I think I failed to mention my current living situation...
Friday, May 20, 2005
Thursday, May 19, 2005
From the Birthplace of the Republican Party
Howdy. Guess it’s time for an update. I flew from Rochester, MN to Jackson, MI about a week and a half ago. Took the route south of Chicago and Lake Michigan to avoid the fish food fate. My first impression is that Jackson is an undead zombie of the city it used to be. You can still almost feel the hard times this town has seen at various times due to auto industry woes. Oh well. At least the strippers are nice here.
I bought an airline ticket to Kansas City from Detroit to go home for my brother, Andrew’s graduation from Kansas State University. The trouble was in getting from Jackson to Detroit, which is about a 45-minute drive. The rental car places wanted to charge me a boatload to drop off at a different location, so my options became Greyhound or Amtrak. Amtrak ended up a couple bucks cheaper and dropped off closer to my hotel in Detroit, so I went with them. The line guy here in Jackson was nice enough to drop me off at the train station, but I had a couple hours to kill before my train left. I had some paperwork to do and packages to send so I asked if he could recommend someplace to hang out and have a frosty beverage. He pointed across the street to Cooper’s Pub. “Perfect,” I thought.
I dragged my rolling duffle bag, laptop bag, and guitar through the alley door and down a long dark hallway. At the end of the hallway, I was greeted by four young ladies, and let’s just say I felt overdressed. What the hell. I bellied up to a table sufficiently removed from the stage and close to an electrical outlet (for the laptop) and started on my paperwork. It wasn’t long before a couple of nubile employees pulled up seats next to me to inquire as to the nature of my work and my choice of venue.
“We thought maybe you had some porn on there that was better that what was up on the stage…”
I explained that my ride had failed to mention that this was a strip club and that I was just finishing up some paperwork while waiting for my train. One of them stuck around and chatted while I finished up my work. When I asked how long she’d been in the business, she proudly proclaimed,
“Since two weeks after my 18th birthday. I was actually still in high school and living with my parents.”
“Really?! When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“Famous!”
“And you thought this would get you there?”
“I don’t know. I used to watch a lot of Jerry Springer, and I think it sort of glamorized it some.”
“Huh.”
Eventually, I left and caught my train and my flight and ended up in good ole Kansas City. I think everyone had a good time at graduation and the ensuing revelry. Mom made no bones about the day being as much a celebration for her as for Andrew, since all three of her children have now graduated from college. Go us.
She may have a couple of unemployed college graduates before long though. Andrew is waiting to hear about teaching jobs in the KC area and I’m still not sure exactly what I’m doing when I leave this job at the end of the month. There are a couple jobs in regional airlines or cargo that I’m qualified to apply for. I really need to hit the books before I’ll feel comfortable going into an interview and answering questions about multi-engine systems and procedures, though. My little Skyhawk hasn’t done much to keep me current on all that. I started today by reviewing some of the interview cheat sheets posted on the internet by previous pilot job candidates. That only reminded me of how much reviewing I have to do. So the current plan is to put out some resumes and head to a peaceful, exotic, locale (KC, St Louis, DFW???) to bring myself back up to speed while waiting for responses. I hope I get some. I’m not a very good dancer.
I bought an airline ticket to Kansas City from Detroit to go home for my brother, Andrew’s graduation from Kansas State University. The trouble was in getting from Jackson to Detroit, which is about a 45-minute drive. The rental car places wanted to charge me a boatload to drop off at a different location, so my options became Greyhound or Amtrak. Amtrak ended up a couple bucks cheaper and dropped off closer to my hotel in Detroit, so I went with them. The line guy here in Jackson was nice enough to drop me off at the train station, but I had a couple hours to kill before my train left. I had some paperwork to do and packages to send so I asked if he could recommend someplace to hang out and have a frosty beverage. He pointed across the street to Cooper’s Pub. “Perfect,” I thought.
