Chapter 3

Don Matzke’s turn:

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “If it looks stupid, but it works, then it ain’t stupid.”

Yeah, well, there are some corollaries. The first is, “If it looks stupid and it doesn’t work, then it’s REALLY stupid.” The second is, “If it looks smart and it doesn’t work, then it’s STILL stupid.” A third is a Forrest Gump quote: “Stupid is as stupid does.”

Dunno if the second or the third applies to me -- maybe both. My first “stupid” moment was getting hooked up with a sorority girl in college. A walking erection-machine, and you’ve probably seen a bunch of ‘em. That was me. It’s partly their knock-out bodies, but also the facial expressions. That was Maria, and she had me from “Hey, guy, wanna dance?”

The second “stupid” moment was when she wanted to marry me. “We could be SOOO good for each other, don’t you think?” We struggled for years – well, I struggled – before she had ditched me for an old boyfriend. Dunno if he had a bigger dick, but he evidently had a bigger wallet, which was what she actually wanted.

Sorry to reminisce about this kind of thing, but my memories are jarred by looking out the window at Wally’s “bird-bath” crew. Four sorority girls, power-washing and waxing two old Cessna 185s, belonging to Cindy. Don’t ask.

Yeah, Cindy. She got ‘em for next-to-junk prices, and Wally has ‘em over here refurbishing them. They’re actually looking very nice -- she could probably sell ‘em for three times what she paid for ‘em, but she’s going to put ‘em to work, and probably going to make even MORE money with ‘em. We should make her change her name to “Midas” -- everything she touches turns to gold, somehow.

Anyway, part of Wally’s deal with these kids is pizza-for-lunch, and the pizzas just got delivered, so I step outside and putting two fingers in my mouth, I whistled. Got their attention and hollered, “Pizza’s here!”

SQUEALS! times four. And a mad rush to the ladies’ room to wash hands, and then four cuties gathered in the conference room, splitting up pizzas, eating, talking, giggling, all that. Sun-tanned, wet T-shirts, cuties. Memories flooding back.

After a while, I noted that the noise was abating, so I stepped back in to hand out more soft drinks and clean up the conference room, some. They started heading back outside, but the cutest of the bunch stayed back for a moment, looking at me. She said, “Mister Don, we never asked: whose planes are those -- the ones we’re washing and waxing?”

I said, “Teresa, isn’t it?” She nodded, so I continued, “Those birds are the latest purchases by the lady who’s one of the majority owners of this outfit. Her name is Cindy Richards.”

Ear-splitting “SQUEAL! REALLY? MY Cindy? DOCTOR Cindy?”

“Uh, yes,” I answered. “But what do you mean, girl?”

She said, “I’ve known her since she was in middle school! My Dad was her counselor. Mister Don, if you didn’t know, she’s probably the smartest girl, actually the smartest PERSON in the world!”

That would be the same Cindy. The universe isn’t big enough for two of ‘em.

Then, “Was it one of YOUR Citations she landed? Can we see it? Can I touch it?”

“Look, right now, you’re working for Wally, so you need to get back to it. But, after work, come and see me, and I’ll take you out to it, and give you a tour, if you’re interested.”

Another “Squeal!” a bit more muted this time, and she bounced over and kissed my cheek. Then, “Thank you, Mister Don!” Then, “Oops. I apologize.” And she bounced out the door.

Dear Lord. This is trouble. Well, whatever. We’ll see what happens -- probably nothing.

Yup, you guessed it. They knocked off at 4:30, having finished the job, and from what I can see, it looks pretty good. Three of them headed for their cars, and you’ll never guess who knocked on the frame of my open office door.

“Mister Don,” she said, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you have time? I’d sure like to see Cindy’s Citation!”

Like a fool, I said, “OK, Teresa. Let’s step out to the hangar.” We walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the hangar -- Wally gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged my shoulders. But, arriving at the CJ2, another “Squeal!” and she caressed its nose, then the side. She turned to me, and asked, “Mister Don, could we...”

I said, “Sure, Teresa. Here, let me show you.” I pulled the latch and opened the door. I pulled the (short) “stair” down and said, “OK, darlin’, step up -- not very fancy, but it’s a good bird.”

