Nomad News-Vol.4-No.89

FUN IN THE SUN: After the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front and I was back home, the first order of business, as I observed, was getting the breweries back up and running profitably. I had helped boost production at that German brewery and now was the time to help the home folks. That done, I got back to my favorite pastime: Up, Up, and Away. Time went by. I got married, finally. The cost of renting a Cessna 150 kept rising until it was around $35.00 an hour. As I was leafing through the magazine of the Aircraft Pilots and Owners Assn., I came across an advertisement for an American Eagle Ultralight airplane. It showed a photo of this craft being stuffed in the trunk of a car. "What a great idea" that light bulb in my brain flashed in front of me. We were doing quite a bit of traveling and I thought we could carry this craft with the rest of the luggage and just pull it out. When we visited a location for several days or more, I could just fly around the area. Well, it didn't work out that way. I called the factory in Arizona for the location of the nearest distributor..It was Scott Bird (an appropriate name) and Scott was located near Lancaster PA, about a hundred miles from our home in New Jersey. The next weekend we took off for Lancaster and on return I was the proud owner of a $3000. Ultralight American Eagle. The Eagle stayed at Scott's airport. If a Mack truck had a trunk, it might have fit. No way in our Chrysler. My Eagle was one-place, flying wing with wing-tip rudders. It sure beat $35.00 an hour but it had some other non-amenities. For one, you couldn't loop it. One weekend we showed up at the airport to find out I was now the proud owner of a two-place Eagle. Yvete had given me the Eagle for my birthday. The experience was fun but with a lot of drawbacks. For one, the weather had to be ideal and we spent a lot of weekends sitting on the ground. Then one day, a 70-year old pilot (I have forgotten his name) took off and made a big climbing righthand turn on the hilly side of the field. He completed the turn over the runway and we thought he has "hot-dogging. (showing off). But, he made another turn and this time he barely cleared the top of the hill. Yvette and I were pre-flighting our bird at the time. Again he made the sweeping turn but as soon as he reached the crest of the hill, I told Yvette to run in an call the ambulance. I started up the hill as the craft crashed. I expected to find the pilot dead among the bundle of fabric and metal. He wasn't. His head, covered with dirt, was on the ground and I told him to remain still as the ambulance was on the way. Yvette arrived and cleaned his face the best she could. He was alive but spent two years in rehab. Scott had teamed up with an excellent pilot named Jim Walkup. They had met during the previous year's Fun-In-The-Sun fly-in in Orlando FL. Jim had good days and bad days, depending if he had taken his ugly pills. You never knew what mood he might be in. He was an exceptional pilot, though. He flew a Hummer. The Hummer was manufactured nearby and consisted of a 18-inch aluminum tube for the body. Two seats at the front for pilot and passenger. One day I watched in astonishment as he came in over the runway at full power about three-feet of the ground and looped the Hummer. Only someone with a death wish would pull a stunt like that. Then there came a report of an Eagle crashing with two fatalaties. The wing-tip rudders had jammed. One day, Jim Walkup flew the Hummer to 5000-feet and exclaimed how wonderful it was up there. Yvette asked Jim if he would take her to 5000-feet. He complied and she came back all excited. How Jim headed directly into the sun and came down, flying through a hole in the clouds. How the sound of the air singing through the guide wires, etc. That weekend was Scott's birthday. His parents came up from Bucks County and invited Scott, his girlfriend, Yvette and I out for dinner to celebrate. Jim came along but he wasn't interested in dinner. He just wanted to be dropped off at one of his favorite bars. We had a wonderful evening and on the way back, Yvette said something like, "It's a Glorious world." Jim replied: "Yes, but maybe there's a better one some place." On return, I said to Yvette: "I'm not telling you what to do but, I would think twice about flying with Jim. The next time he might head for the sun again, and believe that better world is behind the sun, and take you along with him." She had already reached the same conclusion. Soon thereafter, we moved the Eagle to a new Ultralight field near where we lived. I purchased a portable hangar for $2000. and a parachute for $1000. that would handle the plane and two passengers in case of an emergency. I now had $10,000. invested. Before long, there was another fatal accident in the Eagle, so I decided to wrap it up. Was it worth it? Probably not, but it was fun and you can't place a price on fun. I sold the hangar for $2000. and the parachute for $800. I didn't attempt to sell the airplane because I wouldn't sell something to someone that I wouldn't fly myself. I donated the Eagle to the Mid-Atlantic Air Museum and took a tax write-off, so it wasn't a total loss. I have never tried figure out the cost per hour to fly that turkey, but it was far in access of $35. Soon thereafter I received a call from a reporter for the Lancaster newspaper, telling me there had been a fatal accident at the field. I said: "Jim Walkup" and the answer was "Yes". Scott had bought the neatest little craft; an amphibian ultralight and Jim was flying it that day. There were reports of the airplane flying erratically before the crash. I believe Jim fulfilled his death wish. What's the saying?: "Live and Learn"? Not me! Came the day when there was an announcement in the Camden Courier-Post regarding a demonstration of a Paraplane. Time and location was announced. On the appointed day, I was there along with 50 or 60 more curious folks. The Paraplane consisted of a triangular metal frame with a seat at the fore and a 50-horsepower Romax engine mounted behind, and a parachute. The parachute was cached in a packet behind the pilot's head. For take-off, the parachute was extracted from it's location and the shrouds stretched out behind on the grass field. Two people held the chute up. When the pilot started the engine, the back draft of the propeller started to inflate the chute and as the pilot increased the thrust, the air gradually pulled the chute up and over the Paraplane as takeoff was established. The plane was maneuvered by two foot pedals. By working the pedals, the chute was pulled down on one side or the other to make a turn. Just as you would maneuver a personal parachute. Accent and descent was controlled by the throttle. It was quite interesting. The pilot circled the field and then descended. The manufacturer's representative then asked: "Who wants to be first?" There was silence, so, you know who, I stuck my hand up. After a few verbal instructions, it was "balls to the wall" (That's pilot talk for full throttle. In the days of propeller aircraft, the throttle arms had round knobs and when full power was required, the command was "balls to the wall", meaning the firewall, which would be the dashboard on a car. I have an interesting story to relate about this to anyone interested. Just send an e-mail to andyvette@frontiernet.net - I circled the field and landed. The price was $3300. It was quite interesting but I came home with an empty trunk, for a change. (copyright 2014 - Andrew M. Dolan)