Sticking the Landings

Journal, April 1, 1994: I got checked out on the Piper PA28 Cherokee 160 this afternoon. I flew it just great, start to finish. The instructor said he “really enjoyed” flying with me. It wasn’t a perfect day. The wind was at 220 at 20, and it was quite squirrelly on final, all cross-controlled.

It weights about the same as the Cessna 172, but the wing (the infamous Hersey-bar wing) is very different, so when you pull the throttle to idle, it comes down!

On the other hand, it was docile in the stall in all configurations, showing no inclination to drop a wing. In slow fight, we were surprised that it required full “up” trim. It only buffeted mildly in the stall, and only with full flaps.

I was very happy to be in the air again.

Journal, April 2, 1994: The Cessna 152 I rent in Shawnee made a forced landing in nearby Tecumseh after the pilot ran it out of fuel. The pilot told the newspaper the right tank’s gauge read half-full. What a moron.

Journal, April 6, 1994: I made a great flight to Holdenville and back this evening. It was rough at all altitudes, but I made a smooth approach and landing.

Journal, April 16, 1994: I started with four landings: short, soft, no-flap, forward slip. I’m still sharp.

It was an absolutely perfect night for flight. After flying northwest for a bit to check out a grass fire, I headed into the setting sun. I called OKC approach. The controller was confused – she gave me three different squawk codes. But we worked it out. I made a touch-and-go at Wiley Post, then got vectored downtown, then to Norman, where I did another touch-and-go, then headed home.

Journal, April 23, 1994: Flew today. Visibility in haze was no better than about six miles, but it was enough. I got N172FJ at Shawnee and flew it over to Seminole at 6500 feet. I had a great time, but my landings in the Skyhawk need work.

Journal, August 11, 1994: I shot seven of the best landings of my life this evening on runway 12. The wind was right out of 120. Normal, short field, soft field,  no flap, forward slip, everything.

The view is always good up here.
The view is always good up here.

August 21, 1990, in My Journal

Please note: this entry contains descriptions of violence and death that some readers might find upsetting.

I read this at Open Mic Night Monday, October 7, 2024…

There’s something about seeing freshly-dead, burned-up bodies that puts an air of frivolity around the day’s business.

The lives of four people, on a business trip, were rather suddenly and terrifyingly turned to charcoal.

Yes, there’s something about it. There’s something about being rendered unrecognizable by fire.

There’s something about being stiff and frozen in the position in which you must have had your last thoughts.

There’s something about being hauled into a crash bag and tossed into the back of an ambulance.

I know it happens every day, all over the world, but when it happens just north of Sandy Creek, it somehow means more to me.

It reminds me that I am in that plane or that car or that building every day, and there, but for the grace of blind luck, go I.

I wonder now if they had their affairs in order. I wonder whose heart was broken this afternoon as I watched, from outside my newspaper, the first plumes of  smoke rise from the ground north of town.

Do I have my affairs in order? Am I ready to leave my body behind, heavy and stiff and helpless?

And is that what life is about? Do some business, get a bite to eat, go down in flames?

Is this another one of those “make every moment count” speeches? Sure, I guess. The four people in that plane today might have been saints or satans, but now they are simply dead.

Richard R. Barron | The Ada News (FILE) -- Byng's Dan Randolph, Dee Harrison and Joe Daniels were the first firemen at the scene of an airplane crash near Byng Tuesday afternoon. The fiery crash, which killed four persons, occurred just minutes after the plane took off from Ada Municipal Airport.
Richard R. Barron | The Ada News (FILE) — Byng’s Dan Randolph, Dee Harrison and Joe Daniels were the first firemen at the scene of an airplane crash near Byng Tuesday afternoon. The fiery crash, which killed four persons, occurred just minutes after the plane took off from Ada Municipal Airport.

A Birthday in the Air

Journal, July 1, 1994, my 31st birthday…

To celebrate, I flew, of course. First, I flew the 150 alone to the practice area and did some spins. It had been a while, and guess what? Spins are still a huge rush.

At 9 p.m., I flew two short field landings on runway 12, the second one short enough that I got the airplane stopped before the intersection with runway 17.

I had asked my young friend Amber if she wanted to fly with me. I picked her up at the terminal, and we flew to Seminole and back, about 30 miles, in the gathering darkness. It was an absolutely beautiful flight.

Almost back to Ada, we followed Dr. Chad in N5434E on five mile final. The approach was so beautiful that I didn’t want it to end, so I flew the missed approach. Both times I flew the VASI all the way to the numbers perfectly.

That birthday with my shy friend Amber in the right seat was perfect.

Small airplanes + big skies = beauty.
Small airplanes + big skies = beauty.

The Weird Fates of Some of Those Airplanes

Right after I got my pilot certificate in May 1993, I got checked out to rent airplanes at airports in my area.

Two Ada High School students tagged along with me for a story on the Cougar News Network, including this young lady in the back seat. The aircraft, a Cessna 172, belonged to Gary Rhynes, who rented it to me very regularly. I still have the video they made that day.
Two Ada High School students tagged along with me for a story on the Cougar News Network, including this young lady in the back seat. The aircraft, a Cessna 172, belonged to Gary Rhynes, who rented it to me very regularly. I still have the video they made that day.

N2870Q, a Cessna 172, belonged to Dub. Dub and I were the first students to graduate from Phil’s class at the Ada airport. That was Saturday morning, May 1, 1993. Dub took his check ride in his airplane, and I took mine in the rental, N6059G, a really nice Cessna 150.

That 150, named Old Gomer, was apparently involved in a September 2023 crash in Huntsville, Texas that killed both occupants.

In April 1997, I ferried Dub’s Cessna to Tulsa, where he was having work done on a Piper twin he had recently bought. It flew like every other Cessna 172. I was surprised to learn that in November 2005, someone (I don’t think it was Dub) crashed this airplane after running it out of fuel in Rock Springs, Wyoming.

Abby and I pose with a Cessna 152, N6202M, in the spring of 2003.
Abby and I pose with a Cessna 152, N6202M, in the spring of 2003.

Another Cessna 152 I rented pretty regularly, including to fly with Abby in the spring of 2003, N6202M, was demolished in a fuel-exhaustion crash in 2018 at Horseshoe Bay, Texas.

It hurts my bones to see a plane Abby and I had so much fun in get crunched like this.
It hurts my bones to see a plane Abby and I had so much fun in get crunched like this.

For a while I was renting a Piper Cherokee 160, N5422W. It was easy to fly, but had a couple of oddities I didn’t like, such as the Johnson bar flaps, and the overhead crank for elevator trim.

I took it to Tulsa a couple of times. The most interesting Tulsa trip involved a stubborn thunderstorm directly over my destination, Tulsa International Airport, which happened to be close to where a friend lived at the time.

I dutifully listened to the ASOS, but instead of weather and NOTAMS, all I heard was, “developing situation; contact ATC.” Weird. On the other radio I heard an American Airlines flight asking to return to Oklahoma City. Weirder. I called ATC and they told me a thunderstorm was parked right over Tulsa International, and hadn’t moved in an hour. I told them I would land at Riverside, which was reporting VFR. The Riverside controller had me do a right downwind for 17, and said he would call my base turn. The thunderstorm was right in front of me. I slowed the airplane down and waited for what seemed like forever before he called my base. The landing was uneventful.

A few months later I called to rent that plane again, but no one seemed to know where it was. Word on the street was that someone had flown it to Mexico and left it there.

The airplane finally found it’s fate in August 2000 when the pilot reportedly “encountered a gust and lost directional control while attempting a go-around, resulting in an in-flight collision with trees and terrain.”

Possibly the weirdest fate of any airplane I flew regularly was a Cessna 172 with the tail number N172JF. An accident report from October 1998 states, “Witnesses observed the airplane roll into a steep bank and descend vertically into the ground… the accident site was located adjacent to a church where a friend of the pilot was attending services. The friend had reportedly declined a marriage proposal from the pilot the night before the accident. The medical examiner classified the pilot’s death as a suicide.”

Airplanes are only useful when they fly.
Airplanes are only useful when they fly.

A Day of Planes

An American Airlines Boeing 777 arrives at DFW's runway 18-right.
An American Airlines Boeing 777 arrives at DFW’s runway 18-right.

Ever since my late wife’s daughter Chele and her family moved to Anna, Texas, I’ve wanted to visit Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport’s Founder’s Plaza, which is about 45 minutes from Chele’s home.

When it comes to flying, I am a kid at heart. Here I am posing with bronze statues of kids "flying." My shirt, a gift from my wife, says, "I'm a pilot; what's your superpower?"
When it comes to flying, I am a kid at heart. Here I am posing with bronze statues of kids “flying.” My shirt, a gift from my wife, says, “I’m a pilot; what’s your superpower?”
Paul Thomas Reeves uses my 500mm to photograph the jets. Longtime Ada and Byng residents might be interested to know that Paul is Dorothy Milligan's great-grandson.
Paul Thomas Reeves uses my 500mm to photograph the jets. Longtime Ada and Byng residents might be interested to know that Paul is Dorothy Milligan’s great-grandson.

