 
His Wind Beneath My Wings

Become a safer pilot  
Lessons and experiences shared from this Christian pilot's own mishaps and pilot training experience.

Published by LIFE SENTENCE Publishing at Smashwords – Copyright 2013, Lionel Smith

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Watch for additional books in this series, due 2013 - 2014
Contents

Introduction

A Pilot is Born

My First Airplane

Various Airstrips

Gaining Experience and Hours

Life Without the Tri-Pacer

Commercial Pilot & Flight Instructor

Famous Air Show Pilots

Passengers

Non-airplane Stories

More Aviation Stories

About the Author

Lionel's Testimony

Glossary

Acknowledgements
Introduction

As the founder and chief pilot of Christian Wings for the World, Inc., I wrote a syllabus to use for training missionary bush pilots. I wanted to help them serve in third-world countries using airstrips instead of airports and dealing with conditions that don't appear in the proverbial airmanship book. This syllabus is an outline or checklist for me to make sure I didn't leave out any important tasks. One of my hopes has been to start a missionary training organization that will live on after I am gone. My desire was to write a flight training book that would direct the next flight instructors to properly teach the maneuvers and procedures in my syllabus. After I finished several pages of the training book, it occurred to me that I learned a great deal about flying airplanes by doing things that turned out to be very dangerous, but God spared me. This became my encouragement to write this book.

Pilots can benefit from my experiences, and others can benefit spiritually. This book can provide an enjoyable pastime for anyone who reads it. We need to learn from others' experiences because we won't live long enough to learn them all ourselves.

What is special or different about this book? These are true stories from this author's life. Many of the aviation stories are very exciting, but they were very close calls that certainly could have been my last flight.

This book is intended for light airplane pilots, missionary pilots and the general audience. It is more than a book of my stories. Hopefully the stories will help the pilots become better pilots and others to become more spiritually aware of the God who created all things. And you will see how He watches over His creation, including you and me. After my Ag plane crash in 1979 and while I was healing, I was hit with a realization that God had never turned His back on me.

Sara told me that a few days after the crash, the first hospital informed her that there was nothing they could do for me. She said a lady in the emergency waiting room told her to take me by ambulance to UMC (University Medical Center at Columbia, Missouri) because they would do something even if they thought the patient would not live. (I think that lady was an angel sent by God to give Sara that message). I spent fifty-six days there and another five months wearing a back brace at home. My doctor wanted me to stay in the hospital for another month. I was flat on my back and hooked up to hoses all of that time. As I lay there looking up while my body was healing, I was also healing spiritually.

Most of these stories are about me, but there is an occasional story about other pilots. Some will be funny, some exciting, and for me, a few will be sad.

There are some nonflying stories as well. I did my best to keep facts separate from fantasy

As you read these stories, you will see that I got into some bad situations. Sometimes it looks like I took control of some of these bad situations. You will see my shortcomings, ignorance, fears, and at times, complete abandonment of common sense. I hope you enjoy reading these stories and come to the same conclusion I did as I lived them: there truly is a God. You will see that God's hand was on me continually, and you will, as I did, wonder why He would bother continuing to rescue me from the scrapes I got myself into.

On the Light Side

Good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment.

As we know, experience can be summed up as the total mistakes one has made. To say one has a lot of experience is to say that he has made a lot of mistakes. With this in mind, I can assure you that I have a lot of experience.
Chapter 1

A Pilot is Born

When I was ten years old, my father, Jesse Earl Smith, gave me a plastic, ready-to-fly airplane for Christmas, an Aeromite. After Dad tried to fly it a couple times, he said, "Aero might and Aero might not."

I think Dad wanted to be able to fly, but as I got older and became interested in flying, Dad said the Aeromite model airplane had corrupted me, and there was no longer any hope for me. My father was a machine operator; He could get on any machine, and if he had the opportunity to run it for a while, he knew what it could do and how to make it do anything else that was possible. He was an operator, not just someone who could run machines. Dad was also very negative and critical of me while I was living at home and working for him.

I have heard it said and said it myself that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who think the airplane is just a fast way to get somewhere, and others who live, think and totally love the idea of being able to fly. I fell hopelessly into the latter category. I also learned how to make a small fortune: "start with a large one and get involved in aviation."

Two of the most dangerous things a beginning pilot deals with are his lack of knowledge in flying the airplane, or inexperience, and his ego. By the grace of God, I outlived these, but not without my share of bad landings and other turbulence.

