ripped back to reality by the contents of the baggage cart as they bring it planeside.

As I’m in my morning groove loading the airplane, the first of usually two boxes enter the aircraft. They are usually pretty heavy. They are about 3ftx3fx1ft. They sound as if they are filled with water because, well, they are. They are scribbled on with a giant black sharpie. “Wal-Mart – Cow Town”. The box usually has some sort of sea/underwater dwelling creature printed on the box with a Florida address printed underneath it.

Ah, It must be Wednesday. Wal-Mart Wednesday.

You see, every Wednesday since I have started this job, I have received these boxes bound for the pet section in the Wal-Mart in Cow Town. It is their weekly shipment of fish to be sold as pets. It never fails. Just like clockwork there they are on Wednesday morning.

I had no idea that the good people of Cow Town enjoyed keeping aquariums. I mean, how many pet fish can one store sell in a week?

I have never had the opportunity to see inside one of these boxes but I can only imagine. Seeing parents and children alike leave pet stores, I Imagine that they are filled with pint or quart sized bags of water containing betas, goldfish and oscars placed ever so carefully in the box.

Can you imagine that ride? That has got to be worse than Space Mountain at Disney. Swiped out of your peaceful existence by a net and put in bag. Then put in a box. Peering through the cellophane you see your buddy you saw at the Reef Bar the night before, both of you now terrified when the darkness comes as they close up the box. You’re put in the back of a delivery truck that goes to the airport. Then you are hurled through the air at close to 600 mph enduring, light to moderate turbulence at FL350, and an ILS to CAT II mins. Now you get processed through a sort unit, tossed into a baggage cart that rambles to an unpressurized aircraft that finally makes its way to Cow Town.

The final blow comes when some package truck driver grabs a hold of the box you and your buddy are in and exclaims in his best motherese voice, “Look at the little fishy boo boos!”

Yep, it’s Wednesday.

Unofficial FWP Game Counter

2007-11-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

I made my last big game counting run this morning. Well not really. At least the one that counts. The big game season started here in New South Montucky on the 21st of October. It ends Sunday night at sundown. I have spent the last few weeks, weather permitting, flying along the river between The Dive to Squidtown, looking for deer, antelope and wild turkeys.

It has been fun watching mother nature, from my lofty perch, change the landscape from the beautiful orange and golds of the trees and the green dew tipped grass that glitters in the early morning sunlight, to the wintry white landscape that Old Man Winter brought to our area earlier this week.

5 to 8 hundred feet and about 150kts seems to work pretty well. From my vantage I get to see the wild turkeys just north of the dam hanging out in the vicinity of Murphy's dairy. The deer dine on the alfalfa fields and can be found in the hills, coulees, and other areas scattered along the river bottom and associated terrain. The biggest damn antelope I've ever seen I saw just south of the coal mine. I just have to be careful of the geese that migrate south and use the river and local farmland as refuge on their way south.

I absolutely love this part of my day. It is so relaxing and I feel at home because, well, I am. This is the best leg of the route too. I know most of the people that own the land I fly over and I get to see them on a regular basis when they dine in the deli. I love to watch their harvest progress into the fall dirt work in preparation for the spring planting. I love to see the hunters in their blaze orange sneaking through the woods stalking the game that I see. Best of all some guy in an office pays me to do this. Dork.

Red Square

2007-11-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

This will drive you nuts!! (If you're not there already)

The object of the game is to move the red block around without getting hit by the blue blocks or touching the black walls.

If you can go longer than 18 seconds you are phenomenal.
The US Air Force supposedly uses this for fighter pilots.
They are expected to go for at least 2 minutes.
Give it a try but be careful...it is addictive!!

Click HERE

Must See TV

2007-11-02T09:44:00.000-06:00

Ok so I spent way to much time on the the Internet yesterday. I did, however, find a couple of videos that are worth posting.

The first link is to a new series of Delta Airlines commercials that are running on You Tube. I have found recently that a lot of companies are using sites like YT to test marketing campaigns before they go public. Not sure that this is the case here or not.

At the present time there are 4 spots that really poke fun of airlines and airline travellers (quite humorously). The title of the this series is Planeguage. Rumor has it that there will be 25 or so of these spots altogether. See them HERE.

The second video I want to show you is an amazing 2 mile race between a Eurofighter Typhoon and a Bugatti Veryon. Enjoy!

ORD Results

2007-10-31T10:05:00.000-06:00

I heard back on Monday about the results of the interview. It came down to me an one other guy. Both of us equally qualified. Both of us Pilots and A&P's. One of us from the Chicago area and the other from New South Montucky. One family they would have to pay to move to the Chicago area the other could commute from their present location. Long story short, I'm staying put.

Although I wasn't selected, it's almost a relief. I don't have to worry about packing up all of our toys and moving. I don't have to worry about selling a house in an unsettled housing market or trying to find one on the other end.

It is nice to know that my resume, times and skills are competitive out there in the 'real world' job market. It has actually been a little bit of a confidence builder to know that all of my hard work put into this industry is beginning to pay off. It is good to know that all those hours slugging around in a 172 with a student pilot, all theses hours of hauling boxes single-pilot IFR at night in the mountains, shooting approaches to mins while picking up ice has created a good foundation to build the rest of my career on.

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

-Teddy Roosevelt

Yeah, I'm a little disappointed that I wont get to fly a shiny jet around the country or be able to work with my buddy, but, I have a job to focus on here. I'll keep my finger on the pulse of the industry and see what comes along next.

Broken Wings

2007-10-27T09:28:00.000-06:00

In a previous post I told you about a couple of trips that I took during my LOA from Royal Air. The trip to Chicagoland was obviously personal, (still waiting to hear) and the second trip was on behalf of Royal Air.