I dragged my rolling duffle bag, laptop bag, and guitar through the alley door and down a long dark hallway. At the end of the hallway, I was greeted by four young ladies, and let’s just say I felt overdressed. What the hell. I bellied up to a table sufficiently removed from the stage and close to an electrical outlet (for the laptop) and started on my paperwork. It wasn’t long before a couple of nubile employees pulled up seats next to me to inquire as to the nature of my work and my choice of venue.
“We thought maybe you had some porn on there that was better that what was up on the stage…”
I explained that my ride had failed to mention that this was a strip club and that I was just finishing up some paperwork while waiting for my train. One of them stuck around and chatted while I finished up my work. When I asked how long she’d been in the business, she proudly proclaimed,
“Since two weeks after my 18th birthday. I was actually still in high school and living with my parents.”
“Really?! When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“Famous!”
“And you thought this would get you there?”
“I don’t know. I used to watch a lot of Jerry Springer, and I think it sort of glamorized it some.”
“Huh.”
Eventually, I left and caught my train and my flight and ended up in good ole Kansas City. I think everyone had a good time at graduation and the ensuing revelry. Mom made no bones about the day being as much a celebration for her as for Andrew, since all three of her children have now graduated from college. Go us.
She may have a couple of unemployed college graduates before long though. Andrew is waiting to hear about teaching jobs in the KC area and I’m still not sure exactly what I’m doing when I leave this job at the end of the month. There are a couple jobs in regional airlines or cargo that I’m qualified to apply for. I really need to hit the books before I’ll feel comfortable going into an interview and answering questions about multi-engine systems and procedures, though. My little Skyhawk hasn’t done much to keep me current on all that. I started today by reviewing some of the interview cheat sheets posted on the internet by previous pilot job candidates. That only reminded me of how much reviewing I have to do. So the current plan is to put out some resumes and head to a peaceful, exotic, locale (KC, St Louis, DFW???) to bring myself back up to speed while waiting for responses. I hope I get some. I’m not a very good dancer.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Sunday, May 08, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Another Cliffhanger
Howdy. Happy Cinco De Mayo! This evening finds me in Rochester, Minnesota. I arrived here yesterday afternoon after a bumpy two-hour flight from Janesville, Wisconsin. Seems like a wholesome place. To my delight, I found a campground less than two miles from the airport and had my house set up before dusk. I am again the only tent dweller on site, but it’s a pleasant place all the same. In between the dogs barking and the roar of semi trucks and late night cargo flights, I can hear the gurgling of a little stream that winds around the campground.
Flew for five hours today. Got a bit of a late start due to a random rain shower and then quit a little early due to impossible turbulence. I missed the same line something like five times. At least I didn’t hit my head on the ceiling today, as happened more than once in Wisconsin.
Flying lines in smooth air is really pretty relaxing. I can just point the airplane in the right direction and zone out. I think about all sorts of things on those days. Sometimes I don’t think about anything and it’s just peaceful. Tuesday morning was like that. Great day, Tuesday. I was just completely hypnotized and then … “KLUNK! A blug a duh, blug a duh…” Better than any snapping of the fingers! I turned the anemic bird back toward the airport as I checked for possible causes for the engine trouble. Oil pressure and temperature were good. I tried the carburetor heat for a while, but it wasn’t clearing up and the warmer air in the induction decreased available power even further. I was pretty sure I was missing one cylinder altogether. It seemed like it could be a fouled spark plug. I leaned out the mixture to make it burn hotter, hoping that any lead or carbon deposits would burn off. No luck. After I advised tower of my partial loss of power, they asked if I wanted fire equipment to roll. I declined since I was still able to hold altitude and it hadn’t gotten worse since the original flub. After an uneventful landing I limped over to the maintenance shop where I was due to have an oil change and spark plug rotation later that day anyway.
To be Continued…
Flew for five hours today. Got a bit of a late start due to a random rain shower and then quit a little early due to impossible turbulence. I missed the same line something like five times. At least I didn’t hit my head on the ceiling today, as happened more than once in Wisconsin.