Career Summary

From the late 1940s through the 50s, I attended the Christian Church in Pearl, Illinois. I went forward at the invitation in 1957 at the age of fifteen. I knew God existed and believed that I should go forward and accept Him as my Lord and Savior, but didn't know enough to face the world and all the stuff the devil would put in my way.

I have tried at different churches to encourage the leadership to have a new convert's class to help keep others from failing as I did. I knew I was supposed to live a godly life; I knew the good things I was supposed to do, as well as the bad things I shouldn't do. But try as I might, I kept doing bad things which led me to think that I was going to hell no matter what. I prayed for forgiveness and thought I was back on track, and before I knew it, I sinned again. Once more I thought, "What's the use? I can't make it." I knew I was going to hell.

I didn't know about God's forgiveness, and as a result, I became angry at God for making it so difficult for me to live a good life. I didn't know that God cannot cause me to do bad things, or that God can only do good things for us. If anything bad happened, it was because of the temptations that the devil put before me and my lack of standing my ground for God and saying no to the bad things. So even though I was quite regular in attending church, I just wasn't growing in the faith.

I started flying in 1963, obtained my commercial and flight instructor certificates, and started doing some flight instruction in 1966. I got my first professional pilot job in 1967, in Pekin, Illinois. In 1971, I moved my family, Sara, Skyler, Robert and Kayla, to Lake of the Ozarks. By 1978 I had a Fixed Base Operation (FBO) where we were doing flight training, air-taxi, banner towing, airplane rental and some Ag plane operations. We had a going and growing business, but I still wasn't thanking and praising God like I should have been.

In 1978, I received a divine call to put together a missionary pilot training and support organization. I heard the call, made some plans to follow through, but then let the devil distract me with business and fun things. (Sinning can be so much fun, but I can't afford it, and neither can you.) I continued scheduling customers and making plans for 1979, having fun, hunting, fishing and other things, but not doing what God had called me to do. On April 29 I was in an Ag plane crash (crop duster to some).

I went to church regularly, put my tithes in the offering plate, and put on a good front. At the same time, I was envious of the non-Christian people who seemed to have a going business, a lovely wife and family, and fun-filled life. Christians had something that I truly desired, but it seemed that I couldn't have it. No one explained about God's saving grace, or maybe it was that I managed to avoid all that as I turned my back on God. He never quit watching over me and eventually got my full attention.

I seemed to be flying across an ocean of death, and no matter which way I turned or how far or fast I went, I felt destined to die there. I didn't know that God had a plan for me, but God protected me and carried me to the point that I would realize His plan for me.

I got a wake-up call and another chance to put together a missionary pilot-training program in 1993 and fly for my Lord and Savior. Looking back on the events in this book and many more, I am thankful for those who prayed for God to watch over me as I was living out the years when I wasn't willing to follow God's direction for my life.

Time has a way of deteriorating the facts. To quote a line from well-known minister Seth Wilson, "Eating birthday cake causes loss of memory." However, some of these flights made such an impression on me that it seems like they happened recently. In most of the stories I didn't realize how serious the situation was until afterward.

Early Flying Lessons - 1963

"Son, you're going to have to make up your mind about growing up and becoming a pilot. You can't do both." The words came back to me. I am a slow learner, and you will see I never did grow up, I just got old. You will also see I am a "borrowed-time believer."

One bright and beautiful summer day when Sara and I were riding around, we went to the Alton, Illinois, airport. When we drove into the parking area, I noticed that they were advertising an introductory flight lesson for five dollars, and the flying bug bit me right then. With my heart pounding, I asked Sara if we could afford this and if she would go if that were an option.

I don't know if I would have gone without her as we did most things together. Five dollars was a lot of money for us. The instructor told us that we could take the introductory lesson in a four-place airplane so Sara could go. This was Sara's first airplane ride ever. Wow, what an experience; I was hooked.

On the way home, we had to stop for gas for the car in Grafton, Illinois. While at the station (we had service stations then), I asked the attendant if he knew anyone in the area who did flight training. He told me there was a man who managed the orchard on top of the hill who did flight training. This sounded like a good idea; I thought that being out in the country the rates would be cheaper, and it would save several miles each trip because it was closer than Alton.