She took a short look down the passenger area, then turned to the cockpit. She looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. I (of course) said, “Take a seat on the left side, and I’ll light up the panel for you.” She climbed into the seat, and I flipped the switches to power up the panel.

She watched as the panel came to life, and said, “Wow! And she actually knows how to fly this? I don’t know if I could ever learn! Lord, I would LOVE to do this, some day!”

“Well, you don’t actually learn in this bird, unless you’re Cindy. Her second flight, she landed this thing and made the news. In HER case, it took about 15 minutes, I think. But for the rest of us, we start in smaller planes, and work our way up. In my case, it was the Air Force, and I wound up in A-10 Warthogs. I actually flew right seat in some airline 737s for a while, before I decided that charter work might make more sense.”

She asked, “But Mister Don, how is it that she was even ON this airplane?”

I said, “Teresa, I don’t know the whole story, but as I understand it, she happened to run into Geno Haugen down in Mobile, while they were both down there with their birds for avionics inspections. Somehow, he invited her to ride right-seat with him on a charter, so she was just learning. But she was already multi-engine and instrument-rated, so the big differences were the glass cockpit, and the turbine engines.”

She asked, “Umm. What’s a glass cockpit?”

I said, “It’s what you’re looking at. Electronics taking the place of the old round gauges that we all grew up with.”

“Like the ones in the planes we’ve been washing, right?” She continued, “But you said this was all new to her. How did she do it?”

I said, “How? The simple answer is, “Because she’s Cindy.” More to the point, she recognized that the electronics do the same job as the old round gauges, and to her, the operation was obvious. Further, she knew that flying is flying, so this was just a minor alteration to what she already knew.”

I continued, “She’s flown this bird several times since -- cargo flights, since she’s too young to transport paying passengers. And she’s easily the best pilot on the roster. I don’t pretend to understand -- something clicks in her head, and she can do it better than any of us.”

She said, “Sir, you said “Us.” Are you still flying?”

I said, “Yes ma’am, and my next flight is Sunday morning, down to Miami and back, to pick up a load of lawyers. Interested?”

“SQUEAL!” was the response. Then, “I’ll have to check my work schedule, but if I’m not needed, I’d be delighted!”

I said, “OK, but we’ll need to get you a company polo shirt, and do you have khaki trousers? Understand, this is a charter flight, which means you have to be either an employee or a paying passenger.”

She said, “Got the trousers, sir, but I can’t try on the shirt now -- too dirty and sweaty. I’ll have to go home and shower first, and then it’ll be time for dinner.”

I said, “Why don’t we do it this way: You go home and shower, and check your work schedule. Then come back here, try on the shirt, and we’ll go have dinner somewhere.”

She grimaced a little, and said, “Sir, I can’t afford to go out for dinner. I don’t have that kind of money, unless it’s something cheap. Maybe a burger?”

“Look, it’ll be my treat, and we’ll keep it simple. Nothing fancy, OK?” I can tell myself that I’m helping out a fledgling future aviator. It helps that she’s cute, young, blonde and knows Cindy. On the other hand, her relationship with Cindy will likely keep me from the other side of the equation – “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

She nodded, we shut down the panel and the master switch, then exited the bird. She retrieved her backpack, and headed out to her old Nissan Sentra.

I waved, then stepped back into the hangar to close up the CJ2. Wally walked over, wiping his hands on a shop towel, and said, “Don, I don’t know what’s going on with that kid, but I can tell you she’s a hell of a worker, and she’s not scared of getting dirty and sweaty. Pretty rare for a college girl, I’d say.”

“Yup, I think so, too. She may be riding right seat with me, Sunday morning.”

“Don,” Wally grinned and said, “I hope she’s not a trouble-maker, but seeing her work, I don’t think so. While I’m thinking about it, I wonder if she’d like a more regular job around here? We could use some help, keeping these birds a little cleaner on the inside, and maybe some routine maintenance.”

I said, “I’ll ask -- I’m taking her out to dinner in about an hour or so. But she’ll be working for YOU, so be sure your people treat her nice, OK?”

Wally raised an eyebrow, and said, “Don, I don’t get into people’s personal stuff, but you be careful around her. I’ve seen her over at Auburn with Cindy’s bunch a couple of times, and...”

I held up both hands and nodded. We both grinned and he said, “Be REAL careful, Don. Her Dad’s a Marine, I happen to know.”