My readers know that I have always been a big fan of aviation in all forms, and I became a pilot in 1993. I love air shows, military aviation, commercial aviation, anything.

I thought this overhead lamp was art unto itself, especially the wires on top, designed to keep birds from landing on it.
I thought this overhead lamp was art unto itself, especially the wires on top, designed to keep birds from landing on it.

Built in 1995, Founders’ Plaza is an observation park dedicated to the founders of DFW Airport.

Founder's Plaza flies the Dallas flag, the Texas flag, and the U.S. flag.
Founder’s Plaza flies the Dallas flag, the Texas flag, and the U.S. flag.

I was a little afraid I might bore Chele, her husband Tom, and their 13-year-old son Paul, but they ended up loving it too. We saw lots of jets, some arriving from or departing to locations across the globe. We had a great time, and vowed we would return, possibly at sunrise or sunset, maybe in the fall.

An Avianca Airbus A320 passes "over the fence, over the numbers."
An Avianca Airbus A320 passes “over the fence, over the numbers.”

I recommend this attraction, which is free, for anyone who loves airplanes.

A Korean Air Boeing 787 Dreamliner starts it's takeoff roll for it's nearly 15-hour slight to Seoul, South Korea. It can be tempting to think of these very long flights as mundane, but I still look at it as something very amazing. For what it's worth, I was back in Ada, had walked my dogs, had dinner, and gone to bed before this aircraft arrived at it's destination.
A Korean Air Boeing 787 Dreamliner starts it’s takeoff roll for it’s nearly 15-hour slight to Seoul, South Korea. It can be tempting to think of these very long flights as mundane, but I still look at it as something very amazing. For what it’s worth, I was back in Ada, had walked my dogs, had dinner, and gone to bed before this aircraft arrived at it’s destination.

Out the Door, Off the Rails

I recently had the opportunity to fly in the camera plane to photograph a Douglas A-26 Invader, a fast medium bomber of late World War II. The aircraft was fueled with Ada-based General Aviation Modifications, Inc.’s new aviation gasoline, G100UL, the first-ever 100-octane unleaded aviation gasoline.

This is the team posing for a for a picture prior to our air-to-air photo session.
This is the team posing for a for a picture prior to our air-to-air photo session.
This is my perch before takeoff.
This is my perch before takeoff.

I sat on the floor in the back of a Beech Bonanza A36, N59CT. I wore a harness, which I mention because people who saw pictures of me kept asking if I was “strapped in,” not, I guess, realizing the straps of the harness I am visibly wearing in the photos are holding me safety in the aircraft.

My view out the door on departure shows one of Ada's most-recognized landmarks for both people on the ground and people in the air, the big red barn of the Pontotoc County Agri-Plex. On clear days, you can see this from 5000 feet 30 miles away.
My view out the door on departure shows one of Ada’s most-recognized landmarks for both people on the ground and people in the air, the big red barn of the Pontotoc County Agri-Plex. On clear days, you can see this from 5000 feet 30 miles away.
We flew down to Atoka Lake, about 45 miles southeast, where we formed up with the A-26.
We flew down to Atoka Lake, about 45 miles southeast, where we formed up with the A-26.

The Commemorative Air Force owns and the A-26, and only flies it when they can afford it, and when they have a pilot with the type rating to fly it. I wrote the story for my newspaper when the aircraft moved to Ada in January 2022 after losing the lease for its hanger in Guthrie.

In this view, the A-26 pilot is banking slightly into us, holding some left aileron and right rudder so he holds his position relative to us, allowing me to photograph more of the aircraft than an edge-on view might provide.
In this view, the A-26 pilot is banking slightly into us, holding some left aileron and right rudder so he holds his position relative to us, allowing me to photograph more of the aircraft than an edge-on view might provide.

At one point a four-foot piece of trim came un-velcroed from over my head. I didn’t want to lose it or pitch it overboard, so I pinned it to the floor with my right foot.

Since it was a bit gloomy, my images of the green aircraft against the duller-green of the lake weren't ideal, but will work for client.
Since it was a bit gloomy, my images of the green aircraft against the duller-green of the lake weren’t ideal, but will work for client.

The flight was reasonably smooth, but we didn’t get sunshine, and the CAF has a 500-foot minimum air-to-air formation rule, so, though I shot with my 300mm f/2.8, a lot of my frames were trash, and overall they weren’t as beautiful as some of the commercial air-to-air work I’ve seen.

On descent back at Ada, I asked John to deploy the speed brakes, an aftermarket accessory for faster airplanes that help the airplane descent faster without risking an overspeed.
On descent back at Ada, I asked John to deploy the speed brakes, an aftermarket accessory for faster airplanes that help the airplane descent faster without risking an overspeed.
I am all smiles in the back of the airplane and behind my 300mm. It was a warm day, but once we got the wind rushing in, I was very comfortable.
I am all smiles in the back of the airplane and behind my 300mm. It was a warm day, but once we got the wind rushing in, I was very comfortable.

It was a lot of fun, and I hope GAMI and the CAF call on me again to do this kind of work for them.

 

The No-Fly Zone

Sometimes flying on a Saturday is the most fun you can have, and sometimes factors as fickle as the wind and the weather bring that all to a halt.

Your host poses with the Douglas A-26 Invader this morning at Ada Regional Airport.
Your host poses with the Douglas A-26 Invader this morning at Ada Regional Airport.

Today was one of those Saturdays.

I was invited by General Aviation Modifications Inc. President and fellow pilot Tim Roehl to be the photographer for a high-visibility demonstration of their newly-certified G100UL unleaded aviation gasoline.

The plan was to fuel up the Douglas A-26 Invader that lives on the field here at Ada Regional Airport, an aircraft I wrote a news story about in January 2022 (link), and fly it in formation with GAMI’s Beech Bonanza A36 with the right side door removed so I could photograph the Invader as it flew from Ada to Chickasha, Oklahoma for an air show.

Patchy dense fog rolled into the area just as we got the word that our pilot couldn't make it.
Patchy dense fog rolled into the area just as we got the word that our pilot couldn’t make it.

Right around our planned departure time, Tim got a text from the A-26 pilot that he needed to go to Florida unexpectedly, and at that same time, dense fog rolled up all around us.

We finished the last of the prep work, including fitting the new safety harness on me and testing it, so we will all be ready – hopefully – when the pilot and the weather are good to go.

Your host poses in the doorway of our camera ship, a Beech Bonanza A36, with a brand new safety harness. Hopefully we will be able to put this mission together again soon.
Your host poses in the doorway of our camera ship, a Beech Bonanza A36, with a brand new safety harness. Hopefully we will be able to put this mission together again soon.

Maybe Some of Us Shouldn’t Fly

In 1996, at a meeting of the local chapter of the Experimental Aircraft Association, a fellow pilot, one of the guys I learned to fly with, told us he departed Guthrie, Oklahoma to fly to Ada under low ceilings and visibility, without any charts. He tried to “scud run” under the clouds until he passed under the top of a television broadcast tower. He urgently climbed into the clouds without a clearance, but couldn’t remember any of the Oklahoma City approach/departure frequencies (I know them by heart: 124.4, 120.45, 126.4). He called Fort Worth Center, who handed him off to Oklahoma City. When his transponder wouldn’t work, even on 7700, they gave him a vector based on primary (not transponder) radar contact.

In early 1993, when my pilot class and I were doing our flight work, a fellow student did his long cross-country flight to Stillwater, then Enid, then back to Ada. When he returned, one fuel tank was almost empty, and the other tank was completely full. Since the fuel selector in the Cessna 150 is either “off” or “both,” he must have simply forgotten to fill one of the tanks when he stopped.

The pilot of one of the airplanes I rent made a forced landing in it near Tecumseh, having run it out of fuel. He told authorities the right fuel gauge indicated he still had half a tank left.

The same week I got my pilot’s license, May 1993, a 30-year pilot made a forced landing about 10 miles north of the airport after his engine ran out of oil and failed. The pilot was notorious for getting in and flying his airplane with no preflight checks of any kind.

This is my home airport, Ada, Oklahoma, KADH.
This is my home airport, Ada, Oklahoma, KADH.

Movie Reviews: Airport, Airport 1975, Airport ’77, The Concorde… Airport ’79, and Airplane!

I recently wanted to switch off, tune out, and relax, so I picked one of the least threatening movies in my DVD collection, Airport. As it happens, I own the “Terminal Pack” of airplane disaster movies, a box set of four of these films that also includes Airport 1975, Airport ’77, and The Concorde… Airport ’79, and I also own Airplane!, the parody of them all.

