Category Archives: Flying

It Doesn’t Get ANY Better Than This!

When you get up in the morning, you never know where the day is going to take you. I did something today that was a life-long dream, with absolutely no idea that it was going to happen until it did.

For a card-carrying space cadet since my father dragged me out of bed at Zero-Dark-Thirty in 1961 to wait hours for Scott Carpenter to launch, I’ve always loved anything that flew.

Here in the 21st Century, the ultimate #1 coolest thing that I would sell my soul for is a trip to orbit. Soyuz, Virgin, Dream Chaser, Boeing — none of that matters. ISS, Bigelow, someone else — totally irrelevant. I want to someday see the planet Earth in my rear-view mirror!

#2 on the list, not too far down the ūber-awsome list, would be a chance to ride with the Blue Angels (F-18) or Thunderbirds (F-16). Ground level at 400 knots to 10,000 feet in under a minute, please, with the full aerobatic program to follow, pretty please with sugar on top!

#3 in my fantasies, again just a small step down the awsomesauce scale, would be flying in a P-51, the fastest and most feared fighter of World War II. I love seeing them scream by at air shows, I love hearing their 1500 horsepower engines turning fuel into noise.

Just like this one:
20140125-203611.jpg

Man O’ War is a P-51 that is flown by the Southern California Wing of the Commemorative Air Force. Aside from flying it at airshows and other events, we generate income by selling rides. The rides are not hellaciously expensive — but neither are they cheap. It was something high on my to-do list when I had earned a really expensive treat for myself, but it wasn’t going to happen soon.

Then about three months ago I noticed the CAF Southern California Wing needed someone to run for the Finance Officer’s staff position. I’m a CAF member, I had the experience, I had the time available, so I ran and got the job. It’s strictly a volunteer position (still have to find that paying job), but I get to work with a lot of great people, I get to help out a great organization, it gets me out of the house, it lets me keep my skills sharp, and I get to be around some awesome planes three or four days a week.

It turns out there was a chance at another perk.

Today I was doing accounting data entry and reconciling bank statements, routine stuff, learning the ropes there. One of our P-51 pilots came into the office. He needed to get in some proficiency flying time and was asking if anyone wanted to go up with him. It’s a pity to leave that seat empty…

Don’t mess with me, man! That’s not cool!

They weren’t kidding:
20140125-205650.jpg

OH. MY. GOD!!

If you’re anything like me and you ever get a chance to take a ride in a P-51, TAKE IT!

When you get up in the morning, you never know where the day is going to take you. Many days are routine, a few days really suck, and occasionally the karma fairy will dump a bucket of I-don’t-believe-I-get-to-do-this all over you.

That’s why we should get out of bed with a smile every morning. Today might be the day you get to fly a P-51. Or an F-18. Or go to orbit.

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Filed under CAF, Flying, Job Hunt, Photography

Juicy Chunks O’ Wisdom For Wednesday, January 15th

‘Cause I’ve been laughing so hard I might have broken an internal organ or two, that’s why.

  • This is what damn near killed me tonight. I’ll entertain the idea that I’ve been dealing with some stress and pressure to the point where I was ready to pop like a balloon — this was the pointy thing that burst the bubble. Whatever. I still haven’t been able to read more than the first five or six comments without getting to the point where I can’t breathe and the dog’s whining because she thinks I’m dying.
  • There’s a very fine line between a cat trying to cuddle with you and a cat trying to see how much they can piss you off.
  • To Donald Trump and all of the other troglodytes who think that climate change is a hoax because they’re having winter, I would note that California’s in its worst drought on record and it was 95° F this afternoon in Orange County at 13:15.
  • At what point does being creative and purposefully “thinking outside the box” cross over into desperation and panic?
  • I actually had to use a trig function in a calculation for yesterday’s blog article. I’m still amazed that I remembered how to do it. (Shut up, Bob!)
  • It sucks when the dog gets old enough so she can’t jump up on the bed and instead just looks over the edge of it with those sad, brown eyes. “Anthropomorphism” my ass, you know that she remembers being able to jump up there, wants up there now, and knows that she can’t make it.
  • Whoa! Wide dynamic range of emotions there tonight, from laughing myself nearly into unconsciousness to sad, old dog eyes. As a pilot, you want to avoid those kinds of oscillations, they can lead to a loss of control. Which suddenly has a whole new meaning…
  • Tomorrow morning the nominations are announced for the Academy Awards and for us the scramble starts. How many of the nominated films for the “Big Five” categories (actor, actress, supporting actor, supporting actress, best film) can we see before awards night? That way we can have informed and knowledgeable completely useless opinions instead of our usual ignorance-based useless opinions.
  • How do they determine who the weakest link is in a “prayer chain”? Is it based on the honor system, does God rat you out, or do we just check with the NSA?
  • And to think, I get paid for writing this nonsense!
  • Wait, what?

