Chapter 56

It’s nice having ones 0wn airfield. Even if that airfield is between two airports.

Airfield: unorganized mayhem. It’s your fault. Usually grass. Rubber-neck like mad taking off or landing. If you have a radio, sing out where you are and your intentions. The AD had great radios ... the Fokker DR-1’s? Not so much. I had a channel 16 only handheld and a ‘walkie-talkie’ that had the range of a mouse. Pretty good over short distances and awfully slow and weak in the long haul.

If you’ve ever seen a movie of a fighter scramble you know there are aircraft taking off in clumps and bunches. Landing is generally one at a time. But not always.

Land where you fit. There MAY be a guy with a fire bottle and a jeep.

Airport: Alles in Ordnung. Everything is exact and orderly. Prevailing winds. Concrete runways ... don’t stray. Multiple emergency vehicles. Resident fire crew. They practice using a scrap airframe.

We are polite about it ... call Bergstrom and tell them what we want to do.

Executive is too far to worry about.

Bud is usually noisy ... we know when he could be in the way.

Once the local gendarmerie is onboard ultralites seldom exceel fifteen hundred feet. Our shenanigans bring in tourist trade. Food trucks and sellers of teeshirts. Out of state dollars.

Regular aircraft follow the written rules.

The Yellow Peril is regular. Query the airport ... get permission ... stick to it.

“Bergstrom ... Naval Aircraft Factory N3N seeking permission to aviate.”

“N3N, Bergstrom. Remain below 1100 feet until clear.”

“Berg ... N3N roger.”

“N3N ... Berg. Stop by sometime for a looksee. Berg out.”

“Berg ... N3 out.”

That is not what was said ... but it is what was meant.

Twenty-four minutes later.

“Bergstrom ... Naval Aircraft Factory N3N.”

“N3N ... Berg.”

“Permission to land soonest ... your field.”

“In the queue N3. You follow the Air France Airbus.”

We were soaking wet. In the tower after landing in torrential rain...

“Ya’ll could have told me ... I’d have stayed home.”

“Selene ... you’re supposed to check the weather before you fly.”

“Weatherman ... the only job where being wrong is an asset.”

The whole tower cracked up.

“I wasn’t being funny,” I complained.

That set them off again.

Yes ... the whole of Bergstrom knows me.

I have parked my aircraft at the base entrance like a gate guard.

I have answered questions and given ‘wheels’ flights.

There is more than one vet that has flown a circuit during airshows.

Having that huge canopy makes my Sandy look like the biggest single engined piston driven fighter ever built.

Yeah ... they know me.