Chapter 32

Sandy’s turn:

I can’t help thinking that I’m seeing something, but maybe not. I know about Dave and Carlita and Brindy. Three people. One house.

And my friends Deena and Haley and Bill. Three people, one house, although Deena’s supposed to be Bill’s daughter, but sometimes when I’m talking to Deena and Haley, there’s just a flash of ‘these two are related’ in the back of my perception.

And I notice that Deena’s of the age where she should be showing at least a passing interest in boys. I mean, at that picnic at the airfield when Cindy brought the Stearman home – Matthew Saucier, her age ... the boy was practically drooling over her and she didn’t show the slightest interest. Not even a flicker. So I’m wondering what’s up.

But I’m NOT rocking the boat. The synergy between us girls is extraordinary, almost magical.

Doesn’t matter what the class might be or who has a question or is hitting an obstacle – you put several of us in a room, things get fixed.

Nope. NOT rocking the boat. Not me.

I AM rocking something else, though ... I’ve been assimilated. First REAL ‘put it in the logbook’ flying lesson was Monday after the wedding.

Appetite whetted, you know. Saw Haley flying in and out of here in the little Cessna that’s MY first lesson. Sat beside Cindy when we finished up the trip back from Terri’s wedding.

“This thing will spoil you,” Cindy warned. “It’s big, comparatively speaking, and it’s higher wing loading, so it won’t bounce around in the turbulence like the littler planes will. You’ll see.”

I saw. The instructor got me off the ground, headed us south to the practice area, and then started.

I seldom break sweat over academics but I broke a sweat over this.

Matt tried to soothe me. “Sandy, relax a bit. Fly the plane. Nose on the horizon. We’re climbing, okay?”

“Am I doing it right?”

“Glance down at your airspeed. Seventy knots is a good climb speed, but right now you’re not going to be flying that needle. Look at the nose in relation to the horizon. Feel the resistance of the controls...”

So I learned about turns needing to be coordinated, inputs from the rudder, the ailerons, the elevator ... Miss any one of them, and you either lose or gain altitude, or you get the feeling that you’re flying sideways.

I understand the theory. Making my hands and feet and senses get this little airplane to do it ... I’m sweating.

An hour’s enough.

I guess my expression was a bit of a giveaway.

“Was it too much?” Matt asked.

“No, just different. I guess I’m one of those spoiled girls – I’m used to being capable ... I didn’t feel capable.”

“You did super for your first lesson.”

“They make it look easy,” I said.

“The more you do it, the easier it gets. Some of it’s making it reflexive – getting conscious thought out of it. When you walk, you don’t break each movement down – pick up the right foot, move it forward, lower it ... You’ll do that with flying, with a bit of practice.” He smiled. “Of course, it’s not mandatory. If you don’t want the challenge...”

I smiled back. “I sorta have to. I see the smile on Haley’s face...”

“Yeah, Haley Simon. Keeps threatening to show up for a lesson in that Stearman...”

Haley’s turn:

Cindy said we needed to start it and run it once a week, so today I and Deena hooked up the towbar we’d had built to the main gear of the Stearman and pulled her out into the sunshine.

We got the cockpit covers off, then checked to make sure that the magnetos were off, the throttle all the way back to the stop, and mixture at full lean. And chock blocks in front of the landing gear.

It takes two of us to pull the prop through two complete revolutions. That’s to make sure that there’s not a puddle of oil in one of the cylinders, waiting to bend a connecting rod.

The internals of that big engine are interesting – an approach to a problem that was solved in the first quarter of the twentieth century. Has its weaknesses though, easily contemplated when Deena and I are pulling on the propeller.

Finally, THAT task is finished and I climb into the cockpit – the rear cockpit, because when you fly this thing solo (something I’m premeditating soon) you do it from the back seat. There’s even a placard in the front seat saying this.

So okay, mixture stays lean, magnetos off, hit the starter (it’s a key, but only for the starter) and watch the prop swing, then stop. This time, mixture rich, throttle cracked, mags on, primer gets a couple of shots because airplanes don’t have chokes like carburetors on cars used to have. Blades turn, one revolution, two, a cough, three coughs, a little blue cloud and it’s running.

I watch the oil pressure. Yep, it’s coming up. Hits the green arc for pressure. I hold my fists in front of my face, thumbs pointed outward and make a motion for my ground crew – that’s all hundred pounds of Deena – to pull the chocks.