Royal Air has a fleet of SUVs and SDSUVs that we use to shuttle boxes around for the Big Box Haulers. The fleet has come under some scrutiny the last couple of years in the form of an Airworthiness Directive (AD) that deals with fatigue cracks in the wing spar.

The FAA and the manufacturer of the SUV have issued AD 2005-12-12 and AD 2005-12-13 to deal with these cracks. Click HERE to read more about them. These new ADs eliminate repetitive inspections as required by AD 79-10-15 and AD 99-11-13 with the installation of a costly (read $70K+ USD) wing spar strap.

Since I‘ve been gone from the ‘office’ and the other pilots have picked up the slack in my absence, they asked me to deliver one of our SUVs to ICT to have the AD complied with. The flight was great and uneventful. It was so good and enjoyable I realized I didn’t take any pictures until after I had shot the ILS and parked in front of the FBO. I guess I was so happy to be back in the air again AND out of the routine of flying my regular route that I just plain forgot.

I got to spend the night and had time to kill the next morning before my flight. I spent my time snooping around the various aircraft manufacturing facilities in the area and visited a pilot shop that I used to frequent when I lived just southeast of ICT in the late-90’s.

On my way back to New South Montucky I got to sit in DEN for a few hours. As I sat in the food court gnawing on a leathery fast food burger I got to watch a Lufthansa 747 taxi into the gate. What an impressive machine! It might be fun to fly for about a month or so. I wonder what a guy has to do to get a job flying one of those?

ORD

2007-10-19T10:10:00.000-06:00

A few weeks a go a college buddy of mine called me on the phone. It was not highly unusual to hear from him. It was one of those deals where I had lived with him in the fraternity house, and we became friends. We have talked only a couple times a year since our college days just to touch base and keep tabs on each other. As we are both pilots and are focused pretty much on our careers and families, and live a thousand miles away from each other, I have only seen him a few times in almost ten years .

Two springs ago he happened to fly in to New South Montucky. I drove 150 miles to meet hm as he spent the day waiting on his passengers at the airport. He encouraged me to bring a resume along to give to his boss who was also on the trip. More of a networking deal than anything. At any rate I got to show face, press some palms and network a little while catching up with my buddy.

Our phone call was the usual how are ya, where are ya, what is your total time, hows life been treating you type of deal. Then he threw me a bone. That snowy spring day networking at the airport was about to pay off.

He told me that his company was going to lose a pilot and that they were looking for a replacement in their small corporate department. As they weighed their options my name popped up. Experienced pilot, A&P certificate, personal recommendation from an internal employee, seemed like a good fit.

As you can well imagine I had my resume and cover letter in a purple envelope winging its way to the greater Chicago area for review.

The next week my wife and I found ourselves winging our way to Chicagoland for an interview.

They paid our airfare, rental car, and put us up in the company hotel for the weekend as I/we interviewed. They encouraged me to bring Mrs. Scudrunner along as this was a family owned company and families should make decisions together. Aside from the 1-on-1 interview with the chief pilot, Mrs. S. was encourage to come along on the company tour and see what her husband would be doing and flying to bring home the bacon. We also spent time looking at some of the 'burbs near where the a/c is based to find ourselves a suitable community in which to live if we were offered the job.

Here are a few pictures of the trip...

Quite possibly my new ride

Citation Excel

Me and the Chief pilot checking out the 'office'.

The courtyard at the hotel.

Downtown Chicago

I should know next week whether or not we need to pack our toys in the wagon and go to Chicago.

Getting back to normal

2007-10-12T09:00:00.000-06:00

Well, it has been just a little over two months since my father passed away. Funny how my post from July has the last picture I took of him as we flew together.

Aside from adapting to this new chapter in life, I have been helping my mother out in her home and in the family business as we transition to this new era in our lives.

I took a small leave of absence from Royal Air, understandable of course, in this difficult time. It was probably a wise decision to stay out of a cockpit for a few weeks to give myself time to sort things out. Yet, like many pilots, I find peace and solace in the left seat doing what I know how to do. If it wasn't for my faith in God and knowing that he has a plan for all of us I'd be in really bad shape.

I've been back to work for about 3 weeks now and in that time, I've made a couple of interesting trips I'll blog about later.

I love flying this time of year, harvest is almost over, the leaves are turning color, and hunting season is almost here. From my lofty perch I get to see the farmers harvest their crops and tend to the fall work in their fields. I get to see where the wild game I will soon hunt, congregate and move, so that I may plan a successful hunt. Best of all, I get to see all the autumn colors of God's divine palette.

The weather here in New South Montucky, is usually pretty good this time of year as well. The Indian summer days make flying a breeze, except for the cold front that came through last week. It gave me a chance to knock the rust off of my instrument skills and it made the fall scenery that much more beautiful buy capping the mountains to the north in a beautiful white blanket. It won't be long until I get to inhale that two-stroke cold smoke.

Before I go I want to leave you with this...
I ran across a link to this guy's You Tube page. His name is Ramasurinen. He has made about 10 or so 5-10 minute flying videos that will blow your mind. They are all done in MSFS X. His latest film Vectors is great and very humorous. A word of caution: Don't go here if you don't have an hour or so to kill. This rabbit trail goes pretty deep if you let it. ;o)

All Honor to His Name

2007-08-12T08:54:00.000-06:00

10-20-1942 to 08-08-07

The man that taught me that airplanes were cool, the man that helped me spark my interest in aviation by dragging me along to the airport, and the man that encouraged me to reach for my dreams, has flown into the western sunset.

He was a man of unparalleled wisdom, an unending supply of compassion, an unlimited supply of 'old man strength' and possessed of a deep faith in Jesus Christ. He lived vicariously through us boys and our careers and beamed with pride when he spoke of us. He was a loving husband to his wife and set an example for his children to follow. He was a friend, a brother, and most of all, a father.