Remember to floss. At a bare minimum, do it when you’re changing the batteries on the smoke detectors on the day when we “spring forward” or “fall back” into or out of Daylight Saving Time.

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Filed under Cats, Death Of Common Sense, Dogs, Flying, Juicy Chunks, Movies

New Kid On The Block

It was a lovely day to be out at Camarillo Airport, learning my new duties with the Southern California Wing of the Commemorative Air Force. While there I looked at the new kid on the block tarmac, a Grumman Albatross.

It’s not one of our aircraft and I don’t have the entire story, but it appears the owner needed a place to park it. We had a big slab of ramp with many WWII “cousin” aircraft buzzing about, so a deal got made.

20140111-214334.jpg

She is pretty!

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Filed under CAF, Flying, Photography

Not With A Bang

Oh, yeah, this…

One of my fears is that when I finally do take a day off and not post anything here (it’s going to happen, I don’t plan on posting daily for the rest of my life) it won’t be because I made a decision to do so, or because I’m travelling to Europe or Asia and can’t post anything, or because I’m in a coma or just have the flu. (Note that this “fear” isn’t like my fear of rattlesnakes or anything – perspective is everything.)

No, it will happen because I will get caught up doing a dozen other things before finally falling into bed, exhausted, only to wake up at 3:33 AM with the realization of what happened and that whole Wilhelm Scream thing scaring the crap out of The Long-Suffering Wife.

Today was nearly that day. I’ve been writing all night on another project…

2013-11-30 NaNoWriMo Scoreboard(Remember “Project A”?)

…and while that’s going much better than the last bit there, it’s on a deadline and I got caught up and was also watching the Kings’ game and then there’s this whole thing that’s going on which you’ll probably hear way too much about later and…

Hi, there. I have ever told you how much I love air shows? Guess how many pictures I can take in a day at a good air show?

Here’s a picture. We’ll talk later.

IMG_8145 (small)US Air Force Thunderbirds at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois, 2008

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Filed under Flying, LA Kings, Photography, Writing

IMSAFE

Damn, I miss flying. There have been a lot of adjustments and compromises that have come along with the last year’s worth of job hunting, but that one’s high on the list. I was thinking about that this evening when I’m feeling even more fricasseed than I was last night.

Maybe it’s that the holidays came in the middle of the week this year. One of the things I’ve noticed without the requirement to be in an office on a regular schedule is that the days of the week tend to blur together. That’s one of the reasons that I’ve tried my best to impose some regimentation and discipline on my schedule.

Maybe it’s that The Long-Suffering Wife has been on vacation and at home with me for the last week. Her regular work schedule has been a help to me by proxy even if I don’t have one, but that’s been gone for the last nine or ten days.

Maybe it’s some potential medical issues peeking over the horizon. I thought I was okay, but maybe it’s bothering me more than I thought.

Maybe it’s yesterday’s football game. Yeah, I’m passionate and had my hopes up, but I really do realize that it’s just a game. There are a lot of other higher priorities in life. Again, I thought I was okay, but maybe it’s bothering me more than I thought.

Maybe it’s some other issues that sort of lobbed themselves over the horizon in the last day or two. I am dealing with them and things seem to be back under control, but it’s one more thing on top of all of the above, so maybe it’s having more effect than I had thought it would.

Remember the scene near the end of “Revenge of the Jedi” when Luke faces off with Darth Vader, just before he loses his hand and Darth has his big reveal? Luke thinks that he’s ready for the battle, but Darth starts tossing equipment and debris at him. Luke fends of the first, and the second, and the third and fourth, but then they start coming faster and faster and two at a time and three at a time and bigger and faster and more and he’s overwhelmed.

I think I’m feeling just a bit like that. One thing I can handle. Two things, no problem. Three things, I’m feeling stretched thin. Four, I’m hanging on. Five, I’m in trouble. Six…

Anyway, with my brain and body feeling a bit like I’ve used way too much adrenaline in the last forty-eight hours or so, I was thinking about flying and wishing that I could go up again.

Then I realized that right now, even if I was current on my medical and proficiency, I would not be a good pilot.

Pilots use a lot of mnemonics and shortcuts to remember everything. One that’s fairly new (I think it was just starting to be used when I was doing my training about five years ago) is “IMSAFE“. It’s a checklist to take a look at the human factors in flying a plane, not just the plane’s mechanical factors or the weather.