Dean Martin plays the airline captain, and Jacqueline Bisset is the head Stewardess who he's gotten pregnant. In one scene they discuss getting an abortion (though they avoid that word), and Martin says he believes Sweden is the best place to get one.
Dean Martin plays the airline captain, and Jacqueline Bisset is the head Stewardess who he’s gotten pregnant. In one scene they discuss getting an abortion (though they avoid that word), and Martin says he believes Sweden is the best place to get one.

A quick word about these names: during that era, we lived in a world that thought the 1970s was so modern, and shows like Match Game sounded the coolest when it became Match Game 75! that year.

The senior film of the bunch is easily the one of the four that seems to have a legitimate story to tell, in which various intertwined plots (seven, in fact) flow around a busy fictional international airport in Chicago. It’s somewhat formulaic, but in many ways, it created this formula, the so-called “disaster” film.

Abby and I watched this film together, and typical of her, Abby fell in love with the elderly stowaway played by Helen Hayes. I loved the film for its campy self-importance and overblown drama, and, of course, for the aviation angle.

One of the best performances of the show (as Abby always called movies) came from Maureen Stapleton as Inez Guerrero, wife of suicidal passenger D.O. Guerrero. Her urgency and utter dismay that ends in learning her husband was dead is completely believable.

Air traffic controllers and pilots actually have some realistic conversations, including the tense, foreboding “PAR approach” near the end of the movie. A PAR approach, which is a type of ground-controlled approach using precision approach radar to provide both vertical and horizontal guidance for an aircraft, is never used any more except maybe by the military for combat training.

There are some charming and funny scenes, but none more that Dean Martin bullshifting a nosey young passenger…

Schuyler Schultz: [pointing out the window] Before, Virgo and Leo were right there, sir. Now I’m beginning to see Ursa Minor and Cassiopeia. We MUST be turning around.

Capt. Vernon Demerest: You have a young navigator here! Well, I’ll tell ya, son… due to a setslow wind, Dystor’s vectored us into a 360 turn for some slow traffic. Now, we’ll maintain this board and hold until we receive a Forta Magnus clearance from MELNIX.

Dana Wynter sold her role so hard in dialog with Burt Lancaster that I wanted to divorce her myself.
Dana Wynter sold her role so hard in dialog with Burt Lancaster that I wanted to divorce her myself.

Of course, some of the characters are flat, like the airport manager’s wife, who is monotonously hateful for most of the movie, and George Kennedy, who, well, is George Kennedy.

An interesting and tragic side note to this movie is that Lancaster’s romantic interest, Jean Seberg, killed herself in Paris in 1979.

I was saddened to learn that Jean Seberg killed herself in 1979. We liked her performance in this movie.
I was saddened to learn that Jean Seberg killed herself in 1979. We liked her performance in this movie.

Airport is the pick of the litter, but when I was a kid, I fell in love with Airport 1975. Sure, the writing, acting, and directing are clumsy and insincere, especially between Charlton Heston and Karen Black, but it has a 747 in it!

Okay, yes, you read that correctly. Heston and Black’s utter romantic miscasting remained unrivaled until the chemistry between Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis made our libidos shrivel to nothing in Top Gun.

It's a little unfair to pick on Linda Blair, who was just 14 at the time, for her role in Airport 1975, since the script and direction are stacked against her. It has been parodied time and again, but it really does a stand-up job of parodying itself.
It’s a little unfair to pick on Linda Blair, who was just 14 at the time, for her role in Airport 1975, since the script and direction are stacked against her. It has been parodied time and again, but it really does a stand-up job of parodying itself.

One direct effect of Airport 1975 when I was 12 was to immerse me even deeper into aviation, and I decided then, and kinda believe to this day, that the Beechcraft Baron is the coolest, sexiest airplane ever built.

The plot is pretty unrealistic: a giant airliner is flying across the country when ATC tells them the “entire coast is socked in, but Salt Lake is available.” Meanwhile, the gorgeous Baron (which doesn’t bear the tail number of the aircraft in the dialog) ends up wildly out-of-control because Dana Andrews’ pilot character has a heart attack.

Yes, I know. ATC has radar, and they would vector the jumbo jet away from the twin, but I guess maybe, uh, reasons.

Before I continue: if you thought the infidelity and womanizing in Airport is bad, Airport 1975 is absolutely appalling, especially the mercilessly sexist, demeaning “flirtation” toward the flight attendants by the second officer, played by Erik Estrada.

The twin crashes into the jumbo, with hilarious results! Okay, maybe not intentionally hilarious results, but between the crash-test-dummy first officer being sucked out of the hole in the cockpit, the ketchupy blood on Efrem Zimbalist Jr., the fact that we have a critical kidney patient (Linda Blair!), and Heston saying “damn!” every 40 seconds, it is a non-stop parody of itself.

My sister Nicole does a hilarious impersonation of Karen Black at the controls of the stricken 747.

I would never describe Karen Black as a great actor, but she really bottomed out reading the lines from Airport 1975.
I would never describe Karen Black as a great actor, but she really bottomed out reading the lines from Airport 1975.
I asked my sister Nicole to send me a photo of her impersonating Karen Black in Airport 1975, and she had generated this in about 20 minutes. Um, are those corn dogs?
I asked my sister Nicole to send me a photo of her impersonating Karen Black in Airport 1975, and she had generated this in about 20 minutes. Um, are those corn dogs?

So, yada yada yada, dramatic midair suspense, and we land in Salt Lake City. But, wait, “Damn! Brake pressure’s dropping!” Heston screams, and we crash into a utility shack at the end of the runway.

It really isn’t a very put-together movie.

Predictably, the next two in the series, Airport ’77, and The Concorde… Airport ’79, are even less watchable, to the point of being insufferably pointless.

It’s kind of a shame Jack Lemmon got connected to Airport ’77, because just a year later he was excellent in The China Syndrome. Watch this space for a review of that hidden gem.

But then, a new hope dawns on the airliner movie scene: Airplane! If you felt unclean after attempting to watch the Airport series, you will feel literal pain from laughing so hard at Airplane! It takes something from every Airport movie, plus a few others that take themselves way too seriously, like The High and The Mighty, even Saturday Night Fever, and crams it into 88 minutes of irreverent, and often inappropriate, humor that, if you can lower your offendable defenses for a bit, will have you pausing it just to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It makes fun of everybody in a way movie makers just can’t do today.

Airplane! is probably not the movie for the millienial/woke set.
Airplane! is probably not the movie for the millienial/woke set.

The Early Days in the Air

I got my pilot’s license Saturday, May 1, 1993.

I shot this from Cougar Field, the Ada High School baseball field, which is right next to the airport. You can see the date stamp on the left edge of the photo, April 30, 1993, and the tail number, N6059G. It was just the next day, in this airplane, that I took my check ride and became a private pilot.
I shot this from Cougar Field, the Ada High School baseball field, which is right next to the airport. You can see the date stamp on the left edge of the photo, April 30, 1993, and the tail number, N6059G. It was just the next day, in this airplane, that I took my check ride and became a private pilot.

Every pilot remembers seminal moments in their flying careers, like their first solo, their first long cross-country, or the first time they carried passengers.

The day of my check ride was no different. Fellow student Dub and I were both getting our check rides that day. The examiner was about two hours late. He gave a rambling, three-hour oral “exam,” which was mostly him telling us to…

  1. Stay out of the weather
  2. Don’t fly at night
  3. Don’t mis-load the airplane.

We plotted our cross-country flights. I knew my charts, numbers, and regs pretty well.

Dub flew his check ride in a Cessna 172 he had just bought. I flew mine in the Cessna 150 I’d trained in.

On my check ride, which is slang for Private Pilot Practical Test, he had me do a soft-field take off on runway 12 (the shorter crosswind runway), which I executed well. We turned east and practiced some slow flight, then climbed north for some steep turns, one (yes, just one) stall (straight ahead, power-on), and about five minutes under the hood (a view-limiting device) for unusual-attitude recovery and VOR navigation. Over the river north of town, we did turns around a point and half an s-turn, then headed to the airport. I set up for a soft-field landing. He told me to go around at about 50-feet above the ground. We climbed to pattern altitude and turned downwind for 17, where he pulled the throttle to idle to simulate an engine failure.

We taxied to the ramp, where he said, “You go tell Phil (my instructor) you flunked your check ride, and make it convincing. Then I’ll go inside and write your license. Congratulations.”

Dub went next in his 172. Phil was nervous like an expectant father. And since I tested first, I had the honor of being Phil’s first student to “graduate.”

I flew my first passengers just two days later, in a 1966 Cessna 150 I rented in Norman, Oklahoma.

Robert and I horse around one fine and fun afternoon in the air.
Robert and I horse around one fine and fun afternoon in the air.

