Scudrunners

Or not, in this case.



Someone needs some balls. Big ones.

I think my uncle has been dead enough decades that I can mention that
he had a set of wires right across the road at the threshold of a grass strip
on his farm.

So he did what anyone with my Y chromosome would do - pulled the wires
down with his tractor, and called Hydro and told them he hit them with his
airplane, landing.

So, Hydro comes out and fixes the lines. Next day, my uncle gets the tractor
out and pulls them down. Calls Hydro. Hit the wires again with his airplane,
they fixed them.

This goes on for a while, until Hydro gets the bright idea to run the wires
underground across the threshold, and my uncle can land on his grass strip
without dodging wires, big balls or not.


I have some truly incredible stories to tell yet, but I have to wait for the people
to die before I can tell them. Sorry about that.

I have this dead friend, he was an amazing craftsman. Built a super cub, on
wheels and skiis. Built another cub, this one on floats. Gorgeous workmanship,
they never came that good from the factory. Now my buddy took electrical tape
and put the letters from his first super sub on his second super cub. They were
both yellow, and he said he could only fly one of them at a time. Made me a tad
nervous, to tell you the truth.

He was a thousand hour student pilot, which I didn't have a problem with, except
for the passengers he carried. When he died, I put my friend Bobby on my right
wing and we pushed the props up and circled his open grave with his body in it,
both prop discs pointing right at the grave. Apparently it was so noisy, no one
could hear a word that the preacher said. Perfect.

Terrible day, when they buried him. Freezing rain, low cloud so time for some
low-altitude close formation. But we put some airplanes in the sky for his funeral,
and lots of airplane noise into his open grave, so I think we did good.

For my burial, I'd like eight afterburners at 50 feet, if that's ok.


PS. Apologies if the talk of testicles and death is a downer. To cheer you up, here's
a blueberry pie I made from scratch:



The granulated sugar, egg wash and bits of butter stuffed in the openings is essential.

Who doesn't like blueberry pie?

I think I've told this story before. Go to the district TC office, I think to get a type rating
signed off, carrying my logbook. TC Inspector - nice lady - comes out and I greet her,
"So, what have I been up to, lately?". She sees my (latest) logbook on the counter and
blurts out, "Gosh, I'd like to get my hands on that!". I laugh, and say "No". She's retired
now, so I think I can mention her without her being destroyed at work.

That is so sad... Do you know the outcome?

Yup. Baked this apple pie today:



Who doesn't like apple pie?

I fired up my new smoker. first try at smoked pork ribs was a success.

I knew a float pilot out in Ontario hauled a new client out to his cottage on some lake from right out of downtown Toronto (some bay street guy)

He landed, tied up to the dock and helped him off.

Passenger said "Good flight, I always wondering if the planes went below the power lines"

He never saw any wire on his way in or on a map, he was so stunned didn't dare say "what wires" took off and circled over the lake he and then headed home

Wow! Those are some nice ribs!

PS. I suspect that Toronto guy had a great sense of humor, and
never saw any wires :^)

Through some genetic weirdness, I am old and have a lot of hair. On my head.
Me in the front seat, my son in the back seat, slowed down to 250 knots for the
banana pass at an airshow.



For grins, I like to sit in the waiting room of a very expensive Palo Alto clinic that
does hair transplants and strike up conversations with other people waiting, and
tell them that I used to be completely bald, and these guys do GREAT work!

You're probably not going to believe me, but where I live, there are over 160 MILLION
people with double (or single) digit IQ's.

This explains an awful lot.

Speaking of orange balls

That won't buff out...

That is what happened to aviation writer Richard Bach:

https://data.ntsb.gov/Docket?ProjectID=84883

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/ ... lane-crash

Being famous is certainly no guarantee of safety:

http://buffettworld.com/incidents/jamaica-mistaica/

On January 16, 1996, Jimmy Buffett’s Grumman HU-16 Albatross, dubbed the Hemisphere Dancer, was shot at by Jamaican authorities as he taxied in the waters near Negril.
The Jamaicans had mistaken it for a drug-runner’s plane, though Jimmy had “only come for chicken.” On board the plane was Chris Blackwell from Island Records and U2’s Bono and his family.

Bono describes the incident in a Belfast Telegraph article:

“These boys were shooting all over the place. I felt as if we were in the middle of a James Bond movie — only this was real. It was absolutely terrifying and I honestly thought we were all going to die.

“Thank God we were safe and sound. My only concern was for their safety. It was very scary, let me tell you. You can’t believe the relief I felt when I saw the kids were okay.”

When they heard the shots, Bono, his wife Ali, and their children dove for cover fearing they were about to be killed. He was so shocked that he and his family left Jamaica and flew straight to Miami, Florida.

The Hemisphere Dancer escaped relatively unscathed except for a few bullet holes.

Buffett penned a tune about the incident: “Jamaica Mistaica”, which appeared on the 1996 album Banana Wind.