  • Illness — Are you sick? Don’t fly!
  • Medication — Anything new? Anything unapproved? Anything that might make you drowsy? A plane definitely qualifies as “heavy equipment”…
  • Stress — Going through a divorce? Your boss is all over your case? Your wife is expecting any day? Is your focus going to be on the plane, or somewhere else?
  • Alcohol — Seems obvious, but if you’ve been drinking, you shouldn’t ever be flying!
  • Fatigue — Haven’t had a good night’s sleep? New kid screaming all night? New puppy? Burning the candle at both ends? Going to fall asleep in mid-flight?
  • Eating — Your schedule sucks so you grabbed a doughnut and coffee for breakfast, a granola bar and soda for lunch, and now you’re really starving and maybe a bit hypoglycemic but you’re pretty sure that you’ll be okay. Would you like to reconsider?

On that basis, I’m okay on at least three of the six and I thought that I was in pretty good shape on the other three, but given the battle I’m having at times to keep my attention span from being described as “puppy-like”, today (if I were flying) would be a classic example of when to recognize that something’s “off” and you need to step back and reconsider.

I bring this all up not just to have something to pontificate on tonight, but because this can also be a good check if everyone’s everyday life. It might not be quite as critical and you might have more slack to allow yourself if, say, you’re driving a car rather than flying a plane. But what if you’re driving for six or eight hours instead of just down to the grocery store? What if you’re driving a large truck?

Tonight I’ll do my best to get a good night’s sleep (Jessie, no 3:00 AM bathroom breaks, please!), get back on a weekly schedule, get proactive about dealing with the job thing and some of the other new stuff that I’m dealing with, and maybe make sure that I’m a little more aware of what I’m eating.

Tomorrow will be a better day. Keep it that way for yourself as well. If you have any doubts, step back and make sure you can tell yourself IMSAFE.

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Filed under Distracted Driving, Flying, Job Hunt, Paul

Trade-A-Plane Lust

Once I achieved a lifelong dream and got my private pilot’s license in 2009, it became obvious that staying current and enjoying the use of my license was not going to be cheap. I rent from my flight school, and it runs about $150/hour for a newer model Cessna 172. You can rent an older Cessna 150 for about $120/hour, or you can join a flying club and pay about $80 to $100/hour, plus annual dues of $1,000 or so.

Or you can buy your own plane. With required maintenance, insurance, fuel, and then maintenance for items that pop up outside of the regular cycle, this isn’t that cheap either. But, having said all of that, the biggest expense in buying your own plane is, well, the plane.

Some simple research on the websites for Cessna and Cirrus will show that a new four passenger plane, fully loaded with avionics, will run anywhere from about $150K to about $250K. If you want to get a bigger plane, like a Caravan, or a twin-engine plane, like a Baron, things get much more expensive much more quickly.

But then, after I got on a bunch of mailing lists for this FAA thing and that AOPA thing, I started getting copies of the “Trade-A-Plane” magazine a couple times a year.

Oh. My. God.

It’s a great big classified ad newspaper with whole huge sections for parts, repairs, accessories, and so on. But about half of it is for used planes for sale. And what planes! You can find anything in there!

Yeah, yeah, dozens and hundreds of used Cessna 172s (depending on age, condition, and equipment, from $25K to $50K) and Cirrus SR20s ($120K to $225K). And Beechs ($35K to $150K). And plenty of “as is” planes that need some work and need to be brought current on the mandatory maintenance and inspections, but you can get them for $15K to $25K.

But then you can start looking through other sections and it’s like getting the old Sears Christmas Catalog when you were a kid!

Cessna 414 twins for $100K to $300K. Piper Twin Comanches for $65K to $100K. Beech Baron twins from $150K to $350K.

Want something bigger, like one of those regional business turboprops? Get a Mitsubishi MU-2M or a Piper Cheyenne for $500K, or a King Air 200 for $600K.

Need a business jet? Learjets, Cessna Citations, Embraer Phenoms, and Gulfstreams from $800K to $8M.

Still not big enough? There are listings for 737’s for $4.5M, 747’s for $20M, 757’s for $9.5M (a steal!), and a 767 for only $6M (but it needs new engines).

Don’t like Boeing? How about an Airbus A-320 for $91.5M? (Includes all engines!)

How about something more personal and more fun to fly? How about a classic Beech 18S twin (think “Sky King”!) for $130K?

Flying aerobatics? Get a Citabria for $50K or a Pitts S-2C for $145K.

Want an open air bi-plane? Get a Waco for $225K, or better yet, a 1937 Stearman PT-17 for$70K!

The cream of the crop? Get a P-51 Mustang for $2,145,000 or an F4U-7 Corsair for $2,600,000.

Helicopters! Crop dusters! Float planes!

Want a rural property with its own landing strip? They’re listed. Want to buy your own freakin’ airport? Ditto.

Yes, indeedy! It’s a happy day for fantasies and “when I win the lottery” planning when Trade-A-Plane comes in the mail!                                                                                                                                                                                 

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Hot Air Ballooning

They say to write what you know…

On Saturday I posted pictures from Manitou Springs, Colorado, which has been a location used in my NaNoWriMo novel this month. A few days later I wrote two chapters that centered around a hot air balloon ride. There was a reason that I found the action in those chapters relatively easy to write.