A couple of days later, Dub and I flew his 172 north of town to find and look at an airplane one of our fellow pilots, we’ll call him “Frank,” had landed his plane in a wheat field after the engine failed. “Frank” was notorious for getting in his airplane and flying off without any preflight checklist or briefing of any kind, and on this occasion, it was rumored he flew it without any engine oil, causing it to fail.

It was also that spring when I found out I had won the AP’s Photo of the Year, and The Oklahoma Press Association’s Photographer of the Year awards, so I really was flying high.

Here are some items about flying to commit to memory.

  1. Be humble, approachable, and credible.
  2. Always, in order: aviate, navigate, communicate.
  3. If you are lost, climb, communicate, confess.

And I can’t stress this one enough: put. the. nose. down. How many more tragic accident reports and YouTube videos (including four fatality accidents that I covered for my newspaper) before pilots stop being so incompetent with the elevator?

Just weeks after I got my license, I was flying with someone from my class who was still working towards his license. The cross-country went fine, but on final I saw his airspeed decay to something like 40 knots, and although I was a green pilot myself, I said, “my airplane,” and salvaged the landing. How? By putting the nose down!

This is a pretty good setup for turning base to final in a Cessna 150; about 70 knots, 1800 rpm, 700 fpm down, 10 degrees of flap. The temptation is to let too much speed bleed off from here to the threshold, but I typically kept that 1800 rpm until I was over the numbers, maybe even pushing it up just a bit to slow my descent rate. I got very good at landing this airplane in just a few hundred feet of runway. And if you feel too low or too slow, don't raise the nose! Stay calm and add power!
This is a pretty good setup for turning base to final in a Cessna 150; about 70 knots, 1800 rpm, 700 fpm down, 10 degrees of flap. The temptation is to let too much speed bleed off from here to the threshold, but I typically kept that 1800 rpm until I was over the numbers, maybe even pushing it up just a bit to slow my descent rate. I got very good at landing this airplane in just a few hundred feet of runway. And if you feel too low or too slow, don’t raise the nose! Stay calm and add power!

Things You See When You Fly

Chris Eckler, Ada City School’s STEAM (science, technology, engineering, arts and mathematics) educator, invited me to fly with him in the Cessna 172 we both rent, the one that lives at our home airport in Ada, to Weatherford, Oklahoma, to deliver some Christmas gifts for children in need, and pick up some for kids back in Ada.

Your humble host smiles for a selfie in the Cessna today. You can see the back seat over my shoulder is crammed with Christmas presents.
Your humble host smiles for a selfie in the Cessna today. You can see the back seat over my shoulder is crammed with Christmas presents.

I mostly ran the radios, and we talked to Fort Worth Center and Oklahoma City approach for Flight Following, which is radar service that adds a layer of safety by providing traffic advisories.

Chris gets the airplane settled in for cruise.
Chris gets the airplane settled in for cruise.

Anyone who knows me knows that there is nothing I won’t climb, crawl or fly in just for fun, or to make pictures.

It was an absolutely beautiful day to be in the sky, and I have always loved the things I see when I am flying.

Every time I drive out west, I see these wind farms, but when seen from the air, they seem smaller and farther apart.
Every time I drive out west, I see these wind farms, but when seen from the air, they seem smaller and farther apart.
This is the cloverleaf intersection of Interstate 44 and the H.E. Bailey Turnpike Extension.
This is the cloverleaf intersection of Interstate 44 and the H.E. Bailey Turnpike Extension.
Holy smackeral, look at this house!
Holy smackeral, look at this house!
It was smooth at all altitudes, and the airplane pretty much flew itself.
It was smooth at all altitudes, and the airplane pretty much flew itself.

Back in the Left Seat

I think I'm going to fly over there.
I think I’m going to fly over there.

My social media circles might have noticed this week that I have returned to the aviation hobby after a 20-year hiatus.

I always wanted to be a pilot. I became a licensed private pilot May 1, 1993, just short of 30 years ago.

I flew a lot in the 1990s, when the hobby was less expensive. My wife (then, girlfriend) Abby and I flew together in the spring of 2003. By then, the local aviation community had become less active, and there weren’t really any airplanes to rent here. She and I rented airplanes at Shawnee.

One of the reasons I am flying again now is that thanks to Ada Wings, there are three aircraft that live here at Ada to rent.

There are some myths about flying as a private pilot that I should dispel. It’s very safe. We’re not test pilots or daredevils, and the airplanes we fly are airworthy. One thing that keeps us safe is our respect for the weather, which most non-pilots don’t really understand. We don’t have airliners. Most private pilots like me fly close to home because it’s fun. We can’t jet up to Nova Scotia in a couple of hours. We fly for fun, and for the challenge of becoming better pilots.

Monday I flew with Ada Wings’ flight instructor Zach Burkhead, who gave me my first flight review in 21 years. Everything came back to me pretty quickly, but I still feel like I should sharpen my skills. My landings were sloppy, but that’s to be expected with dormant muscle memory.

The two aircraft I flew Monday were a straight-tail Cessna 150, and a Cessna 172.

Burkhead signed me off for two years, and checked me out to rent their airplanes.

If you’ve ever dreamed you would like to learn to fly, make it happen. I did, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Flight instructor Zach Burkhead and I smile for my camera Monday, April 10. It was great to get back up in the air.
Flight instructor Zach Burkhead and I smile for my camera Monday, April 10. It was great to get back up in the air.

 

Thoughts about Top Gun: Maverick

The hottest movie topic in 2022 was Top Gun: Maverick.  I am sorry, my friends who loved this movie, but…

The biggest problem I have with this film is the same problem I have with the final three Star Wars films in the saga: rehash.

  • The same title card and Faltermeyer/Loggins intro music.
  • The same fighter jet porn in the intro.
  • Goose’s son wears Goose’s exact same mustache.
  • The fighter pilots are approached from behind in an ambush-introduction.
  • The motorcycle scene with his girlfriend (even riding in the same direction as the original scene). Same jacket, same motorcycle.
  • The stupid sunglasses they all wore in the first movie and in this movie; they were on-point stylish in 1969.
  • The mission is almost identical to the mission the rebels undertook in Star Wars: A New Hope… a very small force is tasked with skimming a narrow canyon to hit a small opening in the enemy base, and the mission is saved at the last minute by an arrogant pilot who was not part of the original plan.

Also…

  • He steals an F/A-18?
  • The ultra-sonic test jet flying over North America? Never happen. Supersonic flight of any kind is done over the sea.
  • The task group fires a spitload of Tomahawk cruise missiles at one runway. Each one of those costs about two million dollars, and just one of them would be adequate to take that airfield out of the fight.
  • Or, you could use the Tomahawks to actually do the mission.
  • No one with bitter feelings about the instructor would even be assigned to the mission, no matter how skilled he or she is. Direct conflict of interest.

Also, this job doesn’t really seem like a job for the Navy and carrier-based warplanes, but an Air Force task with something like the B-2 Spirit long-range stealth bomber. And why are these jets attacking anything without air superiority, like a real-life mission the Israeli Air Force did in 1981.

By the way, Iran is the only nation in the world to have any F-14 Tomcats in service, so duh, it’s Iran. But of course, the presence of the F-14 was shoehorned in to get Tom Cruise back into one for the final scene, and, of course, with Goose’s son in the back seat.

A note about G-forces: this happens when an aircraft is experiencing a lift vector that changes the attitude of the aircraft. The instant an aircraft stops that vector by leveling off, regardless of the direction it’s nose it pointed, the G-force falls back to normal. We see these F/A-18s pull out of the attack, and the pull-up maneuver is what creates the Gs. An aircraft climbing straight up or diving straight down is not experiencing high G-forces.

The bottom line is, for me, that Top Gun: Maverick is easily the most over-rated, over-anticipated movie in the last five years. I didn’t really enjoy it.

Top Gun: Maverick
Top Gun: Maverick

Interesting Times

When I feel like I am getting into a creative rut, I sometimes turn to the rather large cadre of work I have created in my journals over the years. Just in the last few days, I picked up a journal from 2002 and read in it some, putting little Post-It® notes on the pages with notes like “Kay said she loved me on the phone,” or “OU practice light gun,” about getting the control tower in Norman to use the signal lights as I climbed out on my way back to Ada in the Cessna 172 I was renting all the time back then.

These notes are from 2001-2002, right around the time I tried to date Lisa, and about six months before I started dating Abby.

I love it when she says my life is better than hers. I could listen to her voice for hours, but not for days.

Misty told me, “We’ll never forget these endless nights on the balcony.” (We shared a balcony at my apartment.)

Balcony party, early 2000s.
Balcony party, early 2000s.

Laughed and laughed all night long with Kay online, both of us joking that we’d meet in Joplin tomorrow at midnight. Such tender feelings for her. I adore her.

Wayne is playing Quake III Arena on my computer and Misty is contemplating cutting her own hair.

In Norman, I decided on Thai food for lunch. It’s the anti-Ada. Excellent volleyball later on in a clear afternoon with Misty and two kids from across the street. We ended up on the balcony in the warm night air, trading stories.