I love you dad. We'll miss you.

Some recent pictures

2007-07-13T15:17:00.001-06:00

Here are a few select pictures from some recent flights...

The landscape between Cowtown and The Big Dive.

My Dad doing a fine job at the controls.
(btw he is a licensed pilot)

Sunrise in Big Town over the SDSUV.

Sunrise over one of the SUV's.

Loretta

2007-07-05T19:04:00.000-06:00

As I fly on my routes in New South Montucky, I often monitor the Common Traffic Advisory Frequencies (CTAF) of the airports that I fly over or go to. The CTAF is a frequency that will allow pilots to self announce their positions and intentions at airports that are not served by control towers.

For months now I have been hearing transmissions from one of our competitors’ pilots (I’ll call him Maverick) a couple times a week, on the CTAF frequency, that have baffled me to no end. They seem to me to be random and out of the blue. They go a little something like this:

“Good morning Loretta! Looking like it’s going to be a wonderful day. The forecast is calling for lots of sunshine today and not too hot. There might be some showers later tonight. It might be a great day to get out and work in the yard. I hope you have a great day. Take care now, and we’ll chat with you tomorrow!”

There is never any sort of reply. No voices, no transmissions or Morse code. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Some mornings there is poetry, songs, commentary or a comment on local and current events. I’ve actually gotten to the point where I looked forward to hearing “the next episode”.

Hmmmm. Interesting.

I have contemplated long and hard about who this mysterious woman might be or what these transmissions might mean.

I wonder if she is Maverick’s mistress/girlfriend. Maybe it is the code for them to rendezvous at some undisclosed predetermined location, and she listens for him on her hand held scanner.

Or maybe she was a past lover or maybe a daughter that was tragically killed in a vehicle accident on a portion of highway that he flies over daily and this is his way of remembering her.

It could be simply that he is just bored and makes these transmissions to add a little spice to his trip and make guys like me ponder it on my trip to pass the time.

I asked my chief pilot, Sven, if he had heard Maverick’s on air morning salutations. He in fact had, and when queried if he knew who Loretta was, he was no help either. He did say that the comments were always interesting and they gave him something to think about as he flew.

I did some more detective work by asking a few guys in the crew room if they had heard the snippets and if they knew who Loretta was. Many had heard them, yet nobody knew who she was.

I guess I’m going to have to ask Maverick myself. Unfortunately, Maverick flies for a different Big Box Hauler and as a result has a different base than I do. His outstation, Dogtown, is at an airport about 50nm northwest of my outstation. I really can’t just walk up to him and say ‘Hi’. I rarely go to Dogtown, and when I do, Mav is usually not there. He has either gone to his crash pad or has not arrived.

It may be months before I run into him again. I guess time will tell. Until then I guess I’ll just listen for the ‘next episode’.

Where Have You Been??

2007-06-25T19:57:00.001-06:00

In an effort to keep myself busy at my outstation and as a result of needing to scratch a creative itch, I started this blog, hoping it would keep me busy. However it was relatively short lived. Recently my time and energy have been diverted to a new part time job I have acquired in Squidtown.

There is this little deli type joint I have been eating at several times a week . The food is inexpensive and you get a bunch. (more than enough to feed a hungry freight pilot) The atmosphere is really laid back and the table by the water fountain and pond is the best.

The menu consists of home made soups, mountainous salads, sandwiches the size of dinner platters and wraps the size of footballs. They usually have a daily special that is always an adventure in eating, and the fresh baked cookies, bars and brownies help keep my girlish figure in check.

I was saddened to learn recently (read April) that the waitress Michelle was quitting and that the owners had yet to find a suitable replacement. After chatting with the owners about the oddities of my schedule I decided to apply for the job. Wouldn’t you know it I was hired on the spot. A slightly lower wage was negotiated in return for a “crew meal” at the end of my shift and as a result this cheap freight pilot works for food and some extra cash.

When I arrive at Squidtown in the morning, I tend to my pilot duties of putting the SUV to rest in the stable and then off to the deli I go! I help the cook prep for the day, and as customers file in for the mid-day meal I trade my wings for an apron and a ticket book and wait tables during the lunch rush.

I never thought that I would enjoy a job in the food service industry. However, I have been proven wrong and have really taken a liking to the job, chatting and joking with the customers as I serve them their Pleased to Meat You sandwiches and Tatonka Chicken wraps.

As the day winds down, I help clean up the dining room, wash dishes, and prep for the next day. I arrive back at the airport in time to perform my preflight duties, receive my freight and launch back into the wild blue yonder.

Snow Snakes

2007-03-29T19:33:00.000-06:00

I felt kind stupid the first time it happened. Then it happened again the next week, a little different, but it happened. Two storms, two weeks, two incidences of vetigo, I gotta tell you about this.

Spring is just around the corner here in New South Montucky. We hare had a fairly mild winter. The snow has been poor to crap, severely limiting my ability to enjoy my other passion. The storms/snow we did get blanketed the earth in a few inches of the white stuff, only to be blown into neighboring states or melted by the above average temps a few days later. The longest the snow stuck around was maybe a week. Ten days at best. One of these storms, the same weather system that gave Jet Blue a black eye, affected Squidtown a few days earlier.

It was the end of the storm, and the first VFR day since the snow flew. The Squid Town airport manger and his crew had done a great job of removing snow off the various airport surfaces. So good in fact, that the surfaces were bare and dry.

I had started my preflight a little early so that I could facilitate a few minutes extra in my schedule. I wanted to make sure the TSIO-520’s that power the SUV were good and warm before I asked them for warp speed.

I taxied the SUV into the run-up area where I positioned myself into the 18-20 kt wind. I set the brakes, set the engine power to a high idle, checked to see that the oil temp was on the rise and reached for the manifest to finish up the weight and balance calculations.

