Xtreme
13th January 2014, 12:44 PM
Iam writing to you because I need your help to get me pilot's licenceback. You keep telling me you got all the right contacts.Well now's your chance to make somethinghappen for me because, mate, I'm desperate.
Butfirst, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with theCAA Examiner.
Onthe phone, Ron (that's the CAA head), seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. Hepolitely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He evenoffered to drive out, have a look over my property andlet me operate from my own strip. Naturally Iagreed to that.
Anyway,Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to seethe plane on a small strip outside my homestead, because the"ALA"(Authorized Landing Area), is about a mile away. I explainedthat because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenientthan the "ALA," and despite the power lines crossing about midwaydown the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off, because at thehalfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.
Forsome reason Ron, seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flightinspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again.
Becausehe was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three timesinstead of my usual two.
Myeffort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheeks. Infact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I toldhim I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I had todeliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddock to the main herd.After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the backof the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron, started getting onto me aboutweight and balance calculations and all that rubbish. Of course I knew thatsort of thing was a waste of time because calves, like to move around a bitparticularly when they see themselves 500-feet off the ground!
So,it's pointless trying to secure them as you know.
However,I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set onneutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages thr oughout the flight.Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time bytramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 RPM. I thendiscovered that Ron has very acute hearing,even though he was wearing a headset. Through all that noise he detecteda metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about amonth ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floorand lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now, butit doesn't matter because it's jammed on "All tanks," so I supposethat's Okay.
However,as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from astainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between thewindshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron,because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. Ireleased the brakes to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap andspun to the right. "Hell" I thought," not the starboard wheelchock again."The bump jolted Ronback to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a rock thrownby the prop-wash disappear completelythrough the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really introuble," I thought..
WhileRon was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi tothe "A LA," and instead took off under the power lines.
Rondidn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at thelift off point, and then he screamed his head off.
"Now take it easy Ron," Itold him firmly. "That often happens on take-off and there is a goodreason for it." I explained patiently that I usually run the plane onstandard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene.To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons ofsuper MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Sincethen, the engine hasbeen coughing abit but in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight.
Hepulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (Ididn't think anyone was a Catholic these days) I selected some nice music onthe HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruisingaltitude of 10,500-feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or get theweather because, as you know getting FAX access out here is a joke andthe weather is always "8/8 blue" anyway.
Butsince I had that near miss with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinkingon that. Anyhow, on levelling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into myimproved pasture. I hate camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clippedinside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of them.
Wewere too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a gothrough the open window. Mate, when I pulled the rifle out, the effect on Ron,was electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about sixinches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo He really looked as if hehad been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron'sreaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the nextshot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about theshooting (probably one of those
pinkoanimal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem withthe tyre. Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do myfighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence,I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 1 0,500-feetdown to 500-feet at 130, knots indicated(the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red areaon me ASI. What a buzz, mate!
Abouthalf way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calvesgracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going tocomment to Ron on this unusual sight, but helooked a bit green and had rolled himself into the feral position and wasscreaming his head off.
Mate,talk about being in a zoo. You shou ld've been there, it was so funny! At about 500-feet I levelled out, but for some reason we keptsinking.
Whenwe reached 50-feet, I applied full power but nothing happened. No noise nonothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying"carb heat, carb heat." So I pulled carb heat on and that helpedquite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that wasreally close, let me tell you!
Thenmate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at thatheight we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly wentI.F. R, mate. You would have been really proud of me as I didn't paniconce, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument ratingas soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a whilenow). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouthopened very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him,"we'll be out of this in a minute" Sure enough, about a minute laterwe emerged, still straight and level and still at 50-feet. Admittedly I wassurprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself,"I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we weretaxiing." This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley inwhich I had to do a half roll to get upright again.
Bynow the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip betweenthem. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there."
Knowingthat the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turnswith full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loudin me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker toshut it up. But by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. Iturned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down with a real thud.Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a taildragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!
Halfwaythrough our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk aboutlaugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop.
Wefinally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of theaircraft like there was no tomorrow. I then began picking clumps of dry grass.Between gut wrench ing fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. Iexplained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back tothe homestead.
Itwas then that Ron, really lost the plot and started running away from theaircraft. Can you believe it? I saw him running off into the distance, armsflailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter.
Ilater heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor guy!
Anyhowmate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASAwithdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone acomplete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiencytest. Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and notsetting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did that wasa so bad that they have to withdraw me flaming' license. Can you?
