More than one pilot has done a double take as they have watched me taxi by in the Chief. Of course the cowling doesn't exactly match the fabric, there's some grass stains on the struts, and the four cylinder doesn't exactly sound turbocharged...
There's even greater look of shock when they look inside the cabin and see the minimalist Art Deco gauge set coupled with rather cramped quarters, a single seat belt, and exposed control cables.
I suppose I did the same the first time I flew in a 1942 Taylorcraft. It had been restored as warbird and had all the spartan beauty the Army embraces. There was lots of exposed stuff and a very clear understanding that we were actually flying, not merely observing from within a sealed container.
That difference -- direct versus insulated experience -- is at the root of flying for me now. Before I was a passenger, directing the airplane (sometimes well), but insulated from the sky by sheet aluminum, fire-retardant insulation, leather, fabric, headphones, and gel ear seals.
It's very similar to cars and motorcycles. Those of us who ride are usually surprised at the risks people take just because they are "safely" enclosed in a protective cage.
The curtain's been yanked and now I'm aware there is not much between me and the sky -- the floorboards are 3/8th inch basswood and under that, Stitts PolyFiber. After seeing the engine apart on the stand, I realize how many interconnected parts must function in order to provide the energy required to stay aloft.
Knowing more is not always good for those of us with overactive imaginations. I hear noises, feel rumbles, and see fluctuations that probably aren't there. I don't know how to fix it except pay as much attention to indications that something is amiss and continue a good maintenance plan and keep looking for emergency landing fields.
But there's a certain sense of accomplishment and joy that comes from flying low over open farmland, alone but for the steady rumble of the short-stacked four cylinders firing only a few feet away and the steady hum of air on, over, and under this old airplane.
There's even greater look of shock when they look inside the cabin and see the minimalist Art Deco gauge set coupled with rather cramped quarters, a single seat belt, and exposed control cables.
I suppose I did the same the first time I flew in a 1942 Taylorcraft. It had been restored as warbird and had all the spartan beauty the Army embraces. There was lots of exposed stuff and a very clear understanding that we were actually flying, not merely observing from within a sealed container.
That difference -- direct versus insulated experience -- is at the root of flying for me now. Before I was a passenger, directing the airplane (sometimes well), but insulated from the sky by sheet aluminum, fire-retardant insulation, leather, fabric, headphones, and gel ear seals.
It's very similar to cars and motorcycles. Those of us who ride are usually surprised at the risks people take just because they are "safely" enclosed in a protective cage.
The curtain's been yanked and now I'm aware there is not much between me and the sky -- the floorboards are 3/8th inch basswood and under that, Stitts PolyFiber. After seeing the engine apart on the stand, I realize how many interconnected parts must function in order to provide the energy required to stay aloft.
Knowing more is not always good for those of us with overactive imaginations. I hear noises, feel rumbles, and see fluctuations that probably aren't there. I don't know how to fix it except pay as much attention to indications that something is amiss and continue a good maintenance plan and keep looking for emergency landing fields.
But there's a certain sense of accomplishment and joy that comes from flying low over open farmland, alone but for the steady rumble of the short-stacked four cylinders firing only a few feet away and the steady hum of air on, over, and under this old airplane.
I have had a chance to fly a "Chief" myself, and after a career in corporate aviation flying jets it is a great deal more fun to fly old slow airplanes!
ReplyDeleteI am motivated - I think I will grab my Randolph Aviator sunglasses and go fly my wife's J3 Cub for a while!
Hi,
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