Heads down, engines warming, I began to punch the numbers into the calculator and transfer them to the manifest. As I worked, I began to feel strangely disoriented and dizzy. “YOU’RE MOVING!” my mind screamed as I smashed the brakes to the firewall. I looked up only to see long ribbons of drifting snow, 10-12 ft long, snaking past the aircraft….

…It was the mid eighties and dad and I were on the way to a local ranch to work cattle. I would get to be dad’s “helper” today. I stared out the window at the -15 degree New South Montucky snowscape as the old grey Ford rattled down the county road. Riding in Old Grey was always an adventure. Dad made it a point to show my brother and I local landmarks, where the crossroads led, various client ranches, native plants and grasses, and of course, the veterinarian’s favorite, wild life.

“Look! Snow Snakes!” dad exclaimed. I peeled my tongue from the frosty window expecting to see white, scaly reptiles slithering on the road. Yet in the back of my mind I wondered how on earth a reptile would move on such a cold day.

“Nuh Uh!” I exclaimed back as my eyes scanned the road, spotting only those long ribbons of drifting snow, snaking their way diagonally across the road…..

Two weeks later I find myself turning base to final to runway 12 at Cow Town after our latest snow storm. The winds are 100 degrees 27 gusting to 35. I notice, contrary to the NOTAM for 1” loose snow, that the airport manager has plowed the runway or the wind has carried the snow to the next state. The runway appears bare and dry save for the snow snakes crawling diagonally across the runway.

I plant the SUV on the piano keys, knowing that in this wind I will easily make intersection Charlie. As I near the intersection, snow snakes passing harmlessly under the wings, it suddenly dons on me that at this rate of speed I will in fact NOT make Charlie.

Quickly sizing up the situation and sensory overload reaching it’s climax, I discover with a quick test of the brakes, that the runway is dry and that the brakes are working properly and yet the runway lights have stopped moving, while the runway continues to rush past.

When my mind finally catches up to my body and the rest of the aircraft, I find myself 50’ short of the intersection, standing on the brakes in the middle of the runway, sitting in a motionless airplane whose props are idly slicing and dicing snow snakes as they race past the aircraft at 30 kts.

I hope nobody is watching, because I feel pretty stupid right now. Stupid snow snakes.

Packing Materials

2007-02-21T10:40:00.000-07:00

There are many ways to protect the goods you send via the Big Box Haulers. My advice after casual observation, is to pack things as if they are going to get broke, but that is a whole other post. The focus of this post is the materials that people use to package their items and how they apply to me and my job.

Paper/News Paper

I don’t see much of this type of packing material. Mainly because the packages that have paper as the main packing material don’t bust open inside my aircraft. This is one of my favorite PM’s. As a receiver of such goods packed in paper, it can be mildly messy. Just because of the sheer volume of paper that is usually used to protect the contents. It also has the tendency to fill trash receptacles rather quickly. Boxes using paper as the main PM are usually lighter than most and may have a bulging appearance.

Ghost Poop/Foam Peanuts

If I ever meet the guy that invented this stuff, I’m gonna choke the living crap out of him. I usually see this type of PM falling out of boxes that are heavy. I have no idea why. People seem to pack objects such as pipe couplings, pump motors, bowling balls, and other heavy dense objects, usually with sharp corners and add peanuts as an afterthought, just to occupy space inside the box. By the time these boxes reach me at planeside, they usually have holes or tears in them. Each time they are handled about 3 cups of the PM puffs out of the FOD generating holes. They are most often seen tumbling along in herds, with the wind, racing towards the air carrier ramp. I wonder how much ghost poop would have to be ingested by a 737 or A320 before it wrecks an engine. The other place that they are commonly seen is on the floor of my SUV. I looks as if a ghost crapped all over in the back of the plane. I swear the damn things breed in flight. I either have to sweep or vacuum out the aircraft in order to dispose of them. They are nasty to get in a package as well. Extremely hard to dispose of, they occupy large volumes of trash receptacle volume, stick to you hands and arms, and run from a statically charged broom.

Air Bags

I don’t know what else to call them. Little plastic pouches filled with air.(Click Video Link) How ingenious!! Easy to handle, I never see them, not messy, simply poke with a box cutter or scissors and they go flat, making disposal a breeze. They were my absolute favorite until Thursday…

I had just departed Big Town, on my regular route. I had leveled out at 12,000, finished up the cruise checklist and began to do the weight and balance. Otto was at the helm as I furiously and intensely plugged numbers into the calculator, and diligently wrote them on the manifest. That is when it happened. I heard, over the ANR headset and the drone of the engines, a muffled POP! It was even strong enough to make the seat jolt slightly! I quickly discarded the manifest and calculator, shut Otto off and took the helm myself. A quick check of the engine instruments and a glance outside to the engines revealed nothing out of the ordinary. As far as I could tell there were no noxious fumes or smoke in the cabin. After a few minutes of intense sniffing, looking, and checking I came to the conclusion that I had either hit a B-1RD or some freight had shifted in the back of the aircraft. The rest of the flight was uneventful.

When I landed in The Dive, the driver and I unloaded the last of the boxes off the SUV. The second to last box located directly behind my seat, against the cargo net, I noticed, was open. It was as if it were forcefully opened along the top seam. The box and the packing tape were both torn. Curious, I peered inside to examine the contents of the said box. And what, you ask, did I find? A box filled with my little air bag friends….

Near as I can tell, the climb to 12,000, in an unpressurized aircraft, caused these little buggers to expand. The plastic, unable to contain the air trapped inside, gave way and exploded much like a balloon would if you filled it too far. The resulting ‘explosion’ ripped open the top of the box and sent a little concussion wave to the back of my seat through the cargo net, causing my two minutes of panic.

