Chapter 20

Cindys turn:

When Cindy stops flying around, she’s somewhere in the middle of research, design and development at 3Sigma Robotics.

Let’s see what’s on at the lab today. Terri’s got Sunny Kim – actually Kim Soon Yi – nice Korean girl, field technician with 3Sigma Engineering. Terri’s giving Sunny – I keep wanting to call her ‘Kim’ – our ‘almost ready for prime time’ construction helper-bot, Bubba-bot. Sunny’s taking Bubba-bot with her on a project with our western bunch. Out of that, we should be able to get a salable product.

I won’t tell you WHO wants to buy that, but I think our new Pilatus will be paid for, and then some, out of the profits AFTER our costs to date, including a heavy round of bonuses.

There’s been a lot of activity around videos of one of our competitor’s robots – two bots, actually, one a quadruped, the other bipedal, that can run.

“Bot-bot’s been able to do that for a year,” Terri said in a meeting. “We posted videos.”

Vicki giggled. “And we’ve exchanged papers. And ours has tracklets for feet. Or wheels.”

“Smart wheels,” Derek said. “Rache ‘n’ me worked those up.”

“And the real thing’s not how fast it can get somewhere, it’s what it can do when it gets there,” Derek said. Derek and Jason had taken a Bot-bot platform to a paintball field.

“Ain’t FAIR!” one of the other participants, possessor of several purple blotches on his ‘carcass’ said. “He’s too small, an’...”

“Somebody shot ‘im,” Derek said. Smirked. “Just was not YOU.”

So Derek is building a weapons segment for the centipede.

And... “I think it’s obvious, guys.” Derek, in a meeting. “Smaller target, closer to the ground...”

“Less mobile...”

“Then let’s try Derek’s ‘inchworm’ thing,” Rachel said.

I didn’t gasp because as far as I or anyone else knows, she has no personal knowledge of trying any other ‘worm’ belonging to Derek.

“That’s gonna mean that the segment actuators are going to have to be more robust,” I inserted.

“Working on it,” he said. “Me ‘n’ Jerry are reworking the segment chassis design so we can go up a notch on the available force.” That’s synergy. Jerry’s a graduate engineer. Derek’s a teen boy. Between Jerry’s careful analysis and Derek’s ‘I think this is waaay strong enough’ we get good design.

“Then why am I worrying about it?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it.” Terri glanced at Jerry and the rest of her crew. “We’ll get there pretty quick.”

So I’m getting all happy over robotics and honestly, I’m kind of relieved. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE flying. It’s, well on some days, it gets up to the SECOND best thing that Dan brought into my life. First place is ALWAYS him. Talking, holding, mating, living – it’s all best with Dan. But I was thinking that I really need to back away from the flying and make us some money.

And, as they say - “When it rains, it pours” – just like on the old Morton’s Salt label, but I always thought it was cute.

Up to my ears in prep for a lecture, when my phone buzzes: ID says “Jester, Stearman.” Hmmph. That’s the guy who’s rebuilding the Stearman.

I answer, “Mr. Jester, Cindy here. Good morning to you!”

“Good morning, Mizz Cindy. And I have a deal for you, if you want it.”

“Delightful, Mr. Jester! You play with old airplanes. That’s right up there with loving kittens in my book. What’s up?”

“Cindy, I know we said your plane wouldn’t be ready until late June or early July, but we have an issue...”

My heart fell. The Stearman is my connection to aviation history – a time when wood and fabric and tubes and round engines ruled the skies. At first it was just a thing to do – get the Stearman fixed up, but after we started signing checks and issuing specifications, I started feeling an attachment. This was different than the excitement of Lenya, her pretty Swiss self sitting over there at our airfield.

“Issue? Nothing bad...”

He sighed. “It sort of is, for me.”

Okay, the guy’s in his sixties. Health? Quick prayer.

“No, you can imagine, though, that we don’t have a lot of operating cash. The guy at the top of the list is having some financial issues, and his requirements were the same as yours, including the paint scheme.”

“You told me that,” I said. “I’m jealous.”

“Well, then channel your feelings, lady. If you want it, we can have it ready tomorrow, with the “Bill Dukes” script. And since your old bird had a good air-frame and a good engine, you get a discount. Want it?”

I squealed. “I’m all over it, sir. What’s the deal?”

“Cindy, this is a cash-flow business -- most of ‘em are. If you can spring for $45K right away, it’s yours. That’s what HE was supposed to do...”

“Sir, that sounds pretty good -- I’ll take it, but I can’t come over there until Friday morning, at best. And I’ll have to arrange transport. Will that work for you?”

“That would work for us, Cindy. It’s already been test flown, and we’ll organize the rest.”

“Got it, sir. I’ll have a cashier’s check to you by Fed-Ex. You’ll get that tomorrow. I THINK I can do the timing for pickup, but I’ll have to organize some stuff here. Let me get back to you.”

“Oh, I understand. When I called I figured I had a snowball’s chance in Hell that you could move. I mean, money’s a hard thing for some people to move around...”

“Certified check coming at you, Fed-Ex.”

“You’re a relief.”

