Chapter 15

I made a sorta deal with Daddy. He would smuggle my purchases home and stash them in the attic of the new house at the farm. In return, he could keep using the Cessna ... The Cessna, not MY Cessna ... not Grace's Cessna ... nor yet HIS Cessna ... The Family Cessna. Somehow, just as MY spending money became Charlie's spending money ... the family gained a reasonably expensive aircraft.

I bought it in annual but a couple of years from the Major Systems Rebuild. New, it cost twelve thousand dollars. I paid less. But if I had bought it new in 1998 it would cost ... lessee ... carry the six ... times 29 ... minus? and divided by 12. One hundred seven thousand ... if I could buy it new. They don't make them like that anymore. What they do make is three hundred thousand and slower. Of course it's FAA compliant ... today ... not saying about tomorrow.

It seems that the legislature is hired to legislate. They do ... so people who were law-abiding citizens yesterday are criminals today ... they're not doing anything different ... the police are.

Daddy's landing was ... bumpy ... and that's being polite. Charlie Arthur stepped out of his office hangar and asked to see my license. I pointed at daddy.

"Talk to him ... he's the pogo stick operator."

"You were left-seat."

"He's my dad."

Charlie turned to daddy and held out his hand. Daddy sighed and handed over his license.

"I get it."

Charlie went back to his hangar and picked up his parachute.

"Mr. Austin ... time for some touch and goes. You don't have to do this ... but I will have to report your sloppy landing to the FAA. You were putting your child in danger."

I spoke up ... well ... cleared my throat, "It's my plane, Mr. Arthur ... at least I'm the one that bought it. I don't get to use it. I have a great many more hours but I only have a student license. He was right seat but I insisted he land."

"Who was your instructor?" He was asking me.

"Ben Frankl..."

"I know Ben ... How about you, Mr. Austin?"

"Ben..." Daddy hung his head. "I do fine on concrete."

"Do your pre-flight check."

Daddy started walking and shaking things. The list was in the door pocket. When Dad got back around, Charlie had the list in his hand.

"This isn't the first time I've watched you land ... usually I'm at home when you come in. I've never been here when you left. You're a lawyer?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure I wouldn't want you representing me."

Daddy started to blow up ... Charlie held up his hand ... the list was in it. Daddy sputtered to a halt. He hung his head ... grabbed the list and started over.

While daddy was checking tail feathers and flaps and sticking the tanks, Mr. Arthur quizzed me. Home, school, where I got my money, was I related to the fidgety fat kid or the really pretty girl on the big boat? When did I start my lessons with Ben ... the exact date ... not the month ... and was I aware of the big rule change coming for Private pilots?

"Saint Johns."

"Michigan State."

"None of your business."

"Younger brother."

"Twin sister ... it's my boat."

"Call Ben ... he knows."

"What rule change?" I got this panicked look, "I'm fucked!" I blurted.

When Daddy got done ... the oil tank needed filling and the fuel was low. The logbook hours didn't match the meter and one tire was low. The main fault was the loose nut on the prop.

"Mr. Arthur? Could I trouble you for a one inch wrench ... and a torque wrench?" He heaved a big sigh. "I wouldn't want me representing me either. The worst part? I'm paying an Army Radial Engine Specialist to maintain this bird ... and it doesn't look like he's doing it."

"Mr. Austin ... when you took the written ... what was the last line on Ben's test?"

"'Be sure it is right. You can not fix it at 18 thousand feet.' ... Hell, you can't fix it at three hundred."

Mr. Arthur smiled, "You need oil, fuel, a jack and a wrench."

"Jack?"

"Yup, you need to find out why that tire is low. Tools are on the bench in the hangar. David, come with me."

We walked over to the bushes off to the side of the runway.

"Help me," He picked up the first bush ... it was in a five gallon of well watered dirt. He set it off to the side. When he did that I could see that the dirt was painted asphalt

When you looked ... you could see the bushes in the buckets. I started picking up buckets and moving them. The last bucket was in front of the best camouflaged hangar I'd ever seen. Mr. Arthur saw my look.

"You never know."

"No, sir ... you never do. The Russians could come flying in from the pole and bomb us to splinters. The politicians are doing their absolute best to make sure we can't defend ourselves."

"I like you, youngster ... you're old in your mind."

'If he only knew, ' I thought... "The blood of patriots is the price of freedom. It must be constantly renewed," I said.

The next war would be the last ... both sides had nukes ... the Russians had hydrogen, 'Thermonuclear' they called it. Properly placed and detonated, California would fall into the sea. Properly armed, the Mexicans would invade from the south ... they hate us.

"Eternal Vigilance. Due Diligence. An abiding Hatred of those who would see us destroyed. Yet our congress insists on giving them money. The next thing you know ... industry will leave ... the mines close and the fisheries will be legislated out of American waters." Charlie was wound up.