Lesson learned.

Note to self: Airbags may go off in flight.

I'm Back

2007-02-11T19:10:00.000-07:00

Man, almost a whole month since I have posted. I have just been plane busy. (Pun intended) One of the guys at Royal Air quit middle of last month, messing with my schedule. Plus, I have made a couple of lifestyle changes in the last month and I have also acquired a new computer. So I have not been as diligent in my posts as I should have been. Anyway today's content is actually pirated from a mass email sent to me from my sister in law. Although not all of it may be factual, the underlying tones are spot on in my opinion. Enjoy!!

When you see a Pilot... he's not getting paid!

When you see a pilot going through the same security you go through, he's not being paid.
When you see a pilot walking in the terminal, he's not being paid.
When you see a pilot walking around the aircraft doing a preflight inspection, he's not being paid.
When you board the aircraft and look in the cockpit and see the pilots setting up the aircraft, they're not getting paid.
When you land safely at your destination and walk off the aircraft and see the pilots shutting down the aircraft, they're not being paid
When you see a pilot waiting for a ride to a hotel for the night, he's not being paid.
The only time the pilot of your aircraft is getting paid is when you DON"T see him... when he's locked behind the cockpit door as you push back from the gate. Every thing else he does until this point is for free. For no wages. Nothing!
The average airline pilot is at work for 12- 14 hours per day, yet gets paid for less than 6 - 7 hours.
The average airline pilot is away from home, at work, for 70+ hours a week, yet gets paid for only 15 to 18 hours per weeks work.
Most pilots schedules have them working 15 to 21 days a month... that means they are not at home half to three-fourths of every month. Yet the public usually only reads about those few exceptions that have 20 days off (though in their last few years before retirement).
Holidays, weekends, birthdays, anniversaries, summer vacations.... not at home.
A majority of pilots have 4 year college degrees, or more. Then they begin training as pilots.
A large majority of Pilots have spent 8 years or more flying in the military, risking their lives and protecting your freedom for wages most of you wouldn't accept in the civilian world.
Civilian trained pilots have spent $50,000 or more to acquire the training that qualifies them for a Regional Airline job, which pays a wage less than the poverty level in most western countries.
Most pilots do not attain the required experience level to be hired by a major airline until they are well passed the age of 30. The average age of a new hire airline pilot is 32.
Until the year 2009, airline pilots were required to retire at the age of 60. This gave most of them less than 28 years to maximize their income and fund their pensions, hoping that greedy airline execs won't steal it. Today, they still have to worry about the greedy execs.
Airline pilots are subject to random drug and alcohol testing, any time they are at work. Fail it and they lose their job.
Airline pilots are required to undergo rigorous re-training and certification every 6 months, at which time they could fail and lose their jobs, licenses and livelihood.
Airline pilots are required to submit to random government "Line checks" during which their license could be revoked and livelihood destroyed.
Airline pilots are exposed to radiation levels far exceeding the normal safe radiation limits mandated by the FDA.
Airline pilots are required to submit to a government medical examination every 6 months. Year after year. Fail that, and their career is over.
How many of you go to work where people try to kill you? How many of you have had your office turned into a missile? How many of you work behind a bullet proof door?
How many of you are responsible for the lives of 200- 300 people, with any small mistake in your performance resulting in the death of your customers (and yourselves), and serious financial setback or destruction of your company?
How many of your jobs require you to fight your way through thunderstorms, rain, snow, ice and turbulence, day and night, year after year? No mistakes allowed? The excuse " I had a bad day at work" never accepted?
Many pilots volunteer (on their own time and own dime) to be trained as Federal Flight Deck Officers, and carry weapons to defend their aircraft, crew and passengers. They maintain their proficiency and qualifications twice a year on their own time and money.
How many of you go to work where you are searched, patted down and your personal items scrutinized by strangers for weapons and bombs, even though you can kill everyone in your place of work with just your bare hands?
Airline pilot pay scales and hours worked are usually posted by absurdly overcompensated Airline Exec's who wage a PR campaign against their Pilot Unions and trying to justify their own greedy bonus's and draconian wage and pension cuts. Cheap airline passengers just love this since they don't care if their airplane is flown by the lowest denominator, as long as they can fly for next to nothing. Of course if they don't get to their destination, their next of kin can sue....

John Deere

2007-01-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

The other night I was flying along at 10,000ft in the SUV. I was really enjoying my last flight for the week, the drone of the engines, the unusual warmth of the Janitrol heater and some descent weather for this time of year. As the lights from the farms and ranches of New South Montucky slid under the wings, I marveled at all the domestic and international traffic on frequency. Life was good. The radio came to life …

JD4630: Good evening Center, John Deere 4630 checking in FL410.

Center: John Deere 4630, Center, Roger.

I couldn’t resist. I just had to say on the radio what went through my mind.

Me: I didn’t know John Deere made airplanes.

JD4630: We don’t. We’re actually a Citation X going to KBFI.

Me: Let me guess, your aircraft is painted John Deere green?

JD4630: (chuckling) No, but our wheels are painted yellow like the tractors.

Me: No kidding?

JD4630: Yeah. We actually get made fun of once in a while but it is all in good fun.

Me: I can only imagine. Have a nice flight.

JD4630: You too.

Wow. Who knew? Its flights and radio chatter like this that make me feel good about being a pilot. It brings joy to my heart and a smile to my face.

Super Duty SUV

2007-01-05T21:13:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks before Christmas, in preparation for the big Christmas package hauling rush, the company checked me out in the Super Duty SUV (SDSUV). Man what a treat! I love flying this airplane!