I called Kay after her computer crashed, and listened to her go on about the stupidest stuff, captivated by the way her voice trails off and the way she pronounces her Ps.

Jamie called to tell me about getting run over and breaking her hand getting her friend’s car out of ditch.

Ten years ago was dirty and pure. It was just before Pam in the middle of the whole MP infatuation thing. In a way, I miss those times, and in a way, I know I never want to do that again.

I saw Anna (not the Norman one) at the store, and as I left, I thought, “I can’t believe I ever went out with her,” and I’m sure she was thinking the same thing.

Ostensibly for Cinco de Mayo, I took Wayne and Misty to Norman for dinner with the gang. Thea cooked and did a great job, and everyone laughed and had a great time.

Marilyn has been trying to set me up with someone named Amy. I called her today and asked her out, and she said, “I don’t even know you!” Why even try?

Instant message with Kay tonight…

K: I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m just very mellow tonight.
R: If I were there, I would brush your hair.
K: I wonder why my husband never thinks of that.
R: Some guys are hair-brushers, and some guys aren’t. You are a great person and a great friend.
K: Thanks. I haven’t felt worthy of it in the last few days.
R: You have my permission to sleep well and wake up in a positive mood.
K: I’ll do my best. Thanks for cheering me up.
R: I love you. Good night.
K: I love you.

May 15: So much emotion arcing between Kay and me tonight. We admire each other. Today in an email, she said, “that’s why you’re my idol.” I’ve never felt closer to her.

Kay called to say she wouldn’t be online tonight. In some ways, she’s my defacto girlfriend. I probably talk to her as much as anyone, including her husband. Maybe it’s just as well that she lives 450 miles away. Or maybe if she lived close, this relationship wouldn’t exist. Sometimes I really hurt for her.

“It feels like I’m fighting God, that God hates me.” ~A

She wants her love life to be like a book, but it’s not a good book.

“When I wasn’t looking, you became my closest confidant.” ~Kay, May 29

She’s spending the evening with her husband, and it feels like she’s cheating on me.

“Have I said ‘I love you’ lately?” ~Kay, June 4. She called me four times today, and during the last one she said, “That’s why you’re my mentor, my hero.”

June 8: Jamie and I laid down together on my futon, where she slept for an hour while I read Quiet Days in Clichy. I could feel her body unwind as I held her. Afterwards, I could smell her on my clothes.

June 11: I had an excited message from Kay. I called her, and she was excited because she had processed her film from class. “I wanted to tell someone,” she said, “but no one cares but you.”

Women all around, all out of reach.

D told me that “kids suck.”

June 17: A told me she masturbated six times yesterday.

Kay isn’t who I think she is.

June 20: K and I just talked and talked and talked. She told me it was no accident that she calls all the time, and she really likes “talking to someone who has something intelligent to say.” I told her I hope I was a good listener. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she added. “Maybe that’s why I like talking to you so much.”

I have a spotty acting career that included being in my next door neighbor Wayne's send up of James Bond, Montana Max. In this March 2002 scene, Max is about to break my neck at the end of a fight scene.
I have a spotty acting career that included being in my next door neighbor Wayne’s send up of James Bond, Montana Max. In this March 2002 scene, Max is about to break my neck at the end of a fight scene.

Kay, why didn’t this happen to us nine years ago? She is so much on my mind. I seriously doubt she understands the depth of my feelings for her. After all, what woman ever has?

“Your scrapbooks?” I told Kay, “they’re your style!”
“Ugh,” she said. “Can I have your style instead?”

June 27: “Kay, you can’t dispute what I am about to say. You were adorable in junior high.” …followed by the sound of a frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone.

She called me later on the phone in a foul and furious mood, repeatedly referring to herself as “stupid.”

“And it would be better if I could just go home and go to sleep,” she said, “but my husband will be there, and I don’t want to explain to him why I had a bad day. So you’re getting it all. I’m really a bitch on days like these.”

July 23, 2002: “You know why I like being with you?” Jamie asked. “All my other friends are noisy. You’re quiet.”

I ran into Allison, another woman who I asked out but wouldn’t go out with me.

July 31, 2002: Looking at my logbook, I realize yet again what a shame it is that I’m not flying much any more. Years ago it was so easy: the keys to the Cessna 150 were in my pocket, and Vera sent me a bill every month at $30 an hour. I practically had no choice but to fly a couple of times a week. Now, though, scheduling is a pain, and it’s more than $60 an hour for the Skyhawk. My flight instructor and the airport manager both haven’t flown in years.

I was flying a fair amount during this period.
I was flying a fair amount during this period.

August 3, 2002: At last I got my biennial flight review in the T-34. I didn’t fly especially well, but it was only my second hour in the model. Its splendid handling and power are easily offset by its awkward control layout and ergonomics. Still, it was a joy to fly.

Kay called me “Sweetie” on the phone today. Later she was online only long enough to tell me she was pissed off at her husband and “wasn’t handling it very well.” I re-read her December 1994 letter about how much she is in love with her husband, but she never says that about him any more. For the first time, I heard her use the phrase “seven year itch” to describe her marriage.

Wayne and Misty decided to move out.

It was that week that I got an email from a mutual friend that Lisa, a long-time hard crush for me, was divorcing, and that became my primary focus.

Kay called and told me she felt “protective of” me.

“Lisa was in my arms tonight!” ~Journal, August 11, 2002

In the middle of an my emotional conflagration, in the middle of the night, there is a knock at the door. It’s Jamie, who is a mess. “I just needed a few minutes with somebody sane,” she tells me, and I am secretly amused by the irony.

Kay called and listened to my self-indulgence for about 45 minutes. Sometimes I don’t understand what she gets from “us.”

September 16, 2002: I certainly haven’t been a Buddha these last few weeks. My thoughts are all over the place, in other times and other’s hearts.

Great flirting with Kay on the phone. Very affectionate. At the end of the conversation, she said she loved me.

A called in her usual funk of dissatisfaction. Jamie called in a miasma of heartache. The comfort of tears, and the night.

When asked to pick one word to describe me, W said it was a tie between “intense” and “passionate.”

Kay on the phone, miserable with allergies. A on the phone, miserable with a toothache. Richard (me) on the phone, miserable with self-indulgence and ingratitude. Lame is too lame a word to describe it.

This chapter sort of ends in October 2002, when I took a trip to Caprock Canyons in Texas, then just a month later, a longer trip to Utah.

This was my apartment in 2002.
This was my apartment in 2002.

 

Euphoria

Journal, March 1997…

“You sounded really euphoric on the phone,” she said.

Alone in the four-seat Cessna Skyhawk, I climbed quickly to 4500 feet to find a very special layered sunset. I did a couple of hard-breaking power-on stalls, and handled them perfectly, then headed back for my required three night full-stop landings to remain current.

I fly in the pursuit of perfection.

The sky awaits.
The sky awaits.

Two Decades Since 9/11

In some ways, the era before 9/11 was an age of innocence.

Just prior to 9/11, I was flying a lot, like in this image of my friend Michael and me flying a cranky Piper Tomahawk (known to aviators as the "Traumahawk") that I rented at Max Westheimer Field in Norman.
Just prior to 9/11, I was flying a lot, like in this image of my friend Michael and me flying a cranky Piper Tomahawk (known to aviators as the “Traumahawk”) that I rented at Max Westheimer Field in Norman.

I have written many times over the years about where I was when 9/11 happened. Since Saturday is the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, an entire generation of people, some my friends and relatives, have little to no memories of that day.

The World Trade Center in New York City is shown in this March 1985 image from the Empire State Building.
The World Trade Center in New York City is shown in this March 1985 image from the Empire State Building.

So today I’d like to share not where I was or what I was doing, but who I was on that day.

I was still flying all the time. I earned my pilot certificate in May 1993, and flew a lot in those years. There were a couple of nice, affordable airplanes to rent at the Ada and Norman airports, and I was building hours by flying and training. 9/11 had a chilling effect on this, since, only marginally related, the terrorists involved had a small amount of general aviation training.

I flew to Florida in the late summer of 2001 to see my parents. My mother made this image of me on a pier at Flagler Beach, Florida. The next time I took a commercial flight in December 2001, the Orlando airport was packed with armed National Guard troops.
I flew to Florida in the late summer of 2001 to see my parents. My mother made this image of me on a pier at Flagler Beach, Florida. The next time I took a commercial flight in December 2001, the Orlando airport was packed with armed National Guard troops.

I was unmarried and wasn’t dating anyone. This wasn’t for lack of trying, but more about how difficult it is to be in a good relationship or in a good marriage. From the moment of 9/11 to my first date with my wife Abby in January 2003, it seemed like an eternity, but of course it was just 16 months.

I lived in a very small downtown Ada apartment. Because it was near the college, my apartment tended to be more culturally diverse than most neighborhoods, and I really liked that.