Flying lines in smooth air is really pretty relaxing. I can just point the airplane in the right direction and zone out. I think about all sorts of things on those days. Sometimes I don’t think about anything and it’s just peaceful. Tuesday morning was like that. Great day, Tuesday. I was just completely hypnotized and then … “KLUNK! A blug a duh, blug a duh…” Better than any snapping of the fingers! I turned the anemic bird back toward the airport as I checked for possible causes for the engine trouble. Oil pressure and temperature were good. I tried the carburetor heat for a while, but it wasn’t clearing up and the warmer air in the induction decreased available power even further. I was pretty sure I was missing one cylinder altogether. It seemed like it could be a fouled spark plug. I leaned out the mixture to make it burn hotter, hoping that any lead or carbon deposits would burn off. No luck. After I advised tower of my partial loss of power, they asked if I wanted fire equipment to roll. I declined since I was still able to hold altitude and it hadn’t gotten worse since the original flub. After an uneventful landing I limped over to the maintenance shop where I was due to have an oil change and spark plug rotation later that day anyway.
To be Continued…
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Monday, May 02, 2005
Clarification
Howdy. So I guess my last post bears some explaining. It would be more accurate to say that I gave notice. Initially, I had planned on my last day being Thursday, May 12 so that I could be home for my little brother’s graduation from Kansas State University. I figured that by then I would be close to the amount of flight time I’ve been working towards and I could make up the difference by doing some instructing this summer. I’ve saved up enough to live for a while without much income. Plus I know I’ll really need to study hard to prepare for job interviews with regional airlines or charter carriers. No telling how much brain leakage has occurred in the nearly two years since my last check ride, which reminds me that I need to renew my Flight Instructor’s Certificate this month too. Yee-haw. Actually, that should be a good review in itself: 16 hours of on-line study and an hour flying with another instructor.
When I informed my boss of my plans, he offered to give me the time off for graduation if I wanted to stay on till the first of June. I agreed even though its going to make it a little harder to fit the CFI renewal in before the end of the month. He also gave me the option of staying longer if I wanted. So its not like I’ve been going around burning bridges.
My work here in Wisconsin continues to drag on due to weather and problems with the imaging system. I only have about five hours worth of work left and if everything went smoothly, I could finish that in a short day. Things haven’t been going that way though. We ran the gamut of precipitation here today, from rain to sleet to snow to hail. It sounds like if I ever get done here, I’ll probably be going back to upstate New York. That was another reason for wanting to be done sooner, since I don’t get my per diem when I’m up there. Its considered “home base.” So I’m going to start looking for places to camp within biking distance to the airport.
I’ve had a great go at this and I certainly don’t have any regrets. The places I’ve been, I probably never would have been otherwise. I’ve learned humanity from the many amazing people I’ve met whose welcoming kindness I’ll never be able to fully repay. I’ve read some great books. It’s time to get on with life, though. I’m ready to stop being the random homeless guy…for a while.
When I informed my boss of my plans, he offered to give me the time off for graduation if I wanted to stay on till the first of June. I agreed even though its going to make it a little harder to fit the CFI renewal in before the end of the month. He also gave me the option of staying longer if I wanted. So its not like I’ve been going around burning bridges.
My work here in Wisconsin continues to drag on due to weather and problems with the imaging system. I only have about five hours worth of work left and if everything went smoothly, I could finish that in a short day. Things haven’t been going that way though. We ran the gamut of precipitation here today, from rain to sleet to snow to hail. It sounds like if I ever get done here, I’ll probably be going back to upstate New York. That was another reason for wanting to be done sooner, since I don’t get my per diem when I’m up there. Its considered “home base.” So I’m going to start looking for places to camp within biking distance to the airport.
I’ve had a great go at this and I certainly don’t have any regrets. The places I’ve been, I probably never would have been otherwise. I’ve learned humanity from the many amazing people I’ve met whose welcoming kindness I’ll never be able to fully repay. I’ve read some great books. It’s time to get on with life, though. I’m ready to stop being the random homeless guy…for a while.
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