The SDSUV is considerably bigger than the SUV. Its gross weight is 1600lb (725.7kg) heavier than the SUV. The engines are essentially the same. However, the SDSUV’s engines are rated at 50 hp more, as well as geared and swing a much bigger three bladed prop. Not to mention that they sound really cool.

The aircraft handles fairly well. It reminds me of how the Ambulance handled, or maybe one of those gigantic land yachts they used to drive in the 70’s. (Maybe some of you have driven one)

The first day on the line with my new ride the rampers brought me 2250lbs (1020.5kg) of freight. The weight of the boxes plus the day's required fuel load brought my gross weight about 50lbs (22.7kg) shy of the 8400lb (3810kg) limit. The SDSUV handled the load wonderfully and performed much better than expected. Most aircraft I have flown are gutless wonders at or near gross weight. I don’t think that the plane knew it was so heavy. I know it didn’t act like it.

Landings in this aircraft are a breeze. The SDSUV is rock solid in the approach configuration and the flare is a bit flatter than the SUV I’m used to commanding. However, at low gross weights, it requires full nose up trim and a fairly healthy dose of bicep in the flare.

The trailing link landing gear makes me look like a pro. My occasional carrier landings are now virtually non-existent (tail hook not included, void where prohibited, no purchase necessary)

Now that the guys in the brown and purple suits and the one guy in the red suit have slowed down, I have been sent back to my SUV flying duties. The SDSUV will be outfitted with carpet and seats for the charter department and be placed on standby for the freight fleet to handle those occasional heavier loads.

I hope to be able to climb into the left seat of the SDSUV again real soon.

2006-12-24T09:21:00.000-07:00

Let us remember the reason for the Season...

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"[c]

Merry Chistmas to all!!!

Scudz

Getting Powder

2006-12-17T01:08:00.000-07:00

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

I have no idea where to begin.

Critters

2006-12-17T01:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, hunting season came to a close here in New South Montucky. As an avid hunter and outdoorsy type of person I have enjoyed my time traipsing around the countryside with my guns in tow. This is also one of my favorite times of the year to fly. I enjoy looking for places to hunt while trying to spot game from my lofty perch.

Sometimes, much to my chagrin, the critters seem to find me.

For example, Cow Town, one of my usual stops has been a virtual goose gathering area. The Cow Town airport is located on top of the hills west of the river, surrounded by crop land on all sides. The open water of the river and the crop residue left in the field from the harvest is a goose magnet. There are about four flocks of geese numbering in the hundreds that I have had to dodge in recent weeks. Each flock sends up recon flights of 15- 20 birds to torment inbound and outbound aircraft.

My first encounter, an early AM arrival, had me lined up for runway 22. At about ¾ mile final the ground began to move. Not me flying over it, the dirt, like waves on a pond on a windy day. Suddenly I realized I was descending on top of and into a couple of recon patrols I had spooked up off of the earthen field below me.

Pulling the control wheel gently toward me and adding a little power, I arrested my descent and sailed above them to a smooth landing.

A few mornings later, departing runway 4, the solitude of the Cow Town morning was disrupted buy the sound of my engines turning avgas into massive amounts of noise. As the takeoff roll began I noticed that my gas guzzling, air breathing machine had launched an entire squadron of geese ahead and to my right.

Their flight path was much like mine. They departed parallel to the runway and began to climb straight out. They must have not been on the radio with the same controllers as me. The lead goose decided to take the squadron into a left hand turn across the runway towards the safety of the river. It was about this time that I became airborne.

As the wheels rose and clunked into the wheel wells I quickly realized that things could get messy in a hurry. Climbing would make an awful mess of blood and feathers so I pushed the nose over and headed down towards the pavement. 8-10 feet looked like a good place to level off. As the airspeed ripped through 120 KTS, it looked like I would pass below the now panicked geese which were scattering in all directions. I goosed (ducked), held my breath, and waited for the worst.

Surprised I had not heard or felt any impacts on the SUV I removed myself from the fetal position and started my turn for a left downwind departure.

I really don’t like encounters with birds any larger than your common robin or jay. Not only do these encounters with our feathered friends raise a pilot’s blood pressure, they can also have costly results as seen here and here.

I think that I like encounters with geese better when I’m the hunter.

Conspiracy Theory

2006-12-11T12:43:00.000-07:00

Where in the world has Aviatrix gone? She has abruptly signed off to take a break from blogging. What event in the fabric of life could change the habits of a faithful daily poster?
Here are my additions to the conspiracy theories.

Is it possible that her recent tip to California yielded a job interview and subsequent move to the US? Maybe she got a job flying the company jet for a computer company that her friends work for. Or possibly flying for some rich individual in wine country.

Maybe it was Sam. I think he got her a job at that regional airline that he flies for in the Pacific Northwest. I know that they currently are hiring. I think that it would be fun to fly a Megawhacker or Barbie Jet

Better yet it was Sulako. I know his company has been looking for a few good pilots. They sure could use a good stick like our dear friend Aviatrix.

No, I know what it was. One of her faithful readers found a cure for DVT in Nepal and she has sold all of her possessions to go and find that Sherpa Medicine Man. Better yet what if she did move to the US to get an unrestricted medical certificate. I hope she comes to New South Montucky so I can buy her a cup of coffee and share “There I was…” stories with her.

My hope and prayer for her is this. She was successful on her Mammal Hunt and is now in ground school and just doesn’t have time to blog. Going through company indoc, learning SOP and systems is much more important than filling our pea sized minds with stories form the great white north.

Aviatrix my friend, Squawk VFR, frequency change approved. We’ll see you on the return trip.

I wonder if she got married….?

This is the Coolest...

2006-12-07T21:34:00.000-07:00

thing I have seen in a while. Not anywhere near aviation related but worth a peek.