Wouldn’t be a big deal if there were two ground crew, but there’s just her, so it takes a bit, and at the end she climbs up into the front seat.

We’re taxiing. That’s ALL. The old girl needs a little exercise, and taxiing to the far end of the runway and back is good for her.

And me. I heard that you can’t see forward, and that’s right, so big loopy S-turns. And taxi. Speed’s a little faster than a walk. Like an easy jog. At the end of the runway, I braked, held a wheel, tossed a little blast of throttle in to spin around and head back.

We pushed the old thing back into her hangar, listening to the popping and crackling of cooling metal, smelling the smells of history, then we went into the office.

Maddie was smirking. “I see you did that when your hubs wasn’t here.”

“Oh, sometimes he gets sooooo cautious,” Deena said.

“Well, in YOUR case, Deena, you’re his precious daughter.”

“And I’m his wife,” I laughed. “And he’s just a little TOO protective, sometimes.”

We chatted with Maddie for a bit then went back into the area we reserved for our lab. We’re learning coding on our robotic hand.

I stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Deena asked.

“I gotta call Cindy.”

“Why?”

“I am NOT satisfied with running the Stearman up and down the runway.”

“I wondered what you were thinking,” Deena said. “I know you when you set your mind to something. Call ‘er.”

I did.

“Hey, Haley!”

“Hi, Cin,” I returned. “Just wanted to tell you that I cranked up the Stearman this morning.”

“Good,” she answered. “Doesn’t do it any favors not running it.”

“I taxied it up and down the runway, just to get a bit of taxi practice.”

“Different than tricycle gear, ain’t it?”

“Oh, yeah ... and that NOSE. You gotta zig-zag like crazy...”

“Just take it slow at first. Get used to it. And don’t try working close to other things yet. Baby steps.”

“Speaking of baby steps...”

“She gasped. “You’re not...”

“Pregnant? No way. Bill’s fixed.” I giggled. “Deena’s enough...”

“Enough what?” Deena squeaked, hearing only one side of the conversation.

“Enough sunshine for our lives,” I retorted. Cindy giggled in my ear.

“Stop talkin’ about ‘er,” I said. “Putting you on speaker.”

“Okay. Hi, Deena.”

“Hi, Cindy. You need to scold my evil step-mother...”

“Haley, treat your step-daughter with kindness,” Cindy tittered.

Deena stuck her tongue at me. “Bleahhh!”

“So what else is up?” Cindy queried.

“I wanna get a Stearman checkout. She needs to FLY!”

“I agree. I’m supposed to pick up mine Friday., but there’s all manner of aviation things afoot. Might’ve found y’all a plane.”

Deena and I BOTH squealed. “What kind?” I asked.

“Cessna 185. Needs work. Found two of ‘em. Working on logistics now.”

She related the story.

“Well that settles it,” I said. “185’s a tail-dragger. Me ‘n’ Bill BOTH need tail-dragger endorsements.”

“Your place or mine?” Cindy said with an audible snicker.

“We get a choice?”

“Yeah ... If it’s here, I can intersperse your training with other activities. If it’s there, well, I can still do that stuff, most of it anyway, on line or whatever...”

“It’d be a whole lot easier if you came here. Uh, can you do a week without Dan?”

“I can’t stand two nights, sis. No, that’s my biggest hurdle to coming there – Dan’s workload. I have Nikki backing me up with the Munchkins...”

“But Terri’s gone...”

Giggle. “I doubt Terri’s worried about robotics right now...”

“I wouldn’t be,” I said. “Nikki’s ... I mean, new baby...”

“Oh, she brings ‘im to work.”

“Odd...”

“Not odd. She’s breast-feeding.”

“At work?”

“Yeah,” Cindy said. “All our new mommies breast-feed. Nikki’s got an office. It’s not like she flops a tittie out in the lab...”

“It’s a natural function,” Deena said. “Shouldn’t be that big of a deal...”

“Maybe so,” Cindy said, “but part of being civilized is attending to the sensitivities of others. besides, Nikki’s kind of bashful about exposing herself, so it’s all good.”

“So she can pick up the slack while...”

“Terri and Jerry will be back next week,” Cindy said. “Jerry and Vivek can fill in where Nikki might be. And of course, if it’s a business face, Aaron’s the CEO...”

“Yeah,” I returned. “That’s right. Tara’s hubby. So you think that next week...”

“I think we can work something in the next couple of weeks.”

“What’re you gonna fly here?”