Me and Ed in his RV-6 I don’t know exactly what the device is called, but it’s a push-button type lock that’s attached to the end of some throttle control sliders. These are actuated by moving a large knob in and out of the dashboard of some airplanes (like a Cessna 172), as opposed to one or more vertical throttle levers. I had only once before flown an aircraft with this type of throttle, and that was for all of a whopping twenty minutes. But that was a 172, and it didn’t have this irritating little knob attached to the end. You have to depress and hold it while manipulating the control otherwise it locks the throttle in place. I silently cursed whoever had originally designed the thing as I cumbersomely advanced the throttle all the way to the stop. The engine roared, shoving the little airplane forward at an acceleration rate that was probably greater than that of any takeoff I’ve flown to date.
Today was my first tail-wheel lesson, and my training ground was Ed’s personal airplane. Ed participates in a phenomenon known in aviation as the $100 hamburger, so he took me along with him today. We had flown to Pell City, Alabama, to eat lunch with several other pilots that all own airplanes just like Ed’s; sporty little winged missiles known as RV’s. The restaurant was one of the coolest things I've seen yet; a totally aviation-themed restaurant located on the airport property. We literally taxiied up to their ramp and walked inside. As is customary with me and Ed, we take turns flying the legs of our trips. Ed had flown the first leg in order to demonstrate to me the finer nuances of tail-wheel aircraft, specifically this one, and had allowed me some stick time in the air so that I could get the feel for it. And now, with lunch behind us, it was my turn to fly.
Thinking with the mindset of a tricycle-gear airplane pilot, I had asked Ed about rotation speed (the point at which I should pull back on the stick to allow the aircraft to take off) as we were pulling onto the runway. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just firewall it and hold it straight. It’ll do the rest.” Ummm…. A’ight. I did exactly as Ed had instructed, and in short order the earth seemed to involuntarily fall away from us. It was a good thing, too, because I couldn’t have looked at the airspeed indicator if I wanted to. All of my attention was directed toward keeping the nose straight; coordinating my eyes and my feet in their constant manipulation of the rudder pedals. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It wasn’t effortless either. But it sure was cool.
Good night this thing’s fast! I thought, as I glanced down at the airspeed indicator. Its needle was already heading past the “100” in a matter of mere seconds. We had taken off behind a Piper Cub, which I knew would be moving much slower than us, so I lowered the nose and leveled off a few hundred feet over the runway in order to visualize him. Got him. This also allowed me to see that plenty of runway length remained underneath us. The Cub was making a painfully slow straight-out departure, which now put us in trail of him, though the distance between the two aircraft was closing. On the flight over, I had gotten a feel for just how quick and maneuverable Ed's airplane was. In fact, Ed and I took turns performing rolls as we crossed 5,500 feet over the outskirts of Birmingham (I never, ever get tired of being upside down in airplane). As such, I had a fair idea what the aircraft was capable of, so I decided to have a little fun.
I glanced to the right and depressed the radio transmit button on the top of the control stick. “Four Echo Bravo’s right turn outbound, northeast departure, Pell City.” Simultaneously, I rolled control the stick to the right and pulled back. I’m not sure if I broke the sacred no-more-than-60-degrees-of-bank-in-a-traffic-pattern rule, but if not I came awfully close. The tiny aircraft laid over on its side and blasted away from the airport, skimming over a nearby ridgeline and leaving the Cub in the dust. Once our 90 degree turn on to our course was complete, I leveled back off; a permanent smile now firmly plastered onto my face. Ed giggled as he saw the visible joy that I was experiencing at the controls of his airplane. "Oh I have GOT to get me one of these!!!"
So that was my day. Still no instructor, still no progress. Thus, out of boredom, I’ve decided to pursue things that don’t particularly affect my airline career, but do put hours in my logbook and smiles on my face. That’s why Ed and I undertook the task of working on my tail-wheel endorsement. I’ve also been promised a seaplane lesson, so I think I’ll pursue that rating next. Useless? Yeah. Fun? It’s bound to be.
I’ve still not decided which article to submit, nor to whom I’m going to submit it. I was sorta fishing for a bit a more in the way of suggestions (hint hint). I seriously don’t have a clue. I wish I knew someone in the publishing business; help would be invaluable right about now. And speaking of that, special thanks go out to Hailey and Sandy for responding to my pleas for input. Everyone else… Well, did I happen to mention that you’re cut out of my will?