The station attendant told me to go north on Hwy. 13 to the top of the first big hill and look for a sign that said Nugent and Schapanski Orchard and take the lane to the left to a house. We did as instructed and found some ponds, metal buildings (one of which had an airplane in it), and a brick house. Some people were working outside, so I stopped and asked if anyone knew who did flight training. The man I was talking to told me to come with him, and he would introduce me to John Surgeon.

Little did I know how many advantages I would receive because of coming here. God knew. John was a fighter-pilot instructor during World War II, and as far as I know, one of the best our country had. John did his full four years in the Army Air Corps in Florida.

I scheduled a flight lesson for the next week, hoping I would have the twelve dollars for an hour of flight instruction in John's Cessna 170. At this time, I was hoping to get a regular job where I could make one dollar an hour or around forty dollars a week. The C-170 is a four-place, tail wheel airplane with manual flaps, all of which make it a pretty good bush plane. I didn't have a clue that tail wheel airplanes were difficult to fly, nor that a quarter-mile-long strip with trees close on both sides and a fence and power lines on both ends made this a short, obstructed strip. The power lines were set back from the fence far enough that we were always able to climb over them. John did, however, tell me that when I was flying solo, if I wasn't sure I was going over them, to make sure I turned inside of them or went under them; in other words, don't fly into them.

With Sara and me both working and saving all we could and by supplementing our grocery bills with wild game and fish, I managed to fly thirteen hours in twelve months. This flight time included about extra four hours John gave me when he took me on a cross-county trip to Champagne, Illinois, where he went to college. This was John's way of giving me four hours of instruction that he knew we couldn't afford. "Thank you John."

The airplane John had was a 1952 Cessna 170B.

On the Light Side:

You start flying with an empty bag of experience and a full bag of luck. The trick is to fill your bag of experience before you empty your bag of luck.

As you will see, I didn't use luck. When we came back for my first official lesson, John asked if Sara would like to ride along. I asked Sara, and she did. Sara went with us on several of my lessons. She turned a little pale a time or two when we were doing stall and turn practice, but overall she did well, and I was glad to have her along.

Time came for me to get some serious takeoff and landing training. John took us across the Mississippi and south to Smartt Field, which was a World War II training base for navy pilots. This base had three pairs of parallel runways with 120º heading differences, the ends of each touching the ends other runways, forming a six-pointed star. A taxi-way encircled the whole airport, joining the ends of all the runways. This airport looked a little bit like the star of David. Each runway was two thousand feet long. Navy pilots didn't need to do cross-wind landings, but had to be able to take off and land with heavily loaded fighters and bombers from a carrier deck. This was an ideal place for a basic student to learn to fly because a runway long enough and into the wind was always available for the type of plane we were flying. We did some of my training flights at the Jerseyville, Illinois, city airstrip which was eighteen hundred feet long and a hundred feet wide and had little traffic. This grass strip was lighted, so I got my night training here as well.

First Solo Flight

The first solo is a very special event for every student pilot, one that is anxiously anticipated and one of the most remembered flights the pilot will ever make. When your instructor tells you this is the day, you start wondering about everything that could go wrong.

As it turned out, my seat latch released just as the airplane lifted off. The pilot seat in this airplane rolled back about eighteen inches, making it impossible to properly fly the airplane. This could have had a disastrous outcome, but thanks to God and the good instruction John had given me, I made the right moves, got the seat pulled back into position and latched, regained control of the plane, and continued to make three takeoffs and landings.

Because of the seat latch letting go, FAA (Federal Aviation Agency) issued an airworthiness directory for a special inspection of the seat tracks on the Cessna airplanes. Cessna lost a large damages lawsuit because of an accident in a case where a court agreed that Cessna had made a bad airplane in 1947, and it killed its pilot in the early eighties. I have been flying Cessnas since 1963, and the only time I ever had a seat latch let go was when I didn't properly engage it.

What Could Have Happened?

If I had continued trying to pull my seat up by pulling on the control yoke, the airplane would have stalled and crashed on its nose. Had I done this, needless to say, I would not be writing this story.

My guardian angel took care of me on my very first solo flight.

This was truly a practice run as there are many more to follow when I either lacked wisdom or simply didn't apply it.

Get wisdom, get understanding: forget it not; neither decline from the words of my mouth. Forsake her not, and she shall preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep thee (Proverbs 4:5-6).

On the Light Side:

Learn from the mistakes of others. You won't live long enough to make all of them yourself.