IMG_3657 smallThe Long Suffering Wife and I went hot air ballooning about four years ago in Temecula, California. We were in a convoy of  four balloons. Here you can see how the balloons are all being laid on on these huge tarps as they’re set up.

IMG_3659 smallHere’s our basket being attached to the canopy. The big burners are on the left, at the top of the basket. You can also see the gas-powered fan that’s used to blow air into the canopy until it fills enough for the big burners to be turned on.

IMG_3661 smallWe’re inflating the canopy, I’m helping to hold the mouth of the balloon open so that the hot air can be blown into it.

IMG_3683 smallOnce the fan has blown enough air into the canopy, the burners get lit off. The canopy inflates and starts to lift quickly. In the basket, you can see The Long Suffering Wife on her back, waiting to be lifted vertically when the whole rig tilts up.

IMG_3690 smallAnd there it goes, starting to become buoyant.

IMG_3699 smallThe fleet is starting to rise.

IMG_3727 smallWe got off the ground, leaving beind the final balloon. You can see where we set up in some empty lot that they used, the area covered with tarps from the balloon setup. The ground crews pick up all the gear and tarps, then starts chasing us so they’re ready to help us land in an hour or so.

IMG_3802 smallThe view from on high. The third shadow in the bottom right  is us. We’re heading down to land out in these fields.

IMG_3814 smallWe landed and got pulled over onto our side by the collapsing canopy. I scrambled out first (and got something on the lens of the camera for my trouble) with Ronnie following. The other passengers just hung out and chilled until it was their turn.

IMG_3828 smallOne of the other balloons in our group came in and landed fifty yards away. They stayed upright. Here you can see their canopy collapsing as the vents are pulled loose and all of the hot air spills out the top. (A third balloon can be seen just landing in the distance.)

Let there be no doubt — this was a LOT of fun! Ronnie and I would both go do this again in a heartbeat, any time.

FYI, it also makes great material for years later when your protagonist needs a way to scout a remote desert location.

 

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Filed under Flying, Photography, Travel, Writing

Busy Again

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand all of a sudden it’s feeling crazy busy for a few days.

I’m rapidly getting much more involved with my local Commemorative Air Force wing, about which you will no doubt hear much in the future.

IMG_7207_smallThe CAF logo on the tail of our B-29, “Fifi”, when she visited Camarillo in March, 2013.

Also, tonight was the first night of this semester’s “Conversational Spanish II”. Only one night a week, six weeks, no tests, no credits, but a good way to at least get exposed to some fundamentals and be able to ask where the bathroom is and, more importantly, probably understand the answer. Plus, it’s a special treat to take the class with The Long-Suffering Wife. We’re a cute couple. (A couple of what, we don’t know! Thanks, I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitress. Try the veal.)

Tomorrow I’m visiting a writer’s group which I may be invited to join for their weekly meetings. That would be a great opportunity, although it’s a good two hours drive (in Irvine) each way. But it could get me out of the house and off the streets in addition to getting some valuable personal feedback on my writing, as well as some insight into the processes that others use. It will be great! Assume y’all will be hearing more about that.

Now I have to get back to work.

Plus I have my “normal” daily writing to get to. Oh, yeah, and that whole job search thing. That’s kinda important too.

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Filed under Flying, Job Hunt, Photography, Writing

Flash Fiction Follow-Up: Midair II

Last week I wrote a cliffhanger short story for Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge. This week I finished up someone else’s story from that first exercise. However, while I got several very nice comments about my cliffhanger story (thanks y’all, very much appreciated!), no one chose my story as their starting point for this week’s challenge. Yet several folks have said that they still want to know what comes next in my cliffhanger. So, here’s a bonus bit of fiction to tie up those loose ends. Even better, I can make it as long as it needs to be. None of this “1,000 words or so” to deal with! 3,200+ words! Whoo-hoo!

(Another good reason for writing this is that it’s windy as all get out here in SoCal today, which has in turn knocked out the power. It may be a couple of hours before we get it back- but I can write most of this on my iPad! Let’s here it for living the First World! Now if I could just open the fridge to get a cold Diet Coke…)

MIDAIR II

Coming down deadstick over the forest, I was trying to watch five things at once.

I needed to keep my airspeed pegged for maximum glide, but with the master switches off and all of the electronic avionics dead, I was watching the backup “steam” gauges over on the passenger’s side.

I was also looking at the terrain to make sure that I would clear the trees and land somewhere in the fields beyond.

I was also trying to watch the approaching fields through the busted windshield to see if there were any obstacles to dodge at the last second.

I was also trying to glance at the emergency checklist to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything critical.

I was also trying to get any clue from the trees and fields about the wind direction, since it would be much safer and easier to land into the wind. With the wind would be bad, a strong crosswind could be fatal.

