Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Monday, 12 September 2022

Disaster At Stubfart Airield: Pilot Ignoramea

 On second thought, it was 'Pilot Ignorameum". What is it when more than one does it? How does latin pluralize things? Pilot Ingoramae? 


It's a calm day, with no gusts or tricky stuff. Calm with a very mild breeze. Today I was flying my trainer plane -  Super Dave Osbourne. The problem with trainer planes is that they get boring as soon as you develop some skills. They are designed that way - they do nothing fast, they almost fly themselves,  One of the guys called out to me when I was in a low pass and I turned my head to beak off at him... and Super Dave went into the runway nose first.



He's limping a bit… and can be easily fixed … if I want to… but I dunno. He’s full of good parts I can scavenge for the Turd Bird, and I have other planes. I just may strip it and put the rest in the fire pit.



That engine mount is just effed. I bought this plane second hand… and I got it like that.  And it flew like a charm like that. Details like that ordinarily would drive me bonkers but it worked, and I don’t believe in fixing things what ain’t broke. I just flew it and smiled. I got cocky and over confident… and the bravest little airplane on Stubfart Airfield had one last lesson to teach me. Never take your eyes off the plane! 

I did the Walk Of Shame onto the runway… picked up my wounded bird, and shuffled off in humiliation. As soon as I was off an old boy took to the air in a pretty little Astrohog. I dunno what he was thinking…he went down the runway, lifted straight off the ground, winged over at ten feet…and then went straight into the dirt at full throttle.


“I was building a new wing for it anyways,” he grumped.
“I’ll be back!!!” 
It was a threat you could take to the bank, too.



I say he got to aggressive and stalled it, but didn’t say anything after being humiliated by my own stupidity. But the other grumps thought so AND said so - bluntly! HAR HAR HAR!!! Stubfart Airfield is no place for those with self esteem, or those seeking nurturing emotional support.

Fall is coming to Stubfart Airfield. It was chilly in the morn and the old boys were in jackets and cold, and they razzed me about being in shorts and a tee shirt. Some of the trees are starting to turn, the geese are yarding up and heading south along with the sandhill cranes. The hornets are starting to come out and get mean too.  The snow will come and chase the old fellas away… and I will have the field to myself soon enough.


1 comment:

  1. We live on one of the flyways for the Sandhill Cranes. I can hear them from miles away with their distinctive calls; sometimes they're hard to spot because they like to fly as high as they can get. I've seen whole flocks of them stop overhead to circle in a thermal. In a few minutes they're thousands of feet higher, and then resume the migration. Northbound in the spring, and the ones you see leaving your north country now will be here heading south in a week or so.
    And I have BTDT with RC. I was happy as a clam once, burning up the fuel, doing loops and Cuban Eights, when suddenly there was no response. Total radio glitch, and my big bird just tucked a wing and nosedived into the brush across the field. When I got to it, it had wedged itself into a willow thicket that stopped it before it made dirt contact. A few minor scrapes and dings, but engine, radio, and all vital surfaces were intact. A couple sessions with the glue bottle, and it was good to go again. Never got a clue what happened to the radio, but our airfield was under the flight path of PDX airport; maybe the local Air National Guard jammed me on that occasion. This was many, many moons ago (1973 or thereabouts).

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