Destination--Nashville

After returning from the trip, exhausted…I landed on my bed with my compass still spinning as I replayed the events of the past few days in by head. Giving out a little sigh I could feel the muscles in my face pulling the corners of my mouth up, up into a smile that seemed to warm my entire being.

It all started with a phone call requesting me to “sign-off” a pilot who had purchased an aircraft but not rated to fly it…or take the airplane to him. Remembering how hard it was for me to learn the pitfalls and inherent instability of the conventional geared early aircraft designs, not to mention actually learning to handle a “tail dragger”, I opted to take this vintage aircraft to the buyer. After making the commitment I realized that I had never seen this plane or even knew what it was exactly. So a trip to the airport brought me face to face with the 1946 Taylorcraft, model BC12D,(D for Deluxe), sporting a 65 hp Continental engine which had to be “hand propped” to start. Electric start was not even an option back then.

I hurriedly planned and prepared for the trip; packed my flight bag and set my alarm for 4:00am. Hurrying to the airport I readied the plane and pulled the prop through until it came to life. I crawled in the cockpit and waved good-by.

As I pushed the throttle forward…I thought “is this how Charles Lindberg felt as he started on his epic journey across the Atlantic”? A touch of anxiety, a dab of excitement and the nagging questions, “should I be doing this?” I’ve never flown this make or model before. Can I do this? What really works and what does not? Can I land this thing?

As I lifted off my worries and anxiety melted away. The little aircraft climbed into the cool early morning air. I pointed the nose toward the emerging sunlight under a high overcast and light rain. The little engine purred as the cloth covered air frame responded effortlessly to the flight controls. As I crossed the fields and pastures, the lake and streams at tree top level, reading the names of small towns inscribed on water towers… I thought, “This is what flying is really about”. All that flying high and fast is just getting somewhere…. THIS is flying. As I dreamed of a by-gone era I noticed below the trucks passing me as I followed I-10 east bound. The reality of how long this trip was going to take set in. I estimated my arrival time using current ground speed…the answer seemed to be which day, not which hour, I would arrive in Nashville. I must have been pushing a ferocious head wind; maybe 10 mph…subtract that from my minuscule air speed…that explained why the trucks were winning the race. As I winged my way northeast making frequent landings for fuel, I gained confidence in the little plane and in my ability to handle it. As the day went on the head wind subsided and later even became a tail wind. Excited by the possibility that I might make my destination before dark I pushed on. Without a radio I had to avoid all controlled airspace. Stopping one last time for fuel I landed in a direct crosswind at a small uncontrolled airport and topped off. This bolstered my confidence and strengthened my resolve to continue. Finally in the last hours of daylight I landed at my destination: Tullahoma, Tennessee—a small airport south of Nashville. Met by the local welcoming committee, friends of the new owner who were aware of the plane’s pending arrival, I was made to feel at home and was advised the new owner was on the way.

Turns out the new owner was a famous Nashville musician… of course me being musically impaired I had no idea who he was. I seldom listen to the radio, and own no tape or CD and never read the newspaper…. wait a minute I do have an old 78 rpm record with Perry Como singing Christmas music. But my record player is broken and I can’t find anyone to fix it.

Anyway, Paul and his gracious wife arrived and welcomed me with open arms and excitement. After looking over the aircraft and putting it away we sojourned to their friend’s lake house for Bar-B-Q and more flying stories. Then we retired to their lake house where I was put up in a wonderful private guest room for the night.

At daylight the next morning we arrived back at the airport for training in the “tail wheel”. As I explained the inherent dangers of the conventional landing gear we went though the dos and don’ts of starting the engine. All was going well until we tried to make a 360 to clear the area. Paul became acutely aware of the difficulty involved in taxiing the airplane: the tiny heel brake pedals that operate the ineffective main gear brakes and the unforgiving cross wind canceling all efforts of the pilot to steer. As frustration mounted it became questionable whether or not we could accomplish our goal of “conquering the beast” in one day. Taxiing back to the ramp we discussed all the forces acting on the airplane and the fact that the learning curve starts out pretty flat. After several more attempts we gradually began to improve our skills and confidence returned. After a lunch eaten over a sectional map and a discussion of air space and FAR’s we returned and started making high speed taxies down the runway until by some magic or miracle we found ourselves in the air. There are only three rules to remember when flying a “tail wheel”.

1. Keep the nose straight down the runway.
2. Keep the nose straight down the runway.
3. Keep the nose straight down the runway.

After an entire afternoon was spent practicing take-offs and landings, I got out of the aircraft. I wished Paul the best and said, “If you can get back alive I will sign-off your tail wheel endorsement.” After a picture perfect solo take off and landing he came back with a Cheshire cat grin that told me that we had accomplished our mission.

The next morning I was on a commercial flight home. The first leg from Nashville to DFW was uneventful but the flight from DFW to AUS was amusing. As we sat at the gate waiting for a “push back” the captain came on and announced that “we could not continue because the toilets would not flush”. I thought why would that matter…the flight is only 35 minutes. Surely I could hold it that long. I could not help but wonder what law of aerodynamics we would violate that would render the aircraft completely un-airworthy, causing it to fall from the sky just because the toilets would not flush. After sitting there an hour, drinking my 44 oz diet Pepsi I become keenly aware of the reason why the toilet had to flush.

What an adventure! What incredible new friends! What an incredible blessing to get to do what is so much fun and get paid for it. I can’t help but think that I am blessed beyond belief and don’t even deserve it. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for ALL you have done for me. Please, Lord, help me remember to share my blessing with others and to always point others toward You. Amen


5/20/2008