I was trying as hard as I could to clot and coagulate so that blood would stop running into my eyes.

Finally, I was trying to remember to always fly the plane. Fly the plane. FLY THE PLANE!

Adrenaline is great stuff — ask for it by name!

About thirty seconds out I had cleared the trees and saw a big field of corn stretching out before me. There were some large farm buildings, barns, and a tent on the right side, but I didn’t need to get anywhere near them. The way the corn was waving clearly showed me that the wind was blowing straight at me. I had half expected that since I had been flying with a stiff tail wind when I had collided with the flock of geese a few minutes earlier, but it was great to get confirmation.

Perfect! It would be like landing in a big pit of foam packing peanuts.

Two seconds after that thought, I saw how wrong I was. Instantly, my intended landing sit was just as unacceptable as it had previously been wonderful.

As I approached I could finally see the far side of the barns. There sat three school buses. The corn I could now see wasn’t smooth, but had paths cut through it.

I was flying at eighty-seven knots with tanks half full of highly flammable avgas straight into a corn maze full of school kids. With my engine out, I was almost completely silent. They would never know what hit them.

It was too late to make any drastic moves. I was only one hundred feet up, with no engine. I had nowhere to go but down. But if I lost control and spun or stalled now, not only would I be down on top of the kids, I would be out of control, spinning, and crashing. Exploding and burning.

Without thinking I banked to the left as much as I dared, away from the corn field and the farm buildings. My headwind was now a crosswind, working to lift my right wing and try to roll me. The turn started killing my speed and threatened to make me stall. I lowered the nose to keep the speed up, fought to keep the turn shallow, and hoped for the best. It wasn’t much of a turn, I was way too low, but it was enough.

The trees at the south side of the farm came up at me like a freight train. They were mostly some kind of pines and it was like hitting a row of bushy telephone poles. I had just enough time to get level, pull back hard, try to flare to bleed off some speed, and brace for the crash.

The fact that I came back to consciousness meant that the plane’s cabin hadn’t hit a tree head on. I was leaning back with the nose of the plane up about twenty degrees or so. I was also leaning about forty-five degrees over to the left. The broken windshield had even more damage now and there were broken pine branches sticking through it.

I could smell avgas, so there was obviously a fuel tank rupture someplace. If that gas was soaking into the pine needles underneath me, this was a really bad place to be if anything sparked. I had to get out, fast.

That was easier said than done. I took off my headphones and unbuckled my seat belt, trying to shift my weight to start sitting up. Instead of sitting however, I almost passed out again as waves of pain came up from my right leg and foot. I settled back for a second, caught my breath, waited for the bright, red stars to go away, then carefully raised my head to check out what I had injured.

My arms and ribs had gotten bashed, but nothing seemed broken. I could move them around as long as I didn’t try to shift my lower body. The cuts on my head were oozing again and seemed to have joined by at least two walnut-sized lumps. I tried moving my left leg and found that I could shift it and wiggle my toes, but there was something holding it tight. Any attempt to move my right leg brought on incredible amounts of pain.

It looked like the plane had gone between a couple of trees and sheared off the wings, which was good. That probably also caused the fuel in the wing tanks to spill, which was bad. Missing the wings, the plane cabin had carried forward until it hit another tree, stopping nose up and sideways. The collision had pushed the engine back toward me and the firewall down by my feet had buckled, trapping my left foot and probably breaking my right leg in a couple of spots.

Adrenaline will only take you so far. I had already used a lot of it in the last half hour. I needed some help, badly, or I was going to die.

Help arrived in the form of a woman’s voice connected to jeans and hiking boots. I heard her running through the underbrush and yelling at someone to stay back. I saw the boots and jeans appear outside the smashed door window next to me.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” she yelled.

“Yes, I’m hurt and I need help. I think… I’m pretty sure that I’ve got a broken leg, plus some other cuts and bumps. My leg is trapped and I can’t get out right now.”

She knelt down next to the plane and looked in at me. “We’ve called for help, but they won’t be here for at least thirty minutes. What can we do until they get here?”

“You have to get back away from the plane. There’s a huge danger of fire with the spilled fuel.”

She immediately sat up and looked away from me, back through the trees toward the farm.

“All of you kids get back at least fifty feet!” she yelled. “There could be an explosion and a fire. Stay back! Jennifer, you run back to the farm and meet the fire truck when it gets here. Tell them that there’s a fuel spill and a fire danger. Go! Run!”

She leaned back down toward the ground and looked around inside the cabin. She looked at my leg and reached in through the window to feel below my right knee.

“Can you feel if it’s bleeding or just broken? Are you losing blood down there?”

“I can’t feel any bleeding but I’m dead serious about the fire danger. Don’t be stupid. You have to get back away from here!”