I still had a darkroom at our newspaper, so I was still very active in film photography, especially black-and-white photography.

On September 12, after more than 24 hours of watching the news about the attacks, a friend told me on the phone that, “I’m really brain dead. I wonder if it’s information overload. I feel like the wheels are just whirring away inside my head.”

9/11 changed us all in some ways.

Just a few days before 9/11, I photographed Ann Kelley with her dog Cookie at their home in Shawnee. Sadly, Ann passed away in 2012 after a battle with cancer.
Just a few days before 9/11, I photographed Ann Kelley with her dog Cookie at their home in Shawnee. Sadly, Ann passed away in 2012 after a battle with cancer.

What Did I Want to Be? What About You?

This was my column for Wednesday, May 13.

This is me making pictures of rocks in a lot behind our house in 1978, using my then-new Fujica ST-605N film camera.
This is me making pictures of rocks in a lot behind our house in 1978, using my then-new Fujica ST-605N film camera.

I was recently honored to once again help jury some East Central University Mass Communications students’ senior presentations, specifically those students who emphasized visuals like photography, graphic arts and design.

It got me thinking about my college days and earlier, and about what I imagined I wanted to be as an adult – “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

This is a painting my parents had of my sister Nicole and me, painted when we were very young. I wonder what these two kids would think about what they wanted to be when they grew up.
This is a painting my parents had of my sister Nicole and me, painted when we were very young. I wonder what these two kids would think about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

In 1974, I was absolutely sure I wanted to grow up to be a pilot. I had a beautiful model of a Pam Am Boeing 747-200, an aircraft known as “the queen of the skies,” that inspired a whole generation of young people. Although I never did it professionally, I became a pilot in 1993.

In sixth grade, a teacher we all liked and admired, Mrs. Gerber, asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. When no one volunteered an answer, Mrs. Gerber got out her roll call book and started calling our names in alphabetical order, so I was first. I blurted out, “Farmer,” and the class laughed and laughed. But the next kid didn’t have an answer either, and also said, “Farmer!”

Eventually we had a room full of 26 would-be farmers.

That summer, my mom got me a part-time job working for an oral surgeon for whom she worked as an office manager. My job mostly involved mopping and cleaning, but I also learned how to clean stainless steel dental instruments and sterilize them using an autoclave, so for a while I had dentistry in mind.

For most of my life, I have loved flying and airplanes, and got my pilot's license May 1, 1993. Everything I thought would be great about flying was great.
For most of my life, I have loved flying and airplanes, and got my pilot’s license May 1, 1993. Everything I thought would be great about flying was great.

In 10th grade, I was fascinated with the weather, and even wrote down watches and warnings on my journal, so there was a short period when I wanted to be a meteorologist.

Made during the transition from film to digital in about 2003, this is the essential me: a professional photographer.
Made during the transition from film to digital in about 2003, this is the essential me: a professional photographer.

By 11th grade, I’d been keeping a journal for a while, and imagined I could one day be a novelist, albeit one without a plan for writing even my first novel.

As a senior in high school, I was taking pictures for yearbook, and got addicted to that. Around that same time, I started hanging out with guys who loved hi-fi stereo, so there was a period when I dreamed of working in a stereo store.

I asked my wife Abby what she wanted to be when she was young.

“I wanted to be a cowgirl when I was four,” she told me. “But not like Dale Evans. I wanted to be Roy Rogers.”

She wanted to be a mechanic, and actually did a fair amount of that kind of work as a hobby. She knows pretty much everything there is to know about internal combustion engines, even rebuilding one with her brother-in-law, Ralph Milligan, which she raced.

She played with being a math teacher, a child psychologist or a veterinarian. She worked in a veterinary clinic in the 1990s.

By my late college years, I had settled on being a photojournalist, in part because I was good at it, and in part because the equipment is pretty sexy.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Abby and I pose with a Cessna 152 I was renting in Shawnee in 2003. This was very early in our relationship.
Abby and I pose with a Cessna 152 I was renting in Shawnee in 2003. This was very early in our relationship.

Boeing’s Mistake

Aviators and aviation fans who follow the news know that recent months have not gone at all well for American passenger aircraft manufacturer Boeing. Two Boeing 737 passenger jets crashed in recent months, both brand new Boeing 737 MAX aircraft, killing a total of 338 people.

The entire 737 MAX fleet has been grounded since the second crash. Subsequent investigations have pointed to the jet’s new MCAS system, a computer-controlled device intended to tame the aerodynamic difficulties that came about from the necessity of adding bigger, more powerful engines that didn’t quite fit under the low ride of the original 737, engines that had to be reshaped and moved forward and upward on their mounts.

The whole idea of putting big engines on this jet has its limits, and, as we are now seeing, has a huge consequence.

Where am I going with this? In the 1980s and 1990s, Boeing built an excellent, powerful, reliable, narrow-bodied jet that, had it been nurtured and developed within its role among airliners, would have been perfect in the role the 737 MAX is trying to occupy: the Boeing 757.

Boeing built the 757 from the start to serve to 200 to 295 passenger market. It featured a large, ahead-of-its-time wing, and huge, fuel-efficient engines. It was a beautiful aircraft, and remains a workhorse jet for airlines like Delta, American, Fed Ex, and UPS,  who are looking without success for a replacement for the 757.

The problem arises from Boeing’s short-term thinking. When 757 sales slumped, Boeing abandoned it, and tried to work stretched 737’s to take its place. The real answer would have been to make the 757 a priority, in engineering, performance, efficiency, and reputation. Let the 737 be the perfect plane for Denver to Sioux City, then position the 757 for Houston to Seattle.

The same thing happened to precipitate the 737 MAX debacle: when airlines told Boeing they needed a “new” jet right now, Boeing decided to abandon any new designs and “MAX” the 737, a jet that fundamentally dates back to 1963.

I know: who am I to talk but a business dilettante? But I’ve been right a few times about this and that: MySpace, Radio Shack, JC Penney, Sears, Wards, Hipstamatic. And it’s absolutely valid for me to make observations about the business world in which huge, thriving corporations are driven into dust by MBAs who should know better than I.

A Boeing 737 Classic makes a touch-and-go-landing at Ada Regional Airport recently.
A Boeing 737 Classic makes a touch-and-go-landing at Ada Regional Airport recently.

The Missing Piece of 9/11

YouTube has recently suggested a lot of 9/11 conspiracy videos to me. If I click on one of them and watch it, YouTube mines that and suggests more. As I watch them, one thing is pretty clear: few people buy all the way in to the “official” story of the day, which says that 19 Islamists simultaneously hijacked four airliners on the east coast, flew them for some distance without effective official countermeasure, then successfully flew three of them into symbolic structures. Two of those structures, very tall skyscrapers, then collapsed in an identical fashion, and later that day a similar nearby skyscraper also collapsed in a nearly identical fashion.

The problem with the conspiracy theories is this: as implausible as the events of 9/11 seem, no one seems to be able to suggest either a more passable scenario or explain why powers that be would create scenarios that seem so inconsistent.

So, let’s break it down 9/11’s most implausible items…

  • Steel skyscrapers collapse due to impact plus fires. I’ll grant you that this is a pretty hinky occurrence, and what the theorists say most often, that no modern high-rise has ever collapsed in its footprint after being damaged or destroyed by fire, is true.
  • Airliner wings and engines “melt” into the side of a steel structure like the WTC towers or the side of the Pentagon. I suspect this one is related to speed; bullets go into stuff all the time and seem to melt, despite being much softer than the materials they strike.
  • Airliners flying near the ground at very high airspeeds. A lot of conspiracy videos assert, and even cartoonishly illustrate, that wings of airliners would be torn off at 500 knots at sea level. As a pilot, I know a few things about speeds, and they are talking about Vne, or Velocity Never Exceed, the bug on the airspeed dial the represents sound advice from the engineers who designed and built the aircraft: if you go faster than this, we can’t guarantee the airplane will fly a like it should or even hold together. While it’s true that on the flight decks of the jets that struck the WTC, there were probably audible and visual warnings going off, and that flying a jet at these speeds would mean taking it out of service for inspection, it is not a guarantee that the wings and empennage would fly off.
  • No black boxes found/black boxes found by the FBI and/or not released. This is probably a consequence of the FBI being in charge of the investigation. Only the NTSB knows how to collect and interpret such devices. A more marginal explanation might be the desire to “spare” the families the horror of reenactments.
  • The planes were actually missiles that were switched for the actual planes that ended up somewhere else. Even if this were the case and for some reason you needed to shoot the WTC with a missile, why not just put it onto a 767?
  • That airliners would be able to shut off transponders at a certain time of day. Actually, Occam’s Razor favors this one, as a bunch of teenage boys with walkie-talkies could have done it.

One way to measure the logic of a scenario is to examine what it accomplishes.

