Chapter 27

Hairy

Amy woke up and glanced around, the sun was behind the mountains. Denver is unusual. The mountains do block the sun but the evening is very long. She slowly realized that I had let her asleep for hours.

“You are a natural. Where did we go?”

I reached in the door pocket and took out the chart. I realize it’s a map, but pilots call maps charts. I showed her the pencil lines and the airfields I did touch and goes ... and I do mean touch. A bare skim and outta there.

“Fourteen? You landed 14 times?”

“No ... I landed once ... over here ... for fuel.”

“But...” her eyes got big. “That’s in Kansas.”

“I paid cash ... no paper trail.” Then I took out my wallet and checked the cockpit engine hours. “Nine at Fifty.” I counted out four hundred fifty dollars and handed it to her.

“Nine fucking hours?” she said. “God! I slept like a baby.”

She was looking at the chart ... and grabbed my logbook.

“Lamar, Arlington, Rocky Ford, La Junta, Las Animas? Walter Ranch!”

“Grass strip ... same as KX...” I grinned.

And that was the end of my lessons. From then on I drove ... she rode ... so to speak. She slept a lot. I didn’t fly out of state again ... but I did fly over to Animas Air Park and treated her to the narrow gauge tourist train to Silverton and a steak at Kendall. I got my shirt tail cut at the legal 20th hour solo. The next fifteen was trips, some under the hood ... she stayed awake for that ... you betcha!

Right at 40 I met the examiner.

“Drive me around,” he said.

I handed him the check list.

We did the list outside and in.

I fired up and away we went.

The examiner shut off the engine ... just like they all do ... but she wouldn’t start when he turned her back on.

That was just the beginning of a bad day. The battery went to zero ... no radio, no lights, no nothing. In this condition we couldn’t call in.

“Behind me there’s a duffle.” I said, “Would you get it for me?”

He fetched it.

“Your aircraft.”

“I got it.”

I had a battery powered handheld in the bag.

“I hope this damn thing works.”

I turned it on and pushed the button.

“Emergency!”

The little handheld crackled and cleared up.

“Lamar Tower. State your emergency.”

“Cessna NCXXX on PP evaluation. Altitude is 7500 feet, one hour fuel, clear, visibility 15. Not IFR. I have my FAA examiner on board. I have zero ... repeat ... zero electronics Nothing works. Last heading was west south west. Gliding. Mountains to west. Cessna NCXXX is base white with red trim. I have a battery powered handheld with unknown battery life. Departed Front Range on license flight. Examiner shut down engine ... no restart.

“Lamar Tower. Intentions?”

“If I can find a golf course ... wait one.”

I asked the examiner, “Is that a beacon I see to the southwest?”

He squinted. “Yes.”

“Lamar ... I think I have your beacon, can you shut it off and turn it back on?

“Will do.”

“Got it. Lamar. Headed your way.”

“My airplane.”

“Your aircraft.”

“Lamar, crossing a wrecking yard and oval race track.”

“We have you in sight. Runway 26/8 is cleared. Come on down.”

I landed and rolled as far as I could. A jeep with a Cessna tow bar got us the rest of the way.

A mechanic met us on the tarmac. He undid the cowl and fiddled.

“Try it now. Switch off.”

“Switch off.”

She turned over smartly.

“What?”

“Ground strap.”

“Can you replace it ... and the battery?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do it, please.”

Whoa! Airplane batteries are spendy. I got better cables too. I don’t need another experience.

I paid and tipped the controller. He kept me calm.

Fuel ... full tanks. Handshakes all around. Away we went.

I looked at the examiner.

“Front Range,” he said. “You flew excellently. I’m pleased to sign your logbook.”

We landed at Alliance. He stood around and chatted with Ted. Shook my hand and refused payment for his time.

“One day ... I’m going to have one less landing than takeoff. But not today.”