“Duly noted. Nothing’s burning yet. I’ll run away and let you fricassee when I smell smoke, OK? Can you move your left leg at all?”

“Yes, I can move it, but not much.”

“OK. We may or may not have much time, so let’s not waste it.” She sat back on her heels and pushed gently at the plane. She rocked it a bit a couple of times, testing to see how well it would roll and shift. “This doesn’t weigh that much, so we’re going to try to shift this all back upright, then pull you out. Are you up for that?”

“Sure, it beats any ideas I have. Who is ‘we’?” I asked.

“Wait here, try not to move,” she said, ignoring my question. “I’ll be right back.”

The boots disappeared and I heard her jogging away. There was some conversation going on back behind me but I had no way of turning to see who it might be. Several minutes went by and I thought that I could hear running back and forth.

I moved only enough to reach down between the seats to gently pull lose the small fire extinguisher there. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. Meanwhile, I was straining my ears to hear sirens, hoping that the rescue crews were near. I was straining my nose to smell smoke, but all I could smell was my sweat and blood, mixed with the smell of gasoline.

Finally I heard several sets of footsteps crunching through the pine needles. My rescuer was giving instructions to her team, whoever they were.

“Ed, you go over on that side by the tail. Bobby, you stay on this side behind the door, there. Keith, you’re up there by the nose. Ed, stay on your toes, the tail is going to swing your way. You need to stay well clear of it as it goes. OK?

“If any of you see or smell anything that might be a spark or fire, you let everyone know and blast it immediately. Remember, aim for the base of the fire, don’t shoot up in the air at the flame. If that doesn’t work, if the fire catches or spreads, bail out of here, immediately. Run. If you get caught by the fire, remember to stop, drop, and roll. No panicking. Any questions?”

She moved up next to my broken window, her boots appearing on the ground near my head. Again she knelt and bent over to peer in at me.

“How are you doing in there? Still with us?”

“I’ve had better days but I’m still here. What’s the plan?”

“Oh, good. You’ve got an extinguisher too. You relax and try to keep still. The nose is caught up on a couple of trees here, but this whole thing is light enough. We’re going to swing the tail around so that the nose comes loose and the weight of the engine should drop you upright. I’ve got three guys here with the fire extinguishers from the buses in case anything sparks.”

“The buses? Who is all here? Who are you?”

“I’m Ellen, I’m a teacher and coach at Keys High. These guys are from my team, they’ve got the muscle to get this done. Are you up for it? I don’t know when the fire truck and ambulance will get here.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I was starting to get nauseous. I knew what that probably meant and it wasn’t good. I didn’t know if I was bleeding from that broken leg. Ellen’s plan seemed sound. I had gotten this far in this emergency by following the book, but there wasn’t any book for this part of it. We were making it up as we went along.

“Your guys, how old are they? Are they going to be safe doing this? Am I going to be rescued by a soccer mom and a bunch of ten-year-olds?”

That got a laugh from her. “Hardly! The younger guys are all back further and their girlfriends are all back at the farm. The guys who are doing the heavy lifting are all seventeen and eighteen. It’s not soccer, it’s football. You’re going to get your ass rescued by the Cougar varsity team. They’re smart, strong, and fast.”

“OK, let’s do it.”

Without another word to me, Ellen stood up and started giving instructions to the rest of her team. On the count of three, two big lineman leaned down on the tail while another two pushed the nose away from the trees where it was caught. In just seconds, the nose came clear and dropped with a thud, the plane rolling more or less upright.

The pain from my leg was overwhelming as we rolled and banged around. The final drop onto the bent up front landing gear led to the strut collapsing and dropping the nose down onto the ground. The engine pulled back forward, pulling the my trapped right foot with it. There was a great deal of screaming and cursing, all of it from me.

Then the plane door was pulled open and I saw Ellen for the first time. She was short, built a little bit like a fire plug, with short, flaming red hair caught up under a baseball cap. Behind here I could see a half dozen very large guys, some of them holding fire extinguishers at the ready.

“Can you get your leg out now?” she asked. “We need to get you out ASAP and take a look at your head and your leg.”

My left foot was pretty much free now that the firewall had bent back out of the cabin. My right leg was in agony and I couldn’t feel or see if it was loose or not. I told Ellen, and she peered down underneath the dashboard and panel to see what was going on.

“I see what it is. There are some pedals down there. It looks like your right foot is caught up under one of them and your ankle is probably broken, maybe the leg as well. That’ll be where the pain’s coming from. I know you can’t move it, but we can move the leg for you and pull you out. It’s probably going to hurt like hell.”

“Too late, it already does. Do it, I’ve got to get out of here and we’ve all got to get away from the plane. I don’t want you or your guys near here. I’ll do my best to pass out before the screaming gets too bad and you can tell me about it later. Do it.”