Certainly if you wanted to commit 9/11 from the inside, the hijacking scheme is one way to do it, but why would you? If you wanted to burn records or destroy specific buildings, a far simpler way would be to stage a fire or explosion. Or a more straightforward terror attack, like a successful version of the failed 1993 WTC attack.

Or turn it around: what did 9/11 accomplish for the U.S. government? Specifically? That’s really the biggest hole in the 9/11 conspiracy scene: what did 9/11 accomplish for the insiders?

Somebody please talk some sense to me. I certainly can’t find it from the internet’s so-called Truthers.

This is the empty sky on the morning of September 12, 2001. Grounding all aircraft in the United States for days after 9/11 was a very immature response to what actually happened: strongarm attacks on a small number of commercial aircraft.
This is the empty sky on the morning of September 12, 2001. Grounding all aircraft in the United States for days after 9/11 was a very immature response to what actually happened: strongarm attacks on a small number of commercial aircraft.

The Tin Goose

The EAA's historic Ford Tri-Motor lumbers overhead this morning. My media friends and I got to fly in her Thursday.
The EAA’s historic Ford Tri-Motor lumbers overhead this morning. My media friends and I got to fly in her Thursday.

Readers might recall that three years ago my media cohorts and I were treated to a “media ride” on the Experimental Aircraft Association’s 1929 Ford Tri-Motor. The “Tin Goose” was in town again this week, and we took the usual media ride.

After flying in the Ford Tri-Motor, my next assignment was ECU soccer. The match started about the time of our flight, and you can see them playing in the lower left hand corner of this image.
After flying in the Ford Tri-Motor, my next assignment was ECU soccer. The match started about the time of our flight, and you can see them playing in the lower left hand corner of this image.
This view of Ada shows Arlington Street below. If you know Ada, it will be immediately familiar.
This view of Ada shows Arlington Street below. If you know Ada, it will be immediately familiar.
Photographer Wes Edens made this image of me peering out one of the huge picture windows of the Ford Tri-Motor.
Photographer Wes Edens made this image of me peering out one of the huge picture windows of the Ford Tri-Motor.

It was fun, but in all honesty, as a pilot, I’ve flown a lot of airplanes, and done a lot of crazy fun stuff in the sky, so puttering along in the world’s slowest airliner wasn’t exactly a thrill ride. Still, it’s always nice to be in the sky, and fun to meet up and do something unusual with my fellow media friends.

Always the Sky

Between making images of the Cardinal Flyers Association Fly-in and talking about flying, I managed to squeeze off a selfie of me flying with Cardinal Flyers Association President Keith Peterson.
Between making images of the Cardinal Flyers Association Fly-in and talking about flying, I managed to squeeze off a selfie of me flying with Cardinal Flyers Association President Keith Peterson.
Compared to the junk in which I learned to fly, Keith's Cessna Cardinal is the Taj Mahal of single-engine aircraft.
Compared to the junk in which I learned to fly, Keith’s Cessna Cardinal is the Taj Mahal of single-engine aircraft.

As I covered an Ada softball game at their field next to the Ada Municipal Airport, I couldn’t help but notice a larger number of Cessna Cardinals in the landing pattern, and an even larger number parked on the grass near the airport’s signature business, GAMI/Tornado Alley Turbo. I surmised we were having a fly-in of some kind, and as my readers know, I am a pilot, and powerfully attracted to anything related to aviation.

When I finished working my softball game, I drove next door and found long-time friend and fellow pilot Tim Roehl, who was organizing the event. After I made a few feature photos of pilots and planes, Tim hooked me up with Cardinal Flyers Association President Keith Peterson, who took me around the patch for some images of the fly-in, and to talk about flying. It was fun, and, as always, great to be in my sky again.

This image shows the Ada Municipal Airport and, near the bottom of the frame, the Ada Lady Cougars softball field where I'd been working just 30 minutes earlier.
This image shows the Ada Municipal Airport and, near the bottom of the frame, the Ada Lady Cougars softball field where I’d been working just 30 minutes earlier.

A Flying Barn

This view looks southeast from just south of the Ada Municipal Airport on our short media ride in a 1929 Ford Tri-Motor this afternoon.
This view looks southeast from just south of the Ada Municipal Airport on our short media ride in a 1929 Ford Tri-Motor this afternoon.
Once airborne, Lisa Bratcher felt a sense of elation.
Once airborne, Lisa Bratcher felt a sense of elation.

Seemingly fit to go along with my last post, I went on another media ride today, on a 1929 Ford Tri-Motor, with many of my old media buddies.

Explore Ada videographer Will Boggs makes footage of our pilots.
Explore Ada videographer Will Boggs makes footage of our pilots.
Despite its legend, there is nothing even remotely elegant about the Ford Tri-Motor.
Despite its legend, there is nothing even remotely elegant about the Ford Tri-Motor.
Brian Brasier captures audio for his KCNP report.
Brian Brasier captures audio for his KCNP report.

The plane was exactly as I expected it; primitive, mechanical, loud, awkward. I’ve flown may planes and wanted to fly many more, but I had no desire to fly this one.

It was a fun ride, however, and it’s always nice to see my media buddies and my pilot buddies.

In the front two rows of the Tri-Motor with me (left) are Explore Ada videographer Will Boggs, City of Ada spokesperson Lisa Bratcher, and KCNP radio journalist Brian Brasier, all longtime friends.
In the front two rows of the Tri-Motor with me (left) are Explore Ada videographer Will Boggs, City of Ada spokesperson Lisa Bratcher, and KCNP radio journalist Brian Brasier, all longtime friends.

“Life is Spectacular”

Journal entry, Sunday, June 5, 1994:

I departed Ada in a rented Piper Cherokee 160, N5422W, intending to fly to Tulsa International Airport (my friend Robert lived near there at the time) at about 3 p.m., climbing to 3500 feet. It was choppy at that altitude, but I couldn’t get higher for a scattered to broken layer of mixed towering cumulonimbus. Visibility was good and because of the weather, I kept my eyes open for alternate airports. About halfway along, I had to go between two large thunderstorms, but it got clearer as I approached Tulsa.

I navigated mostly by VOR; there are surprisingly few landmarks between Ada and Tulsa.

I could see huge towers of a thunderstorm over Tulsa and began planning my return to Ada or, if necessary, Okmulgee (which was close). I tried to tune in the Tulsa International ATIS, but at first I wasn’t receiving it, then suddenly it came on the air and simply reported, “contact approach for rapidly changing conditions.”

Karen posed for this portrait on Robert's couch; I made this with my Fuji GW670 medium-format camera on Kodak Verichrome Pan Film.
Karen posed for this portrait on Robert’s couch; I made this with my Fuji GW670 medium-format camera on Kodak Verichrome Pan Film.

I listened to approach for a few minutes, and heard them vector an American Airlines MD-80 back to Oklahoma City. I decided to go to Tulsa Riverside, which is on the other side of Tulsa. I called approach and they gave me two VFR vectors for spacing, then handed me off to the RVS tower. They had me fly three miles downwind, which almost put me into the growing thunderstorm to the north. I slowed the aircraft. Finally he called my turn to base and cleared me to land. In a light rain I touched down, perfectly smoothly.

I had dinner with Robert and his (then) girlfriend Karen. During dinner we nicknamed her Snow Pea (which stuck with her). We went back to Robert’s apartment and photographed Karen, who looked very beautiful.

The flight back to Ada was very different from the trip from Ada. From the very moment I took off, it was as smooth as I’ve ever flown. In the safe, warm glow of the red lights of the instrument panel, I climbed to 6500 feet in perfect visibility and started receiving the Ada VOR. I called Fort Worth Center to request flight following, and apparently I was their only low-altitude business for the night, because they never gave me an advisory.

On eight-mile final I canceled radar service and arrived with an even smoother landing.

Life is spectacular.

The towering cumulus cloud is the most dangerous, and the most beautiful, cloud to a pilot.
The towering cumulus cloud is the most dangerous, and the most beautiful, cloud to a pilot.

Long Life to You My Friend

This is the panel of the Cessna 150 in which I had my primary flight training.
This is the panel of the Cessna 150 in which I had my primary flight training.

May 1, 1993: I climbed into a spritely Cessna 150 named “Old Gomer” with a flight examiner. We flew for an hour, testing my skills and knowledge. When we were done, we parked the airplane, then went into the airport so he could issue me a temporary airman certificate. I was a pilot, the first of my flight instructor’s first class to become a pilot.

Next up for his check ride was Dub Tolliver. He bought a Cessna 172 near the end of his training, so he tested in it, and he too got his airman certificate that day, but he and I both got most of our training in Old Gomer. I hung around, and after we both had our “license to learn” in hand, we sat and talked about flying with our examiner.

A couple of days later I flew my first passenger, the late Kathy Godfrey. We had fun.