Nesting

2006-11-30T06:57:00.000-07:00

There is this process in which pilots move into or out of an airplane with their personal belongings. The frequency depends on the pilot and the nature of the flying. Aircraft owners for example are not typically nesters in a sense as they may only nest a few times in a life time. Flight crews for example are frequent nesters, nesting into and out of several aircraft in a week. To me, it seemed that the thoroughness to which I nested into an aircraft has depended largely on what point I’m at in my flying career.

As a student pilot I was, like most student pilots, too naïve to understand the complexities of nesting. At that time all I ever needed was my logbook. It contained my student pilot license/medical certificate taped conveniently on the inside cover. The log book itself contained the various endorsements and authorizations from my instructor on the pages contained therein. Occasionally, when circumstances dictated, you would find the sectional chart that depicted the vast area of New South Montucky jammed inside the cover as well. The aircraft at the flight school where I learned to fly had headsets in them. As a result there was never any need to own a headset. Nesting into the training aircraft consisted of tossing my log book and its contents on the right seat.

As I entered University, it quickly became apparent that nesting would take on a whole new shape. I actually had to purchase my own headset, flight bag, course materials, flight syllabus, student copies of the aircraft flight manual, standard operating procedures, and standardization manual. Let’s not forget the 45 miles of checklists, new sectional charts, pens, pencils, calculator, plotters and my good friend the E6B. I never knew that pilots had to own so much junk. Flying was nothing like this back home.

Nesting at University consisted of lugging this gynormous flight bag plane side, and carefully and methodically placing the contents of the bag into the aircraft. First up was the headset. Necessary for communication (apparently), it was plugged into the aircraft intercom, the cords where arranged so that upon entering the aircraft you didn’t hang yourself, and the headset was placed on the glare shield or hung on the control column. The sectional charts were next, arranged and folded to depict the days current practice area and neatly stowed between the wall and the seat. The lesson plan for today and the aircraft checklist were removed and placed on your knee board for easy access and reference during flight. This was stowed under the seat and put on shortly after the cabin door was closed. The rest of the requisite materials remained in the flight bag until they were needed. Otherwise, the flight bag was placed in the center of the back seat and strapped in order to reach it during flight. Seems like something was always needed out of it at some point during the lesson. The heavy winter jacket and winter weather gear were stowed on the back seat in the vicinity of the flight bag. The aircraft keys were removed from the dispatch binder and placed on the glare shield and the binder put into the flight bag on the back seat. I was now properly nested to begin my lesson. All of these items were collected and placed back into the flight bag at the conclusion of the lesson.

Upon Graduation from University I went to work as a Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) in the Deep South. Nesting again took on a new look. This time, I was able to nest into my own office complete with a desk and file cabinets. Nesting into the aircraft was up to the student. The nesting materials of a CFI consisted of my headset, instructor copy of the flight syllabus, and if needed, a view limiting device. Most of the time I could even get away with leaving my belongings in the aircraft between lessons because I scheduled my lessons back to back in the same aircraft.

When I took the job in Big Town flying the Ambulance, nesting got easier. All I needed was my headset and the aircraft coffee pot. No office. No desk. Everything was kept in the aircraft save for the said coffee pot and the charts for the East Coast.

As I have begun to settle into the new job flying the SUV for Royal Air, it has become apparent that the flight bag and all the toys inside would become a necessity again. I don’t fly the same plane every day, my routes change, and I have come to expect the occasional charter. So now I have gone back somewhat to the days of University lugging around a bag full of headsets, pens, pencils, Jepp binders, The Good Book, company ops manual and a self issued Nalgene bottle. I take the time daily to take the required materials out of the flight bag and place them in the cockpit.

Nesting in and out of the various company SUV’s has become a fine tuned process. A process that can be completed in just a few minutes on a good day or less in the event of a sudden and last minute aircraft change.

I’m sure that other pilots have nesting routines similar to mine that they go through on a daily basis. My nesting routine, no doubt will continue to evolve and develop with my current job and my career. It might be fun to watch.

So, my friends, how do you nest?

God's Sense of Humor

2006-11-24T21:20:00.000-07:00

It is no secret that I started this new job with Royal Air. Although the job is great, and I 'm having a great time, it is not what I pictured while praying and begging God for a new job.

You see, in aviation when pilots think about a new job they are usually thinking about and striving for a job that is Bigger, Better, and Faster than their current one. Apply the BBF principal in any way you like. Bigger plane, better pay, faster upgrade. Bigger pay, better work conditions, faster airplane. I think that you catch my drift.

When I thought of my new job, the plane was bigger, flew higher and faster than the one I was currently flying..AND had shiny paint and burned Jet A. I wanted to fly more hours, have a better schedule, and most of all, better pay. So I prayed for a better job. Mostly out of desperation , on those days when flying went from that "glamorous profession" to just another stinking job. (Yes, pilots have those days.)

So now the joke is on me. Hiring on with Royal Air I got exactly what I asked for, a better job. I got a better schedule, more vacation, a retirement package, and a $10K/ year raise. I didn't get what I saw in my head; A big shiny jet that went 400MPH and flew at altitudes where the sky turned blue. God is a funny man. It will be interesting to see how this job plays out in the future, and what impact it has on my career.

Decision Day

2006-11-22T14:16:00.000-07:00

I've been in this rut lately where I'm tired of flying the Ambulance. Like most pilots I want to go bigger, better, faster. I'm the most junior pilot here with not much opportunity for advancement. I only get 20 - 25 hours a month with very little, if any Pilot-in-Command time. However, the time that I do get is all turbine. The management here has changed recently as our company has been bought out by non-aviation types looking for an investment opportunity. (enter hysterical laughter here) Although I don't agree with the decisions that they make, it is my job to carry out the policy and fly the mission. Right?