Wheels turn. Cindy likes her toys, Cindy does. Dan’s gonna crap. Might have to bat my eyelashes or something so he’ll get over the next step.

“So my old plane, still in the queue?”

“Yeah. We get out of this bind, I’ll finish ‘er on spec. Put ‘er up for sale. Them ol’ birds move pretty quick...”

“Uh, don’t put ‘er on sale just yet. Keep the specs. Keep working.”

“What you got in mind?”

“A while back, me ‘n’ my husband were at the seashore. Birds out there flying. Terns, he told me. Said they always travelled in pairs. I asked him why. “One good tern deserves another...”

“Your husband’s an evil man that’d make a pun like that.”

“Yeah ... Evil. And I’m thinking that there will be occasions where two Stearmans might look nice in the sky together.”

“My wallet likes the way you think.”

“Consider it a deal, then,” I said.

“So just like that?”

“Yessir. When I finish on the phone with you, I’m getting with our money person. You’ll have a check tomorrow. Put a few hours on the engine because after I fly around the field once, she’s headed for Louisiana. Mister Dukes is gonna love ‘er...”

“He can’t still fly, can he?”

“No, but I know who’s gonna be sitting behind him when we get him in the front seat.”

“So that’s part of this deal?”

“Was his plane. Well, sort of. Now we’re gonna put ‘im in it, just because...”

I get off the phone and somebody looks in my door. Terri.

“Happy sounds,” she said. “Something you can tell us?”

I smiled. “That Stearman we were getting to send back to Louisiana?”

“Yeahhhh...” and her smile started to broaden.

“We pick it up Friday. Flying it here, then Saturday it goes to Louisiana. I need to tell ‘em. They’re having a crawfish boil Saturday and we’re gonna be in the middle of it with that Stearman.”

Her eyes sparkled. “That OLD one you flew?”

“Not exactly. This one’s been rebuilt to zero time with a new engine. Ours is in line for rebuild.”

“So you’re gonna go get it Friday.”

“Yep!”

And bring it here?”

“Yep!”

And give everybody who wants one, like, a flight?”

“Yep.”

“You know...”

“I know.”

I’d ordinarily pick Nikki, but she’s all into nursing her new-born. Grin-worthy. She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. Mommyhood fits ‘er just fine, complete with Dan 2.0 hovering around.

Hmm. Tina -- I’ll call her. Punch the number, Cindy. She answers.

“Good morning, Cindy Lou. What’s up?” Yes, same ‘Cindy Lou’ joke, ever since somebody called me ‘Cindy Lou Who’ like in the Christmas movie.

“And a gracious good morning to you, Sis. You up for a dawn patrol, Friday? Your bird?”

Squeal. “Yup. What’s happening?”

“Sis, it’s the Stearman, over in Mississippi. We got an unscheduled delivery -- some other guy dropped out of the sequence, and we get it earlier than expected. Wanna take me for retrieval?”

“Oh, HELL yeah! I wanna ride in one of those beasts!”

OK. Phone call to Mr. Jester, texts to Mr. Bill, Mr. Dave, and their girls. Gotta smile -- Deena and Haley -- they think they’re being all “innocent”, but we already have it figured out. Poor Bill -- I wonder how he survives? And to Sandy I text: “Make sure Dan 3.0 and Nina are there.”

“Of course. Crawfish boil, remember?” Nothing draws Cajuns together faster in the spring than boiled crawfish.

And now, to the campus book-store: I need ten Auburn T-shirts: six in women’s large, four in men’s extra-large. And a text to Tina specifying the uniform for tomorrow. Of COURSE, large. Look, you’re not allowed to wear these unless they’re sloppy. Get a grip, here.

OK, next day. Early morning, and we’re off for Cleveland, Mississippi. Seems like they could’ve picked a better name, but we don’t care, really. Some phone calls, and we landed at 10am. Rolled up next to a sparkling STEARMAN! Beautiful, ugly, all at the same time!

Mr. Jester walked out, and I introduced Tina. He said, “Cindy, I’m pretty sure this is what you wanted. Got the “Bill Dukes” script, all that. And this is a zero-time Jacobs engine. With these wings, you have about three hours of range, easily.”

“Just right, sir. This bird’s gonna LIVE again. It’s important to a really nice old guy. And if all this works out, it’ll be his first ride in quite a while.”

“Bill Dukes,” he smiled. “One of the old names in the biz.”

“Yessir.”

“OK, darlin’. You gave me a check, and she’s all yours. And if you hadn’t already guessed, this helps us out of a bind, really.”

I smiled. “And we’ll see the other one in July, right?”

He smiled.

Walk-arounds. Tina’s is easy, this bird is peculiar, to us. Mister Jester guided us. Simple, though, except for needing a stepladder. A lot. Big ol’ thing. Nine feet to the top of the wing where you can look into the fuel tank.

‘Course the fuel gauge is a little plastic tube under the center section of the top wing. It’s full of gas and there’s a little red bead on a stalk floating in it. Bead’s at the top – full tank. Red rings down the length of the tube tell the level. If the float stops floating the bead drops to the bottom of the tube. It’s the opposite of the one on mister Barton’s Aeronca, where the fuel level pushes a little wire up where you can see it. Old-school. Works.