By lex, on January 21st, 2009
It was late at night as the Pope, who had departed this world, was approaching the gates of heaven. There was no one around, but there was a small shack just prior to the gates with a light on. The Pope stepped into the shack and startled a young man half asleep sitting at a small gray desk.
“Excuse me” said the Pope, “but I’m supposed to check in here with St. Peter, but there is no one at the gate.”
“Yea, Yea” said the young man, “Where are your orders?”
“I don’t have any orders,” said the Pope.
“Well it’s too late to check in tonight anyhow.” said the young man, “Just go around to the back of the building, find a rack and dump your gear in a locker. St. Peter will be here in the morning and you can check in then.”
By lex, on January 17th, 2009
So, got the holler from the weekend employer that there was a cancellation for the 1300 go, ergo an empty seat. Would Son Number One like a hack at it?
Turned the corner into the airport parking lot today and saw something bizarre on final. Couldn’t make out if it was a helicopter or a fixed wing single for a moment – I was on the motorcycle, so my attention was divided. Turned out to be a Light Sport Aircraft (LSA) known as a “Sky Boy.” Looked like a barcalounger with fabric wings and a lawnmower engine driving a pusher prop.
Took a few quick pics around the ramp. There was the SNJ ready to go, with the big Pratt & Whitney ready to bark out its song. I was on the ramp anyway, so this lovely example of a Ryan Navion Myers 200D had to make the cut. As did this slick Mooney and the Cirrus SR-22 right alongside.
By lex, on January 14th, 2009
Last Saturday morning I realized shortly before heading down to the airport that I couldn’t find my wallet. I was running late, and could only do a brief search. As a precaution I locked out my credit card account, and on Sunday I tossed the house looking for the wallet, even going back to the last store at which I remembered having used. The clerk at the store was sympathetic, but no – he hadn’t seen a thing.
By lex, on January 11th, 2009
We’d ten flights scheduled for the Vargas yesterday, split five apiece between myself and Earl-the-Pearl, not to mention four or five biplane rides and one hack in the warbird. Might be that folks are cashing in on gift cards, or it might be pent-up demand – December was very slow – but it was good to be back in the air again.
With all that “work” to do, I was up early. A cup of coffee in hand I let the dogs both greater and lesser out back right at sunrise, stiffening my resolve to face the morning chill. It’s not so much by the standards of folks living in places like Detroit and Rapid City I don’t think, but it does get into the low 50′s over night. Some times into the 40′s. I positively shiver.
By lex, on January 4th, 2009
Roy Boehm passed into the clearing at the end of the path Tuesday night. He was 84 years old.
Boehm had served his country in three wars, including service in the largest surface-only engagement of World War II, the Battle of Cape Esperance. His ship – the USS Duncan – took multiple hits from 6″ and 8″ guns before going under the waves. Although wounded by shrapnel in his head and body, he managed to save another shipmate before the ship went down. While in the ocean he was forced to fight sharks off for his own life. For 13 hours.
By lex, on December 11th, 2008
TINS: Back in the days when real fighter pilots flew F-8′s, and their preferred weapon was the cannon, there was an airwing commander who fancied himself quite the critic of airmanship. While in overhead holding he espied a Crusader jock whose pattern work was not quite the thing.
As the F-8 pilot turned his go-fast for to land, CAG spoke up on Tower Freq: “Crusader off the 180, you were too wide abeam.”
To which our intrepid airman replied, in the best traditions of the service: “Bite my a**.”
In response to which the CAG replied, “I fully intend to.”
A short but exciting conversation ensued on the flight deck, in consequence of which the saucy jock was flown off the line, back to the P.I. for to cool his heels until such time as he could remember his manners.
The next day an Alpha Strike to a heavily defended target was briefed to the assembled throng. A daylight strike it was, and the chart showed a dense thicket of pins representing Triple-A tubes and SAM sites. The Intel Guy finished his pitch to a suddenly introspective strike package with the words, “It’s going to be hot work today. Sucks to be you. Any comments or questions?”
An F-8 pilot spoke up, asking, “Is there still time to tell CAG to bite our a**es?”
That’s what it took to get bounced off the line, during the Vietnam War. These days?
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