I'm one of those guys who regularly keeps his 'finger on the pulse' of what flying jobs are out there. I make it a habit to frequently visit webs sites, message boards and read trade publications that might advertise my next flying gig. I have laid awake at night praying that God would deliver me from this personal hell that I feel is my job. I have numerous resumes out but the telephone ain't ringing.

So out of the blue, a couple of days ago (ok more than a week) the Mentor offered me a job. I told him I'd get back to him in a week to ten days, as I was leaving the country for some much needed R&R. It gave me time to ponder my options. Althought the job isn't bigger, better, faster, it is actually, smaller, better pay, and slower. I've flown an SUV before, but I never thought that I would return to the cockpit of one. The pay is better; about $8 - 10K per year better. Plus, it would be scheduled flying. No more being tied to the cell phone and beeper. No more getting woken up at 3AM to fly half way across New South Montucky to peel some drunk teens off the road after they rolled their car after prom.

The Chief Pilot here at Diamond doesn't seem to want me or need me for that matter in the charter department, even though there are vacancies that need to be filled.

I guess it is time to write my resignation letter...

Royal Air, here I come!!!

The 'View

2006-11-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

It is a typical day in Big Town, New South Montucky. I am doing my own thing around the house, hoping to get a few things done before the phone rings. I’ve debated whether or not to change the oil in the truck. As an Ambulance driver you tend not to get involved in too many projects that you can’t drop in a moments notice and hurry to the airport. Knowing my luck I would get the oil all drained out of the truck and then the phone would ring, beckoning me to go and fly the Ambulance. Then it would be a mad dash to change the filter, put the required six quarts of Quaker State’s finest into the engine, put my toys away, clean up, change into my uniform while driving to the airport, check the weather, pull the ambulance out of the hangar, and perform the preflight checks, all within the required 20 minute ready time. I guess the oil change can wait until I go off duty.

As I begin to mentally taste the adult beverage I would like to consume after work, I pull the mower out of the garden shed and right on queue, my pocket begins to ring with that all too familiar tone. Such is the life of an Ambulance pilot. I must go.

An hour and a half later I find myself sitting on the dilapidated couch in the FBO in Squidtown, NSMT, waiting for the medical crew to return to the airport with our patient. (Ironically Squid Town is where I grew up and where my parental units still reside. The owner of the FBO just happens to be the guy that taught me how to fly almost two decades ago. (It’s been that long?))

I pass the time thumbing through that latest pilot porn magazine, swapping ‘There I was…’ stories with my former mentor, when suddenly the conversation took an interesting turn. It went a little some thing like this…

“So, Scuds, did you hear that Orville quit me?” he said.

“Yeah, I did, sorry to hear that. Who’s flying for ya now?”

“Some temp guy from the west coast.”

Insert awkward silence here.

“Say, you should come to work for me!” he said excitedly.

Chuckling I said, “Man I don’t want to fly for you.”

“C’mon take yer turn in the barrel!”

“I don’t want to fly for you.” I repeated.

My mind now began to churn on this sudden job prospect.

“C’mon Scud”

“No”

“Going once”

“No”

“Going twice”

“No way.” My mind now running at Mach 4.

“Going..”

“OK! OK!” I interrupted. “Let me call you when I get home tonight. I probably shouldn’t be discussing this with you while I’m on duty and in uniform.”

I called him back earlier this evening after I had put the Ambulance to bed and had a few minutes to unwind. We discussed the details (schedule, pay, days off, benefits, etc.) and by the end of the phone call he had made me a pretty lucrative offer. I guess without even knowing it I interviewed and was offered a job today. Looks like I have some decisions to make…

Cleared for Takeoff Too

2006-11-10T22:04:00.000-07:00

Allow myself to introduce, myself. My name is Scud Runner. Although I have had other jobs in the aviation industry, I’m what some may call a freight dawg.
I live in a small metropolis I call Big Town in New South Montucky.
I fly a cabin class twin engine aircraft (SUV) for a small company that contracts freight for one of the Big Box Haulers. I’m a thirty-something year old male that is old enough to know better and at times, is still too young to care. I fly a fairly regular schedule (4-6 Days a week) putting in the max allowed 14 hour duty days. (at least that is what the paperwork says)

I feel that I know my job and do it very well. (not cocky here just confident) I feel that it is important for a pilot know and be able to operate his or her machine in every corner of the flight envelope. I think it is also important for a pilot to know his or her own physical limitations very well and know where those boundaries are. Lapses in judgment and flying your aircraft out side of those limits can lead to tragic and fatal results. My personal limits may, at times seem too conservative or wildly excessive depending on your perception. I want you the reader to understand that when I do my job I try to make decisions based on sound judgment and the safest way to accomplish the task at hand. Keep this in mind as you read.

These are the stories of my adventures. I hope that you will enjoy them!

Cleared for Takeoff

2006-11-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

So I have finally done it. I’ve ventured off into the wild blue yonder in an attempt to carve out a spot, or at the very least, make a mark in cyberspace. I guess the purpose of this blog is to share my experiences with my family and friends, and you, John and Jane Q. Public.

My hope is first of all to entertain my friends and family and give them insight into my life as an aviator/pilot. Pilots, I find, are still a mysterious bunch. The day to day activities we go through seem so mundane and routine to us, but are wildly amazing to those who are aviation challenged.

I’m not sure, exactly, where this adventure into the digital world may lead. You see, as we venture out to accomplish various tasks in this life, they inevitably take on a life of their own. This blog may not be a suitable forum in which I want to share my tales. A pod cast, I may find, is more suitable. We’ll have to wait and see. For now, here am I.

DISCLAIMER

My intent is to entertain and inform. It is NOT my intent to slander, libel, degrade, or belittle anyone or any organization that I am associated with, belong to or interact with. As the Pilot-in-Command (PIC) I reserve the right to change my mind or the rules on a case by case basis.