Chapter 43

Still Cindy’s turn:

I love today’s ‘connected’ society. By the time Jason and I had made our way back to the FBO office to wait for another rental car, there was a pair of reporters, one from a TV station, the other from a newspaper. Seems that the photos taken by the emergency crew had found their way to a couple of news organizations. That got us accosted by a couple of reporters and a couple of people with cameras, including a video guy.

“Those are my clients,” Bo said. “You might ask them politely if they’d like to be interviewed.”

“Thank you, Bo,” Jason said. “Cindy?”

I giggled. “I’ve done interviews. I reserve the right to terminate the interview at any time. My permission implies that I own any and all notes, video or other collection of data pertaining to this interview and if I determine to terminate the interview, my permission for public use of said data is legally terminated,” I said. “Do you agree?”

“Huh?” squeaked the reporterette from the TV station.

“My words. My pictures. All are property of my employer and myself. Do you agree to our terms?”

She started to backpedal fast. The guy from the newspaper said, “You can’t DO that...”

“Easy, then. No interview. If you publish my name, the name of my company, or the circumstances of that incident and we find them in any way derogatory, you will deal with our legal department. Thank you. Bye-bye!” And I wheeled around to leave.

Jason’s mouth gaped open.

“Sir?” the reporterette said. “Do you...”

“What SHE said,” Jason told her.

“Okay,” the reporterette said.

I whipped out my iPhone. “Okay. I’m Cynthia Richards, recording an agreement between myself and my company and a representative of K--, a TV station as represented by ... Your name, please?”

“Britney Frazier of K-- News.”

“Now say ‘I understand and agree to the conditions as presented to me’.”

“I agree to the conditions presented to me.”

“Okay. Now, you sir?” I said to the other reporter.

“Brice Sullivan of The Daily News. I agree.”

“Good. Now...”

“Dang, lady,” Brice said. “Are you ALWAYS like this?”

Jason, protector of us all, jumped in. “Sir, you’re addressing Doctor Cynthia Richards, PhD. Youngest doctorate ever given by Auburn University. And yes, she’s ALWAYS up.”

“Thank you, Jason,” I said. “Jason Ellerbee is one of our engineers. He was in the co-pilot’s seat when we lost an engine.”

“So it WAS a crash?” the reporterette asked.

“Definitely NOT a crash,” I said. “That’s the whole idea behind multi-engined aircraft – if one engine fails, you have the safety of the remaining engine to effect a much safer landing. We didn’t even spill Jason’s coffee.”

“Excuse me,” Brice interrupted. “Youngest PhD. How old ARE you?”

“I will be eighteen in September.”

“And you can fly a plane?”

“Jason and I are both private pilots. One can become a private pilot at the age of seventeen. I did that. I also got my multi-engine rating and I’m going to get my instrument flight rating before the end of summer, and my commercial license on my eighteenth birthday, just like I got my private license the week of my seventeenth birthday.”

“What field is your doctorate in?” Britney asked.

I noted that the ‘record’ light was flashing on the camera aimed at me. I suppressed a giggle, kept the smirk. “Physics. I also hold a master’s in electrical engineering.”

The conversation took a little detour about what we were doing in Kansas, then went back to the incident.

“Seriously,” I said, “this is exactly why pilots are trained. When we had the problem, we handled the emergency just as I’ve been trained. The air traffic control system functioned perfectly and professionally, the plane performed just as could be expected with its problem, and nobody got hurt. Nothing damaged. Still didn’t spill Jason’s coffee.”

“Do you know what caused the problem?” Brice asked.

“Yes, we do,” I said. “The FBO’s got a very competent staff. Their mechanic jumped right into the investigation. A bit of control equipment on the engine failed. It was thirty-odd years old, had been doing its job for three thousand hours, and had passed the last inspection six months ago. Today it quit. Six hundred thousand miles.” I giggled. “Don’tcha hate unreliable equipment?”

Questions about aircraft maintenance and longevity. “My friend Mister Barton’s flying a plane built in 1946. Still works like the day they rolled it out of the factory. With TLC, airplanes last a long time.” I smiled. “Of course, when they don’t, things get really tense. But that’s what we train for.”

A few more questions about me and school and the company. Those won’t make the news story, but I think they’re part of a concerted technique to loosen the interviewee up to see if anything juicy comes out.

“No, you can’t get a picture of the plane,” Bo said. “Restricted area. Insurance restrictions. Besides, there’s nothing to see except a cowling off, anyway.”

In the midst of that hubbub Jason signed for a rental car. They won’t let ME rent one. I’m ‘underage’. It would be funny if it weren’t so inconvenient.

The two news crews left.

“I dunno how they found out...” Bo said.

“Somebody took pictures, probably sent them out and they managed to find their way to the newsrooms. A lot of newsrooms encourage that ‘citizen reporter’ thing. I’m surprised,” I said. “No fire. No bodies. We’re hardly news.”

“Must be a slow day,” Jason said.

“Yeah. And Dan’s haulin’ butt with Nikki’s Mooney, trying to get here...”

“And it’s likely we can fly back tomorrow,” Jason said. “Seems a waste of a trip.”

“My Dan. He worries.”