That weekend, Dub called me to say that a pilot from our airport had put his airplane into a field near the Canadian River 10 miles northeast due to an engine failure, and would I like to fly over there and see it. Of course, I did, and Dub let me fly his 172, which was new to me.

As the months went by, Dub and I did a lot of flying together. One time we flew two 172s to a spot south of town and flew in formation for a while, which was even more fun than it sounds.

On another occasion, he and I formed up and stayed in formation all the way down to Alliance Airport in Fort Worth, Texas, where a group of Ada pilots got a tour of Fort Worth Air Traffic Control Center and the tower and Dallas/Forth Worth International Airport, an experience much harder to come by in the the post-9/11 world.

Dub bought two more airplanes as more time went by, a twin-engine Piper, and a Bellanca. I got to fly both of them once or twice, and the time I flew his Bellanca, it was from the left seat, which for some reason (hopefully not my flying skills) made him very nervous.

On another occasion, we flew together to Tulsa where his Piper was being repaired. I left him to fly it home and took his 172 home for him.

Dub had the odd habit of wearing an orange hoodie when he flew. I guess he thought he’d be easier to spot if he had to put down in the middle of nowhere. Dub also loved flying really low, and his favorite thing to do in his airplanes was buzz the Canadian River with the wheels about six feet above the water.

Dub never really got comfortable with the Piper twin – the axiom in aviation is that if you don’t train in your twin constantly, it’s twice as likely to kill you as your single. He eventually sold it.

Dub died Monday after a battle with cancer. He was 68.

Dub Tolliver
Dub Tolliver

First Solo: 20th Anniversary

This is Phil's endorsement in my logbook to solo on December 20, 1992.
This is Phil’s endorsement in my logbook to solo on December 20, 1992.

In the summer of 1992, I was encouraged by a young lady I was dating at the time to embark on a lifelong dream, to learn to fly. I began my training in August with an excellent pilot named Phil Lawrence, in a sharp-looking Cessna 150 with the name “Old Gomer” painted on the engine cowl. My training was limited to three or four sessions a month, but as fall went on, I got more and more comfortable flying the 1600-pound two-seater.

On December 20, 1992, on a bone cold, slate grey day, after flying three touch-and-go landings from Ada’s runway 35, Phil and I stopped the airplane on a taxiway. He endorsed my logbook, got out of the airplane, and said “Shoot three more,” meaning fly three touch-and-goes by myself. I taxied to the threshold, prepped the airplane by the book, and took off. I remember how much lighter and more responsive the plane felt without the weight of my instructor in it. My three landings were flawless.

Once back in the hangar, by tradition, Phil cut off my shirt tail to “hang it out to dry.” Later that day I got on a jet and flew to Florida for Christmas, with a once-in-a-lifetime story to tell.

Soloing is a seminal moment in every pilot’s life.

Although this image was made some years later by Abby, the view is similar to the one I had landing a spritely Cessna 150 named Old Gomer on that cold morning in December of 1992.
Although this image was made some years later by Abby, the view is similar to the one I had landing a spritely Cessna 150 named Old Gomer on that cold morning in December of 1992.

Subterraneans and the Summer at 10,000 Feet

This is a Cessna 152 I rented sometimes from an FBO in Shawnee, Oklahoma. This image was made after I landed following a fantastic tour of the Dallas-Fort Worth airport and Fort Worth Air Traffic Control Center in the fall of 1994.
This is a Cessna 152 I rented sometimes from an FBO in Shawnee, Oklahoma. This image was made after I landed following a fantastic tour of the Dallas-Fort Worth airport and Fort Worth Air Traffic Control Center in the fall of 1994.

I am counting on most of my fans to be like-minded in the way I let music carry me away. For example, if I listen to “Crystal Baller” by Third Eye Blind, it takes me back to my first vacation with Abby in 2003. If I listen to “Mercy Street” by Peter Gabriel, it takes me back to the first weeks I spent with Kathy Sterbenc in 1986. If I was listening to something a lot during a season, that song takes me back to it.

Tonight my iTunes shuffled to “Subterraneans,” one of the three movements of the “Low” symphony by Philip Glass, and I was instantly taken back to one particular season, the summer of 1993. I was logging a lot of Cessna hours back then. The airplane I rented most was a Cessna 150, and it was cheap enough that I could sometimes fly a couple of times a week.

It was on one of those days that I wanted to play around with the airplane and my experiences. That hot summer day in 1993 I decided to climb that little airplane to 10,000 feet. It took quite a bit of patience. Unlike airliners, by the time you get a Cessna 150 to 10,000 feet, it’s 108 horsepower engine is struggling to climb 100 feet per minute. By the time I finally got there, it was an absolute pleasure to feel the cold rush into the cabin through those infamous Cessna “beer can” vents at 40 degrees cooler than it was when I left the summer-hot tarmac.

I excitedly noted in my log book, “10k feet!”

Another piece of music that brings back that summer with intense longing is Grieg’s Piano Concerto In A, Op. 16 – 2. Adagio. I can listen to either of these pieces of music and close my eyes and be there again, alone in that tiny airplane in that big sky, just flying for no other reason than to be flying.

I made this image from the Dallas-Fort Worth central control tower on our air traffic control tour day in September 1994.
I made this image from the Dallas-Fort Worth central control tower on our air traffic control tour day in September 1994.

I Flew Away

Flying a Piper Tomahawk from the Norman, Oklahoma airport with Michael, 1993.
Flying a Piper Tomahawk from the Norman, Oklahoma airport with Michael, 1993.

For many years in the 1990s and early 2000s, I flew a lot. Airplanes in my neck of the woods were cheap, my rent was low, and it was easy and convenient. A lot of people flew with me over the years, including my mother. (My sister says that the day I took mom flying over the pristine beaches of northern Florida, she and my dad sat at home in abject silence the entire time.) Others who came on board through the years include Michael Zeiler and his wife Thea Goldsby, David and Brenda Wheelock, the late Kathy Godfrey, Melissa Price (who asked me, “Do we get helmets?”), Joanna Teel, Caprice Harris, Scott Andersen, Rosemary Swift, Anne Roberts, Robert Stinson, Debbie Harris, Kris Cash, Jennifer Leirer, Michelle Bullard, David Martin, Ann Kelley, Sharon Maupin, Jamie Harrel, and bunches more. I’d call somebody up and say, “Hey, I’ve got the airplane. Want to come along?” They always did.

Of course, nobody was more eager to go or enjoyed it more than Abby. The times I let her fly the airplane, she seemed like a natural, and if money and circumstance ever allow, I would love for her to learn to fly.

I saw a lot in my years of recreational flying; amazing sunsets that went up and down as I flew touch-and-go landings, towering cumulus like mountains all around, the lights of Dallas and Oklahoma City at the same time late at night, formation flying, aerobatics, airliners beneath me on approach to Oklahoma City, fog rolling in in the distance, shimmering sunshine on lakes far below, and on and on.

This is the panel of the Cessna 150 in which I had my primary flight training.
This is the panel of the Cessna 150 in which I had my primary flight training.

Eight Things

I got tagged by someone to post eight things about himself that no one, or at least very few people, knew about him. One of his was that he witnessed the murder of a police officer, which is tragic and wicked cool at the same time.

So, here are eight things you might not know about me…

  1. My first recognizable word as a baby was, “Radio.”
  2. I am CMV free, making me a choice plasma donor, and I have donated five gallons of plasma.
  3. I have performed aerobatics in three different airplanes, a Cessna 150, a Cessna 152, and a T-34 Mentor.
  4. I dated 8 women who were 5′ 2″ tall. My wife Abby is 5′ 7″.
  5. I cannot swim, and don’t want to learn. In fact, I hate the water.
  6. I once helped ditch a car that one of my high school buddies had “borrowed” from his grandfather then wrecked, in what became known in my circles as the “Valley of Shadows” incident.
  7. In college I extensively infiltrated and explored the maintenance tunnel system at Oklahoma University. My friends and I were the “Mole Patrol.”
  8. I haven’t eaten any meat at all since 1989, and no animal products since 1994.

That’s eight!

At Aztec Ruins National Momument, 2003
At Aztec Ruins National Momument, 2003

Flying

Self portrait at Max Westheimer Field, Norman, Oklahoma, summer 2002
Self portrait at Max Westheimer Field, Norman, Oklahoma, summer 2002

Here are a couple of photos from my days as an aviator. The reason I don’t fly any more, and many of my pilot buddies don’t fly any more, is that it has gotten much too expensive. Part of that is the panicky idiot mentality of Americans after 9/11, which was incorrectly laid at the feet of general aviation, and part of it is the absurd rising cost of fuel. If I ever hit the lottery, I will rejoin the ranks in the sky, but in the mean time I reflect on what a great time I had in the air all those years.

Flying a spiffy Cessna 150 named "Old Gomer"
Flying a spiffy Cessna 150 named “Old Gomer”