Ellen sent everyone away from the plane except for the three guys carrying the fire extinguishers and one tall, strong guy who just reeked of quarterback. She crouched down inside the door near the floorboards and gently grabbed my right leg. Mr. QB leaned in over her and grabbed under my arms, partially setting me upright.

“OK, just like we do in on the quarterback sneak play, guys. Got it? On three. One.”

There never was a two or a three. I was as faked out as the opposing defense was supposed to be. Before I knew it, my leg was being twisted and pulled free, the whole world went dark with pain, there was some more screaming, crying, and swearing, and Mr QB yanked me free and out into the open like a tackling dummy. Fortunately, I was unconscious before the leg hit the ground.

I woke up, looking at the sky that was starting to get dark with dusk. I was strapped down on something soft, with a blanket over me and an IV bag suspended above. Around my leg were a couple of paramedics, and when I turned my head I could see the football team watching the proceedings. They seemed bored, as if they saw a plane crash every day. A couple were holding their phones and taking pictures.

There was obviously something really good mixed in with the saline in the IV bag. Everything was all soft around the edges and I felt no pain at all. Great stuff, whatever it was. Even better than adrenaline. Ask for it by name, too.

As the paramedics finished putting a brace on my leg and got the stretcher ready to lift into the ambulance, Ellen came toward me from behind the crowd of her team. She stood over me, looking down for a second, then asked how I felt.

“Fuzzy. I think I’ll live. I just might not like it for a day or two. Are all of you guys OK?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. The guys all have an adventure to brag about. It will do them good.”

“Did the plane burn?”

“Nope, they’re foaming it down and calling in a hazmat team now to clean up the fuel. I think that plane’s a goner though.”

“Yeah, I knew that. The insurance company owned it as soon as the geese hit.”

“Is that what happened? It was hard to tell with all of the crash damage, but I did see the dead goose on the floor as we were pulling you out.”

“Yep, it was a great emergency right up until the end. I didn’t quite stick the landing.”

“I was going to ask about that. I saw you gliding in at the last minute and you could have just gone into the corn smooth as could be. Why did you swerve off?”

“I saw the maze and the buses at the last second, didn’t want to hurt the kids. The trees were the best I could do on short notice.”

“I appreciate that. One other thing. Isn’t that a Cirrus?”

“Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Don’t they have an emergency parachute system in them?”

It was a good thing that I was doped up. That way I could lay there slack jawed and drooling for a minute and blame it on the drugs, instead of how I was feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that the plane has a parachute. So why didn’t I use it? I just didn’t think of it. I was busy, and hurt. I haven’t flown this plane more than once or twice. I’m almost always in a Cessna and I did all of my training in Cessnas. When the emergency hit I just went by the training I had. I guess I was just stupid.”

“Given that you managed to miss me and my kids, I think you did OK.”

The paramedics picked me up and started to put the stretcher into the ambulance.

“Thank you for pulling me out of there and saving my life! And thank your guys too!”

“You can thank them all yourself, later. Me and my guys will be over to see you in a day or two.”

The ambulance doors shut and my big adventure was over for the day.

And that’s the story of how I met my wife, Ellen.

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Encino Nike Base

A week or so ago, after looking at a bunch of things that I had written here, ranting about stuff that really had me PO’d (“gremlin” issues, the cable war thing, politics, and so on) I had decided to make a conscious decision to be less negative and more positive. I was going to look for the good, not dwell on the bad.

Then this whole Congressional epic fail thing happened and my Twitter feed is full of NASA sites and scientists shutting down for the duration and I see and hear all of the BS from both sides and it just puts my head back into a very negative place. (Wow, how 70’s!)

But I’m learning (slowly) that I can have a choice to NOT be a victim in these events. That’s leading to some very mixed up and far reaching thought processes about the whole thing, which I’m hoping will lead to some really interesting posts here once it all gets distilled down into rational thoughts. (Plus there are time-consuming and hopefully positive things going on this week on the job hunt mess, as well as my beloved Chiefs to follow, and hockey started today! But I digress…)

The process of distilling the raw “ARAGGGGHH!!” reaction to the world into actual English is going to take a few days at least, so for now, y’all may just get a bunch of pictures every day for the next few. (I take a LOT of pictures!)

A few years ago a good friend from work let me in on a little known, special place up in the Santa Monica Mountains. For those of you not familiar with Los Angeles, the Santa Monicas run east-west from the Pacific coast, through the middle of the city, to Griffith Park. At the west end you have Malibu to the south and the western San Fernando Valley to the north of the mountains. At the east end you have downtown Los Angeles, Hollywood, and Dodger Stadium to the south and the eastern San Fernando Valley (Burbank & Glendale) to the north.

