Tour of Beauties

Howdy. I’m still in Rochester, Minnesota. I’m supposed to be ferrying to Jackson, Michigan today, but there is a possibility of embedded thunderstorms between here and Chicago, so I’m just sort of hanging out and keeping an eye on things. Getting ready to have lunch here at “Mr. Pizza.” I’m not really hungry, but I was feeling inexplicably grumpy. Food sometimes helps with that. The parking lot was full, so I figured it couldn’t be too bad.

An owl hooted me to sleep last night and I woke up this morning to a blue jay’s screech. The air felt like rain, so I got up and started breaking camp. Just as I finished packing up my tent, the sky opened up and poured cold rain.

Mother Nature is my subservient concubine.

So the other day, after my precautionary landing, I walked into the maintenance hangar and was greeted by an absolutely magnificent Beech Staggerwing. An old Beech 18 and music from the big band era added to the remarkable atmosphere in the hangar. What a great surprise!

As I entered the office, the whole crew was apparently sitting down for breakfast. These guys seemed more like family than co-workers. They reminded me of my grandpa and great uncle in from the alfalfa field for lunch.

“Would you like some cinnamon toast?” the super-friendly desk gal asked.

“Uh, sure…” I was now a member of the family.

A salty 727 cargo pilot and one of the mechanics reminisced about their experiences flying the Alaskan Highway as I munched on toast and almost forgot about the reason I was there. Finally, I got a word in and explained what had transpired with my engine. When I asked if they might be able to get to my oil changed and spark plugs rotated earlier than previously planned, they barely even acknowledged the question. They weren’t being rude. It just wasn’t even a question. Of course they could do it.

I went back over to the FBO to check my email while the maintenance was being done. While I was there, a guy in his forties named John walked in to ask about learning to fly. I didn’t really notice anything in particular about him at first. Then I heard Tom, the manager of the FBO, exclaim,

“Is that guy smoking out there?!”

Apparently, he started smoking on the ramp as Dave, one of the instructors was giving him a tour. Then, cigarette dangling, he removed one of the fuel caps on the Cessna 150. Dave came in and said, “This guy’s not quite right! Its like he’s strung out on something!”

John really wanted to fly today. Tom and Dave stalled him by explaining that they needed a copy of his birth certificate or passport for new TSA requirements. So he came into the flight planning room where I was checking my email and called his parents on the speakerphone. I never could have predicted the conversation that followed.

“Hi Dad! Do you have a copy of my birth certificate?”

“What?! Where are you?”

“I’m at the airport and they need a copy of my birth certificate so I can start flying lessons!”

“So you can do what?”

“I’m going to learn how to fly…”

His mom got on the line, and said in a tone beyond normal motherly sternness, “John, I think you should go home, and take your meds!!”

As I did my best to slide nonchalantly out of the room, John started banging on the phone’s volume button and yelling, “WHAT WAS THAT MOM?! I CAN’T HEAR YOU! THERE’S A LOT OF TURBULENCE UP HERE!!!”

It was good that I had already left the room because I could barely contain my laughter. This was the second complete lunatic I had encountered in less than twenty-four hours. I wondered if he was in town for the same conference as my new friend, Errol. Tom did a background check on him and discovered that he had quite a history. He called the sheriff but John left before the squad car arrived.

After the excitement with John, I went back over to Blackhawk aircraft maintenance to check on my plane. They told me that at least one of the spark plugs had been totally full of lead. When I went out and ran up the engine, it was much better. I went back inside and got to talking with Nick, who is the proprietor. He showed me the immaculate interior of the Beech Staggerwing and let me check out the inside of the 18.

Then, he took me to another hangar across the way wherein we found two fully restored Stearman bi-planes and another one in the works. There was also another beautiful old Beech 18. One of the Stearmans is used by owner Susan Dacy for airshow performances.

The tour didn’t end there, either. When we got back to the breakfast room, Nick pulled out photo albums of other restoration projects including several Beech 18’s and a P-40 World War II fighter. The P-40 was pulled from the bottom of a lake and fully restored. I’m pretty sure I read about that project in a magazine as a kid. They all seemed to know the story of how each 18 had crashed and ended up in their care. Those stories alone were priceless. I couldn’t believe I just happened on this place! It would be worth flying fifty hours to go get your oil changed by Nick and the guys at Blackhawk Aircraft Maintenance in Janesville, Wisconsin.