Chapter 36

Cindy’s turn:

Let me get OUT of here before the explosion. Terri’s back from her honeymoon, and word’s leaked to me that Rachel and Derek are now a consummated couple and...

“Okay,” I said to an assemblage of aviation resources. “Don Matzke’s got a twenty-two thousand dollar hop coming up to North Dakota. I’ll fly a Citation II. His paying cargo’s four hundred pounds of a control panel. That leaves us room for me, you, hubkins, you, Wally, pilot and mechanic and one more. I’m thinking Mandy or Dana as a co-pilot.”

“You don’t think we should bring another rated pilot, Cindy?” Wally asked.

“All Don’s pilots are scheduled, and that cuts us out of ‘Citation-rated’. I just want company, so Dana or Mandy will work. Cessna-rated? Pick one. That’ll put us at gross for take-off with full fuel, but we can do non-stop to Williston with five of us.”

“Re-run your figures, Punkin,” Dan says. “It would be nice if each of us has a co-pilot for the trip back. That’s a lot of hours sittin’ in a little Cessna...”

“Yeah,” Wally said.

“Ah, the sounds of a mutiny,” I laughed. I punched numbers into an app on my iPad. “Okay, if everybody uses the restroom before we leave, we can be legal with six of us.”

“So, then,” Wally inserted. “When?”

“Looking at the national weather maps, looks like if we do it tomorrow, we’ll be ahead of a bunch of bad weather. I can do full IFR because I’ll be on top of it, but you guys...”

“Not in an old Cessna on a ferry permit,” Wally said. “Nothing like short notice, huh?”

I smiled. “We knew it was coming.”

Wally rubbed his chin. “So we’re flying across the country in a biz-jet crewed by the greater and lesser imps...”

“Don’t be mean, Uncle Wally,” I cooed. It’s fun. He picks, but deep down he’s settled in his respect for what I can do. I respect him, too. He’s been successful in a hardscrabble business, operating on a shoestring at times. Running into him was formative in the history of our community and 3Sigma.

A few details were hammered out, Wally reiterating his conversations with Art Prentace, the mechanic in North Dakota.

“Art says he ran ‘em up to full power, no bad indications. The compression test results actually came up. That’s not unusual. Those engines are better off being run.”

“And we’re just hoping that they’ll run for ten hours for us to get ‘em home,” my Dan said.

“That Continental’s a good engine,” Wally affirmed.

So the plan’s to take Lenya, MY Pilatus, to Birmingham first thing in the morning, leave ‘er there while we take a little ride in a Citation II.

A couple of phone calls nets me Dana for a copilot. Mandy’s quite the family girl of late. Her family – MY family – is now in their new house, complete with attached quarters for her grandma, and Mandy LIKES being home. Makes me happy. I can still steal her on occasion, though. She’s just seriously trying to catch up to her academic potential.

Dana, though... “Yeah, I can do it. I can get Terri and Rachel to take care of DC...” She paused. “Maybe not Terri. She’s pretty apt to stay within six feet of Jerry these days.”

“Then Rachel...”

“Uh, yeah ... the story, though...”

“Story?”

“About Rachel and Derek...”

“Yeah?”

“Cindy, they used MY place!”

“Did they feed the cat?”

“Yes, the cat was fed, but that wasn’t the only pussy attended to...”

“Dana!” I squeaked. “You never...”

“Well ... I found the towel...”

“Wondered how that all came out.”

“In a big, sticky glob, apparently.”

“You’re awfully evil for a tender teen...”

“You have to tell me more...”

“Ahhhhh, juicy gossip...”

“‘Juicy’ being the operative term...” I heard a male voice.

“The love of my life just walked in. Lemme go attend to him...”

“And vice versa...”

“I’M the evil one?!?”

“Yes.”

“0600 at the hangar?”

“You betcha. G’nite, sis.”

“‘Nite, sis,” she laughed.

Of course that means that for our overnight in North Dakota, we’ll have Dana in the room with us. Somehow Dan and I will survive. It just means that this evening ... Yeah, it’s STILL like that. The man brings me to the mountaintop and shows me the world at my feet, after YEARS of the two of us joining. Him?

“You’re wonderful for my cardiac health, sweetness,” he said afterward.

“As long as I’m not boring.”

“Never. What’s Johanna say? Virtuosity?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my symphony, Cindy Sue.”

The alarm went off at 0500. I’m not one of those ‘hour in the mirror, fixing my face’ girls. A big thermos full of coffee for the trip, two egg sandwiches for breakfast, and we’re at the airfield.

I meet Dana there, let her and Dan do the preflight while I recheck my IFR flight plan for Birmingham to Williston. Here to Birmingham? Eighty miles, VFR, less than half an hour.