Back in the 1950’s when we all thought that we were going to get fried by Russian Commie Nukes at any second, the government went up into those mountains and found a perfect spot to put a Nike missile base. From the top of one of the mountains you could see all of the San Fernando Valley, downtown LA, almost all of the LA Basin and the coastline from Malibu to Palos Verdes. For a long time, there were anti-missile missiles up in them thar hills.

The missiles are gone, but the base got turned over to the folks who are making almost all of that mountain range a public park. The base has been partially restored as a historical site and it’s open to the public – if you know where it is and how to get there.

There aren’t any signs and as far as I can tell it’s only publicized by word of mouth. You have to know where to turn off of Mulholland Drive (which is pretty narrow and twisty turny to begin with) onto an unmarked road, then park in this dirt lot. From there it’s about a mile hike up a dirt fire road to the top of the hill. Lots of hikers know about it (the fire roads get hiked a lot, as well as the many hiking trails up in the park) and the dirt bikers know about it. But since you can’t drive up there, and would really need a four-wheel-drive vehicle if you did, most folks have no idea it’s there.

But oh, the views you can get on a clear day! (This particular clear day was April 29, 2010.)

(Previewing this post I realize that there’s something that I assume you all know, but maybe I shouldn’t assume. If you click on any of these pictures, you’ll get the full-sized picture, not just the tiny one in the post. You knew that, right?)

01_IMG_6233_smallA wide shot showing downtown Los Angeles about eighteen miles away. On the right, just over the foreground hills, you can see the skyscrapers of Century City. In the far distance on the right you can see Saddleback Mountain rising up over eastern Orange County, over fifty miles away.

02_IMG_6353_smallA telephoto shot of the view of downtown LA. The houses on the hill in the foreground are in Sherman Oaks, Westwood, and Bel Aire. Very, VERY pricey housing.

03_IMG_6238_smallA wide shot looking down toward the coastline. You can see the beach over the hill on the far right, with the Palos Verdes Peninsula rising up in the distance. Just over the hills you can clearly see a large white area running from left to right just inland from the coast – that’s LAX.

04_IMG_6355_smallA telephoto shot of the tip of the Palos Verdes Peninsula sticking out from the left in the distance (twenty-five miles away). Just visible sticking up though the marine haze on the horizon that big grey thing is Santa Catalina Island. It might be “twenty-six miles across the sea” in the song, but it’s about fifty miles from here.

05_IMG_6374_smallOut in the central San Fernando Valley is Van Nuys airport. Just in front of it is Lake Balboa, a huge man-made lake and park which uses totally recycled waste water. A great place to play, stroll, chill, run, and picnic.

06_IMG_6363_smallWay off in the distance, at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains, you can see Whiteman Airport, my home base when I fly. The big, white, curved area in the center is Hansen Dam and Recreation Center. Just to the right of it you can see four red and white striped smoke stacks, known to pilots as the “four towers”. Whiteman is just in front of the dam and the normal takeoff on Runway 12 aims you straight at the four towers. They mark the boundary between Whiteman’s airspace and Burbank’s, so if you’re not talking to Burbank’s tower real quick after takeoff, you had better be peeling off another direction or be planning on a long, uncomfortable talk with the FAA.

07_IMG_6384_smallThe wide shot of the central San Fernando Valley, with Whiteman Airport, Hansen Dam, and the four towers way up at the top and the office buildings of Encino in the foreground. A couple of those office buildings are where I worked for well over twenty years.

08_IMG_6366_smallFrom the Nike Base tower you’re looking down into the Encino Reservoir. Running right to left along the base of these hills you can see a lot of bigger buildings – that’s Ventura Boulevard. The major street running perpendicular to it from the mid-upper right is White Oak Boulevard. Reseda Boulevard is cutting north-south across a piece of the top, left corner.

09_IMG_6255_smallThe west San Fernando Valley, with the skyscrapers of Warner Ranch in the center. Ventura County starts at the top of those hills at the far end of the SFV as seen from here. Our house is out there to the left of Warner Center, right near the base of those hills.

10_IMG_6259_smallThe central San Fernando Valley, with Tarzana in the foreground and Chatsworth (porn production capital of the world!) in the distance. The Santa Suzanna Mountains are at the northwest edge of the SFV in the background, with Simi Valley on the other side.

11_IMG_6273_smallThe eastern San Fernando Valley, with the San Bernardino Mountains rising up in the distance. In the center middle distance you can see the skyscrapers of Glendale, and the infamous Universal City “black tower” is at the middle near the right edge. Griffith Park is in the hills behind the black tower. That gap you see between Griffith Park and the San Bernardinos will take you off to Pasadena, the Rose Bowl, and into the San Gabriel Valley.

12_IMG_6360_smallHere there be many red-tail hawks, riding the thermals and looking for lunch.

(See, wasn’t that much more relaxing and soothing than ranting about things that we have no power to change? Yes, I thought so, too.)

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