Out of commission

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

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

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

"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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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’.