Dan’s making the trip back by himself. We actually ran out of uncommitted pilots. Jerry? No, he’s on short leash to Terri. Susan, Tina, Nikki? All mommies. Stoney? He and his little family are taking the other Pilatus to Montana for the week.

“I’ve done this before, baby,” Dan said.

“I would do it with you...”

“You’re the only one who can make the Citation work.”

“I know ... but ... Dana?”

“No, let ‘er ride with you. We need to poke a few people...”

Five of us, loaded up, Lenya is flawless as we zip the eighty miles to Birmingham. We tied Lenya down, loaded our bags into the Citation, made last minute potty calls. I personally inspected the already-loaded cargo, a couple of small crates, kind of out of place in the normally plush interior of the Citation.

Enplaned, Dana stood and asked, “Anybody else wanna sit up front? I’ll move. I get the whole trip back. The ‘taker’ was Delmar Stephens, Wally’s other pilot.

“You’ve been in MY world. I get to play in yours,” he laughed, buckling in.

“Well, bud,” I said, “this thing’s a dinosaur compared to the one that got you here. Sit up front in the Pilatus sometime.”

“I need to do that. Wally keeps me busy, though.”

“Mean ol’ Wally,” I snickered, loud enough for Wally to hear.

We took off without incident. I’m not as confident of my skills in this thing. I try to get a few hours every few weeks to stay current. However, paying attention, knowing the machine, it’s just another airplane.

We worked our way through the air traffic control system, reached flight level three-ten, levelled off for the cruise. I set up the autopilot. Turned to Delmar. “And that’s that.”

“Cindy, you’re for real.”

“What’d you think? I was gonna go sit in the back and wait for a MAN to do this?”

“Go, Cindy!” came Dana’s voice over the intercom.

“Careful, Delmar,” came Wally’s voice. “I’ve seen ‘er do YOUR job.”

“Uncle Wally,” I said sweetly, “Did I tell you that Haley Simon in Louisiana got her private license?”

“Well, I know she’s at least seventeen,” he said.

“Watch out,” admonished Dan.

“Just barely,” I said. “Uh, thing is ... she went for her private test in a Stearman.”

Del and Wally both choked.

“I see an Air Tractor in her future, you know...”

Dan’s turn. “Cindy!”

“You’re putting ‘er up to it, redhead?” Wally asked.

“Nope. Don’t’ have to. Great minds think alike. You might be safe, though. Greg Bertrand’s down there. He has two Ag-Cats and an Air Tractor.”

“My old home field,” Dan said for Delmar’s benefit.

“Hanna Bertrand is a trophy-grade aerobatic pilot,” I added.

“I’d be worried more about that,” Delmar opined.

“Nah, piece ‘a cake,” I said. “She flies an Extra. It’s built for that game. Kinda like my Stearman.”

“You’ve been upside down in that thing?” Delmar asked.

“She didn’t get it home the day we picked it up,” Dan inserted.

Four hundred knots cruise. Destination was two and a half hours away. We put ‘er on the ground two minutes earlier than my calculated numbers. There was a truck waiting on the shipment, which was the whole idea of the flight.

While the cargo was being removed, it was a mad dash for restroom calls, then an almost laughable (if you weren’t paying for fuel) forty mile hop over to Sidney, Montana. Before we took off, Dan called to verify reservations at the hotel and the delivery of a full-sized SUV to meet us at the airfield.

Then it was load up and go for the short hop. No sense in climbing too high. I went to eight thousand five hundred feet, nailed the airspeed at 250 knots indicated, and just swallowed at the fuel flow numbers.

Dan sat as co-pilot. He could do this, no doubt, but he’s got too many irons in the fire to spend time like I do, playing pilot. Yes, I recognize that I’m spoilt.

‘Spoilt’ executed a bumpless landing at Sidney, Montana on runway one-niner. I was proud of that one. Yeah, ‘safe’ landings are routine, but there’s usually a little bump. The only thing we got out of this one was a sudden rumble and deceleration. Dan smiled.

“I saw that one, darlin’. Very good.”

“Thank you.”

When we taxied to a resting spot at the FBO, our two Cessna 185s were tied down there, waiting for us. Also waiting was the mechanic, Art Prentace.

Wally shook his hand. “Good to put a face to voice, brother.”

“It is, man. You know how to travel in style, is all I can say,” Art said, eying the Citation jet.

“Lemme show you our pilot,” Wally said. “Cindy, this is Art.”

I guess Wally forgot that I’d already met Art face to face. Not a problem. Art’s a nice guy.

Art grinned. “Hey Cindy. Still doin’ it, yeah?”

“Yessir, Mister Art.”

“You two’ve already met?”

“Yeah, first time around,” I said.