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David
Board Letter
David
Board Letter
Working
For Myself
The
Abandoned Field
David
Board Letter
Growing
Up in WV
David
Board Letter
David
Board Letter
Puerto
Rico - 2
Puerto
Rico
The
Aztec
1939
Piper J-3
Luscombe
8A,
Planning
Routine Flight
Rain
on the Roof
Buying
the History
Most
Recent
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Darkness
July
24, 2007
The
early summer twilight was fading by the minute. Darkness was
descending like a cloak on the rugged West Virginia landscape
that was slipping by a thousand feet below the dangling wheels
of the white Luscombe I was flying.
I felt the first
stirrings of panic rising in my chest as the seriousness of my
situation dawned on me and I stared frantically down at the
lights of cars moving on the now invisible roads below. Inside
them I knew were ordinary people, safely making their way home
along familiar highways, following the bright beams of their
headlights to the warmth of family and the comforts of hearth
and supper. I wanted to be with them. I wanted out of this devil
machine that was carrying me to my apparent doom. I wanted my
mom.
It was June of 1962. The week before I had not
only soloed the Piper Colt trainer at the old airpark where I
was learning to fly, I'd bought a perky little Luscombe 8A the
following day and checked out in it too. At that point I'd
logged about 9 total hours in the air, I'd soloed two machines
and made one of them mine. My flying career was right on track.
 Now
of course, with these milestones behind me it was time for the
coupe de gras of my new avocation. The graduation ceremony, as
it were, must now occur, just as it had for countless thousands
of new pilots, since the first flyers began teaching their art
to others. I must now do the obligatory first solo flight over
my parent's house.
In the best tradition, I would now
show the world, my small world anyway, that I had mastered my
fate and conquered the air. I was now a pilot, with the likes of
Charles Lindbergh and other notables, and people needed to know
this. What better way to announce my membership in this
exclusive club than a screaming pass (in my mind only, in
reality it would be a leisurely aerial stroll) above my home
village.
A small problem existed. My parents' home and
the target of this surreptitious flight lay some 90 air miles to
the south east of the border town where I was now based. At 9
hours total time logged, I had not yet been exposed to some of
the more minor details of flying that I suspected I might need
on such a flight. Bothersome items such as navigation and cross
country planning had not been covered during my brief
aeronautical tenure. But because of the importance and immediate
necessity of this mission, I felt these inconveniences could be
overcome.
As fate would have it, I happened to work
with a very experienced pilot. He was an old hand who possessed
an actual Private License and perhaps 60 hours in the air. I
knew that a pilot of such experience and credentials could
supply me with the knowledge needed for such an undertaking, if
only I approached him in the right way.
The next day
at work as we sat eating our lunch, I craftily brought the
conversation around to flying. He was a willing participant and
listened intently as I shared my exciting purchase of the
Luscombe with him. I explained that some day, far in the future
when I had learned about navigation and aeronautical maps and
such, I would use my airplane to fly back to my home in central
West Virginia. How long, I wondered aloud, did he think that
would take?
He took the bait. Eager to show his
prowess, he quickly brought his chart, plotter and flight
computer from the car. I showed him where the village of Arden
was on the chart and he measured the distance. He asked me the
speed of the Luscombe, and I gave him the number I remembered
seeing on the air speed indicator during the brief moments I had
flown the ship in level flight. Mysterious twirling of the
flight computer ensued, accompanied by low mutterings from my
guru. With a triumphant smile he then announced that when I was
a fully formed pilot and had mastered the art of navigation, I
could expect my Luscombe to carry me home in about 56 minutes,
give or take for wind, whatever that meant.
This
was wonderful news. I would have time to spare for making my
flight after work and getting back on the ground well before
dark. I had all the information I needed.
Today was a
beautiful summer's day with little or no wind and the weather
looked as though it would hold. I would go this very evening.
To be continued….
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