No, wait a minute. I’m putting you IN my will!
Ha! You’ll owe millions!!!
Joey
Today was my first tail-wheel lesson, and my training ground was Ed’s personal airplane. Ed participates in a phenomenon known in aviation as the $100 hamburger, so he took me along with him today. We had flown to Pell City, Alabama, to eat lunch with several other pilots that all own airplanes just like Ed’s; sporty little winged missiles known as RV’s. The restaurant was one of the coolest things I've seen yet; a totally aviation-themed restaurant located on the airport property. We literally taxiied up to their ramp and walked inside. As is customary with me and Ed, we take turns flying the legs of our trips. Ed had flown the first leg in order to demonstrate to me the finer nuances of tail-wheel aircraft, specifically this one, and had allowed me some stick time in the air so that I could get the feel for it. And now, with lunch behind us, it was my turn to fly.
Thinking with the mindset of a tricycle-gear airplane pilot, I had asked Ed about rotation speed (the point at which I should pull back on the stick to allow the aircraft to take off) as we were pulling onto the runway. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just firewall it and hold it straight. It’ll do the rest.” Ummm…. A’ight. I did exactly as Ed had instructed, and in short order the earth seemed to involuntarily fall away from us. It was a good thing, too, because I couldn’t have looked at the airspeed indicator if I wanted to. All of my attention was directed toward keeping the nose straight; coordinating my eyes and my feet in their constant manipulation of the rudder pedals. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It wasn’t effortless either. But it sure was cool.
Good night this thing’s fast! I thought, as I glanced down at the airspeed indicator. Its needle was already heading past the “100” in a matter of mere seconds. We had taken off behind a Piper Cub, which I knew would be moving much slower than us, so I lowered the nose and leveled off a few hundred feet over the runway in order to visualize him. Got him. This also allowed me to see that plenty of runway length remained underneath us. The Cub was making a painfully slow straight-out departure, which now put us in trail of him, though the distance between the two aircraft was closing. On the flight over, I had gotten a feel for just how quick and maneuverable Ed's airplane was. In fact, Ed and I took turns performing rolls as we crossed 5,500 feet over the outskirts of Birmingham (I never, ever get tired of being upside down in airplane). As such, I had a fair idea what the aircraft was capable of, so I decided to have a little fun.
I glanced to the right and depressed the radio transmit button on the top of the control stick. “Four Echo Bravo’s right turn outbound, northeast departure, Pell City.” Simultaneously, I rolled control the stick to the right and pulled back. I’m not sure if I broke the sacred no-more-than-60-degrees-of-bank-in-a-traffic-pattern rule, but if not I came awfully close. The tiny aircraft laid over on its side and blasted away from the airport, skimming over a nearby ridgeline and leaving the Cub in the dust. Once our 90 degree turn on to our course was complete, I leveled back off; a permanent smile now firmly plastered onto my face. Ed giggled as he saw the visible joy that I was experiencing at the controls of his airplane. "Oh I have GOT to get me one of these!!!"
So that was my day. Still no instructor, still no progress. Thus, out of boredom, I’ve decided to pursue things that don’t particularly affect my airline career, but do put hours in my logbook and smiles on my face. That’s why Ed and I undertook the task of working on my tail-wheel endorsement. I’ve also been promised a seaplane lesson, so I think I’ll pursue that rating next. Useless? Yeah. Fun? It’s bound to be.
I’ve still not decided which article to submit, nor to whom I’m going to submit it. I was sorta fishing for a bit a more in the way of suggestions (hint hint). I seriously don’t have a clue. I wish I knew someone in the publishing business; help would be invaluable right about now. And speaking of that, special thanks go out to Hailey and Sandy for responding to my pleas for input. Everyone else… Well, did I happen to mention that you’re cut out of my will?
No, wait a minute. I’m putting you IN my will!
Ha! You’ll owe millions!!!
Joey
You've posted many gems in the history of your blog but I must say that one of my favorites was "Character Analysis - The Last Of The Hangar Kids"
ReplyDeleteIt's got tons of heart in it!!
Now send it to someone already!!!
Love you,
Rick
OK....I sent texts with PawPaw's input and mine, but I agree with Rick the Hangar Kids is great! I will try to get time to review and pick others. I think more than one is appropriate. No get me and PawPaw out of that will! We did respond!!
ReplyDeleteLove you,
Mom