Jason snorted. “He didn’t get to see Cindy in action when we lost the engine. I was impressed, myself.”

“You were a great help. At least you didn’t squeal and get the vapors...”

“Thank you. Tell my wife that. She’s worried you’ll turn our son into an orphan.”

“She IS not!” I squealed.

“You two sound like you’re married,” the lady behind the counter said.

“Nope. He married my adopted sister. I have the right to dispense misery upon him in his wife’s absence.”

The lady laughed, shaking her head. “Now I understand completely.”

“Jase,” I said, why don’t you call a hotel and see if you can get a couple of rooms. Dan’s got at least another three hours of flight to get here.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. He tossed me the keys to the rental car. “You can go rescue our luggage from the plane.”

I commandeered a golfcart from the FBO, retrieved our bags. Yes, I had enough clothes for the night. I never pack for the schedule. Dan has me trained – plan for at least some level of disaster – better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. In short order the luggage was in the car.

Before we left I checked back with the mechanic. “Parts will be installed before noon. You want a test flight?”

“You betcha,” I said.

“Then you’ll be out of here by early afternoon.”

“Sounds good.” I went back inside, collected Jason. Let him drive since I’m seventeen and can’t drive a rental car, despite the fact that I can land an airplane with the flight characteristics of a ruptured duck.

Both rooms are in Jason’s name. That ‘she’s only seventeen’ thing again. I toyed with the idea of a shower but decided to wait. It’s a pretty big shower and Dan proves to be very helpful under those circumstances.

It’s only when I stretch out on the bed that the enormity of the day hits me. I actually get the shakes. I want my Dan, but he’s still a couple of hours out. So I call Nikki.

“Seriously, Cin,” she squeaks. “You REALLY lost an engine?”

“Really.”

“I hope I’m cool enough to handle that...”

“You just DO,” I said. “Like when you tested for your private license and they pulled that ‘emergency landing’ thing. It’s YOUR plane. You just take charge and DO it...”

“But I watch you and Wally and there’s a lot of steps...”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘it’s too complex’ crap, Doctor Granger...”

Giggle. “Well, yeah, but it’s things you have to remember and you have to have a feel for...”

“So how’d the news go around the office?”

“Which office? 3Sigma or Auburn?”

“All of ‘em.”

“You need to up your game. People are getting sort of jaded about you and your flying biz. It’s like, ‘Well, it’s Cindy. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have access to an F-16.”

“F-16’s only got one engine.”

“Pffft! You know what I mean.”

“I guess. But it was like, when it happened, like when I get in the zone on math or some problem ... the outside world just shut down and there it was, me, the airplane...”

“Susan said Jason helped.”

“Jason DID help. Checklist. Handled the gear and flaps, pushed a rudder pedal until I could get us trimmed up...”

“And he didn’t crap himself.”

“Nope. Jason gets a medal. Bravery in the face of Cindy.”

“I’ll mention that to Susan,” she giggled. Nikki giggling. That means things are okay. That’s what I need from my sister.

“Talking about it helps, you know,” I told my friend. “It didn’t hit me until I got to the room and lay down, then ... You’re still my support, you know...”

“Sisters’re like that.”

“Indeed they are.”

“So when will you be back?”

“The mechanic says he’ll have the part installed before noon. We sort of want to do a test flight. I’m thinking we put that controller through its range of operation. The mechanic signs off, and then we’re on the way home. So tomorrow, five or six...”

“But you’re okay now?” Nikki queried.

“Yeah ... I think so.”

“Wanna say ‘hi’ to the munchkins?”

“Of course.”

“They’re just coming through the door.”

I heard the timbre of the phone change as she put it on speaker. “Tell Cindy ‘hi’.”

Trio. “Hi, Cindy!” then Terri, “Glad you didn’t get hurt.” And Rachel, “Or break the airplane.”

“Be nice to my Aunt Cindy, y’all,” Vicki chirped. “When’re you getting home?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening if the repairs work okay,” I said.

“Good!” Terri said. “Nikki’s beating us when you’re not looking.”

I heard Nikki’s exasperated cluck. “Did you three get any further on that track to quadruped idea?”

“Yes,” Terri said. “And we think we can handle some limb loss...”

“Cindy, Let me go see where this is going.”

“‘Kay, love,” I said, then to the Mafia, “Y’all get ready to tell me what’s going on in those pineapple heads of yours.”

“Yes, Aunt Cindy,” came the chorus.

I rolled back over onto my back. I do feel better now. I stretched, then got the laptop out and ran over a few emails of significance, checked the local TV station, saw a little piece, video of me being interviewed, heavily edited, about twenty or thirty seconds, a little write-up, a still shot of me and Jason and the emergency crew that was taken while we were still out there on the taxiway. Okay, not bad. I need to remember to buy a newspaper in the morning.

Next thing is a phone call from one of the techs we brought up here.

“Hi, Burt,” I answered. “What’s up?”

“I got me ‘n’ Dickie here. What happened?”

“I brought y’all to Kansas to work, that’s what happened.”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Oh, you mean the engine failure?”

“You know we do.”

“The controller for the turbo on the #1 engine went south just after we took off, heading for home. Me ‘n’ Jason shut the engine down, returned to the airport. Wasn’t that big a deal. Just like practice.”