Rendezvous II
Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 23
Hairy
Good lord, back in class again. Although I’d never stopped learning now I was getting educated.
There is a difference.
Learning usually happens because I survived. Survival is generally accompanied by sweat, blood and tears ... sometimes feces and urine feature prominently.
“I Told you so,” is frequently heard.
I hate that part.
Educated has instructors and books. Books seldom cause blood ... except a paper cut or two. I never was very good at math and flying has math. At least the devil isn’t in it ... no numbers AND alphabet.
Just numbers is bad enough.
Instructors ... that’s a horse of a different color. Instructors have been known to exact a measure of pain ... not blood. Sweat and tears ... yes.
A certain period of Ground School while the A&P mechanic inspected an already perfect aircraft was required. I needed to know terms.
“Okay,” said my instructor, a fresh faced young lady still in her teens. Amy said. “Lets get in the aircraft.” Thumping my chest with a sharp pencil, she said, “Left seat.” Later, when I took my shower, I checked my chest after ... there were red dots.
I didn’t get Ted ... Ted is window dressing. Ted is there to impress the fish.
When I bought the 150 I’d never seen a Cessna. I’d looked at a Cub, a Taylorcraft, an Aeronica, a Commander, even a Texan, but I bought the 150 sight unseen. It was cheap. So ... I had no idea what I was getting into when I unlocked the doors. Right away I knew that entry precluded modesty. It’s a step. Standing on the tire means a stretch. No celebrating my Scots Irish ancestry. I swung into the cabin. I was immediately bewildered.
My introduction to my Cessna cockpit.
Airspeed, Artificial Horizon, Clock, Altimeter, Direction Finder, Turn and Bank indicator, Direction Indicator. Vertical Speed. Radios, Engine Speed. Carb heat, Throttle, Fuel Mixture, Flaps.
Directly in front of the seat was a device called a Yoke. A cut down and squared-off wheel, it was a push-pull, left-right control. Amy mounted into the cabin from the right hand door, a similar Yoke in front of her seat.
NOT the stick of the Cub. What with the mass of instruments in the Cessna, I knew I was going to miss the simplicity of the Cub.
Rats ... bought the wrong thing ... again.
We buckled up.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.