Day 143 - Geeeeear Stop!

Mission accomplished, checkride passed. I had to go fly the exact same off-the-wall approach, but I got it this time. I’m now officially a dually-designated, consummated, consecrated, blessed, and totally insane, multi-engine instrument pilot. Rogee! And as promised, to celebrate the passing of the ride, as well as to commemorate my last flight into Walker County, one final low approach was conducted, as well as one last call of “gear stop” over the radio, with a natural stretching of the “e” sound. And we’re still not exactly sure what “gear stop” even means!
Following my arrival back in Walker County, freshly-minted instrument ticket in hand, I went to lunch with the great Dan “Nasty” McClung to celebrate my ride and discuss future business ventures that he and I have in the works (mostly he). Dan treated me to a meal at the country club, as well as my second major moving experience, when he presented me with my very own Red Eagle Air Sports (Dan’s air show team) challenge coin. I didn’t even know they existed, as I’ve never seen anyone else with one, nor had I seen him present one to anyone else. I honestly don't know of anyone else to whom he has given one, and I would know, considering the fit that everyone else through over my autographed Red Eagle poster. Should another pilot have been given one, I would have seen it right beside the taunting display of an accompanying middle finger of said pilot. Regardless, the glistening half-dollar-sized silver medallion, bearing the Red Eagle logo on front and team motto on back, now has a permanent place in my wallet as the very intent of a challenge coin is that it is to be carried with you at all times. For those unaware, the legend of the challenge coin goes something like this:

“Air warfare was a new phenomenon during World War I. When the army created flying squadrons they were manned with volunteer pilots from every walk of civilian life. While some of the early pilots came from working class or rural backgrounds, many were wealthy Ivy League students who withdrew from classes in the middle of the year, drawn by the adventure and romance of the new form of warfare.
As the legend goes, one such Ivy Leaguer, a wealthy lieutenant, ordered small, solid-bronze medallions (or coins) struck, which he then presented to the other pilots in his squadron as mementos of their service together. The coin was gold-plated, bore the squadron’s insignia, and was quite valuable. One of the pilots in the squadron, who had never owned anything like the coin, placed it in a leather pouch he wore around his neck for safekeeping. A short while later, this pilot’s aircraft was heavily damaged by ground fire (other sources claim it was an aerial dogfight), forcing him to land behind enemy lines and allowing him to be captured by the Germans. The Germans confiscated the personal belongings from his pockets, but they didn’t catch the leather pouch around his neck. On his way to a permanent prisoner of war facility, he was held overnight in a small German-held French village near the front. During the night, the town was bombarded by the British, creating enough confusion to allow the pilot to escape.
The pilot avoided German patrols by donning civilian attire, but all of his identification had been confiscated so he had no way to prove his identity. With great difficulty, he crept across no-man’s land and made contact with a French patrol. Unfortunately for him, the French had been on the lookout for German saboteurs dressed as civilians. The French mistook the American pilot for a German saboteur and immediately prepared to execute him.
This challenge coin commemorates the imminent promotion of Marine Colonel Yurovich to CAG of CVW-9.
Desperate to prove his allegiance and without any identification, the pilot pulled out the coin from his leather pouch and showed it to his French captors. One of the Frenchmen recognized the unit insignia on the coin and delayed the execution long enough to confirm the pilot’s identity.
Once the pilot safely returned to his squadron, it became a tradition for all members to carry their coin at all times. To ensure compliance, the pilots would challenge each other to produce the coin. If the challenged couldn’t produce the coin, he was required to buy a drink of choice for the challenger; if the challenged could produce the coin, the challenger would purchase the drink.”

Thank God for Wikipedia.
Being a former fighter pilot himself, this bit of aviation folklore/military tradition is right up Dan's alley. He made it very clear to me that the presentation of my own Red Eagle coin, unavailable for purchase at any price, symbolized my acceptance into an elite brotherhood of airmen. In fact, he flat refused to simply hand it to me; it had to be palmed from one aviator to the next in the form of a handshake. Folks, he might as well have handed me a million dollars! In fact, the money would have meant less than this token of kinship. When someone of that caliber acknowledges that you are of the same fabric as he, and extends that hand of brotherhood, it's absolutely earth-shaking. No amount of money can purchase that approval. The coin is a symbol of that fellowship which I am so fortunate to enjoy. It is absolutely priceless to me, and will go everywhere with me.
My levity was to be short-lived though, as the day was bittersweet. The afternoon and evening saw the arrival of many of my local friends at the hangar; Pratt, Al, Glenn, etc. Unfortunately, they had come with a melancholy purpose: to say goodbye to me. The company is wanting me out of here and on my way to Bowling Green by tomorrow. I don't know if that will actually happen on their schedule or not, but either way, I'm not happy about it. In fact, I'm downright distraught. The only upside is that I carry with me, now and forever, the support of some of the finest people I've ever met. I don't want to leave them, don't get me wrong, but in a way I feel like they're with me for the rest of my life. Each of them has invested a part of themselves into me, so I never really have to leave them. The friendship and support that has been shown to me, a total stranger, is unlike anything I've ever known. These last few months would have been so different if it weren't for them (and you all as well, but your time for acknowledgement comes later). So it is with infinite love, respect, gratitude and admiration that I acknowledge the cherished members of my Alabama family:

Captain Ed Banks

Captain Al Brown

Captain Dan "Nasty" McClung

Captain Glenn Rutland

Sara Rutland

Captain Pratt Sherer

Dennis Smith

Ryan Sox

And, of course, my hero and chief mentor...

Captain Joey "Gordo" Sanders

Well, as Porky would say, "Ehh... Th-th-th-th-th-th-that's all folks!" I'll check in with you tomorrow and let you know how and when the final goodbye to Jasper will take place, as well as the plans for my invasion of the Bluegrass State. If history has taught us anything, they're screwed.


Look out Kentucky, the Lloyd's a' comin'.

Joey