RalphH.Bell
MudCreek Station
Butfirst, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with theCAA Examiner.
Onthe phone, Ron (that's the CAA head), seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. Hepolitely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He evenoffered to drive out, have a look over my property andlet me operate from my own strip. Naturally Iagreed to that.
Anyway,Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to seethe plane on a small strip outside my homestead, because the"ALA"(Authorized Landing Area), is about a mile away. I explainedthat because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenientthan the "ALA," and despite the power lines crossing about midwaydown the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off, because at thehalfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.
Forsome reason Ron, seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flightinspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again.
Becausehe was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three timesinstead of my usual two.
Myeffort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheeks. Infact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I toldhim I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I had todeliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddock to the main herd.After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the backof the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron, started getting onto me aboutweight and balance calculations and all that rubbish. Of course I knew thatsort of thing was a waste of time because calves, like to move around a bitparticularly when they see themselves 500-feet off the ground!
So,it's pointless trying to secure them as you know.
However,I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set onneutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages thr oughout the flight.Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time bytramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 RPM. I thendiscovered that Ron has very acute hearing,even though he was wearing a headset. Through all that noise he detecteda metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about amonth ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floorand lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now, butit doesn't matter because it's jammed on "All tanks," so I supposethat's Okay.
However,as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from astainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between thewindshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron,because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. Ireleased the brakes to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap andspun to the right. "Hell" I thought," not the starboard wheelchock again."The bump jolted Ronback to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a rock thrownby the prop-wash disappear completelythrough the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really introuble," I thought..
WhileRon was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi tothe "A LA," and instead took off under the power lines.
Rondidn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at thelift off point, and then he screamed his head off.
"Now take it easy Ron," Itold him firmly. "That often happens on take-off and there is a goodreason for it." I explained patiently that I usually run the plane onstandard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene.To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons ofsuper MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Sincethen, the engine hasbeen coughing abit but in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight.
Hepulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (Ididn't think anyone was a Catholic these days) I selected some nice music onthe HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruisingaltitude of 10,500-feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or get theweather because, as you know getting FAX access out here is a joke andthe weather is always "8/8 blue" anyway.
Butsince I had that near miss with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinkingon that. Anyhow, on levelling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into myimproved pasture. I hate camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clippedinside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of them.
Wewere too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a gothrough the open window. Mate, when I pulled the rifle out, the effect on Ron,was electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about sixinches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo He really looked as if hehad been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron'sreaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the nextshot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about theshooting (probably one of those
pinkoanimal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem withthe tyre. Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do myfighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence,I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 1 0,500-feetdown to 500-feet at 130, knots indicated(the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red areaon me ASI. What a buzz, mate!
Abouthalf way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calvesgracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going tocomment to Ron on this unusual sight, but helooked a bit green and had rolled himself into the feral position and wasscreaming his head off.
Mate,talk about being in a zoo. You shou ld've been there, it was so funny! At about 500-feet I levelled out, but for some reason we keptsinking.
Whenwe reached 50-feet, I applied full power but nothing happened. No noise nonothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying"carb heat, carb heat." So I pulled carb heat on and that helpedquite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that wasreally close, let me tell you!
Thenmate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at thatheight we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly wentI.F. R, mate. You would have been really proud of me as I didn't paniconce, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument ratingas soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a whilenow). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouthopened very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him,"we'll be out of this in a minute" Sure enough, about a minute laterwe emerged, still straight and level and still at 50-feet. Admittedly I wassurprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself,"I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we weretaxiing." This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley inwhich I had to do a half roll to get upright again.
Bynow the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip betweenthem. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there."
Knowingthat the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turnswith full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loudin me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker toshut it up. But by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. Iturned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down with a real thud.Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a taildragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!
Halfwaythrough our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk aboutlaugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop.
Wefinally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of theaircraft like there was no tomorrow. I then began picking clumps of dry grass.Between gut wrench ing fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. Iexplained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back tothe homestead.
Itwas then that Ron, really lost the plot and started running away from theaircraft. Can you believe it? I saw him running off into the distance, armsflailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter.
Ilater heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor guy!
Anyhowmate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASAwithdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone acomplete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiencytest. Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and notsetting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did that wasa so bad that they have to withdraw me flaming' license. Can you?
RalphH.Bell
MudCreek Station