Never let an aircraft take you somewhere your brain didn't get to five minutes earlier.

A good landing is one from which you can walk away. A great landing is one after which they can use the plane again.

It's always better to be down here wishing you were up there, than up there wishing you were down here.

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1953 Piper Tri-Pacer 135
Chapter 2

My First Airplane

I don't remember the date I actually purchased the Tri-Pacer, but it was while Sara was pregnant with Skyler. I couldn't afford to fly much, but I was working a little more and hanging out at airports. I heard about a 1953 Tri-Pacer for sale. The airplane was to sell with a hangar at Jerseyville, Illinois. Chuck Bunting had moved the Tri-Pacer to Cape Girardeau, Missouri, to have them sell it. Dad drove me there to look at the plane and maybe buy it. Once again my banker was willing to help with the financing.

When I told the guy at Cape Girardeau I wanted to buy the Tri-Pacer (N2603A), he asked me if I was a licensed pilot. I told him I was a student pilot. The instructor then asked me if I had soloed in a Tri-Pacer. My answer was no, I had never been in one before.

The instructor told me that I had to be soloed in each make and model as long as I was a student pilot. I thought I was stuck. I wouldn't be able to take the plane home that day. The instructor told me that he would go with me, and if I could fly him around the airport and land without him helping me, he would sign my license and my log book so I could legally fly the airplane.

This all went well and my paper work was signed off. Then he asked if I had been signed off for cross country, and once again the answer was no. He asked if I had a chart to get home, and I told him that I had a road map. He smiled and said he would get me a sectional chart and help me figure my trip, but he wouldn't have time to go with me on the cross country. The cross country went well, and I had the plane in the hangar when Dad got there. Apparently, I flew faster than he drove. Dad had a nearly-new, 1963 Dodge Custom 880; this was probably the nicest car that my family ever had.

What Could Have Happened?

I could have had a problem with the airplane that I knew virtually nothing about. I could have gotten lost, run out of gas, and crashed somewhere.

Just lucky? Or do you suppose my guardian angel guided me on this one?

I flew when I could. In 1964, a student pilot could fly into a controlled airport. Because I had my sights set on becoming a commercial pilot, perhaps an airline pilot, I flew into Lambert airport now and then to gain experience with the radio and phraseology. I think all civil towers used 118.5 mc (megacycles) for the tower, and my radio had one of those.

The first time I flew into Lambert was in the C-170 with John Surgeon. His plane didn't have a VHF (Very High Frequency) receiver, so I had to call on 118.5 and ask for a count on low frequency so I could tune in the tower. My Tri-Pacer had four frequencies on the VHF radio.

I went to the FBO on the west side of the airport one day for a Coke and to watch the large airplanes take off and land, as well as the fighters. The F-4 Phantom II was the fighter of the time, and I watched a flight of four of them take off. I thought the whole world had exploded when they hit the afterburners on takeoff. After that show, I decided it was time to go home to Jerseyville, Illinois. I started my Tri-Pacer and taxied out for takeoff. The FBO was near the departure end of Runway 12. The tower had me taxi to the runway, wait for a DC-7 to take off, and then cleared me to take off with the caution of wake turbulence.

I had read a little about wake turbulence, and John had briefly explained it to me as a horizontal tornado, but I had never experienced it. I didn't really know what to expect. John had gone far enough with his explanation to let me know that it could roll your plane upside down. If that were to happen, he said not to pull back on the yoke while inverted, but wait until you are coming back right side up, then pull out of it.

On this take off, my wisdom was telling me to stay low and gain as much speed as possible to give me better control of my plane in case I did get into wake turbulence. Wrong answer! I hit the right side of the vortex at around fifty feet altitude and approximately 100 mph. In a split second, I was upside down; I didn't do anything until I saw the sky above me, and then I violently pulled the yoke back, broke free of the vortex, and turned north toward Jerseyville. Wow! What a lesson! Thanks to God and my guardian angel once again.

What could have happened?

I could have done the classic error on top of the one I had just done and pulled back on the yoke while inverted. I would have crashed on the runway below.

Paul Carpenter's Strip

A farmer by the name of Paul Carpenter owned a farm near Pleasant Hill, Illinois. He had a very nice airstrip on it and I had permission to move my plane there. Carpenter's strip was much closer to home, and I spent a lot of my time working for the farmers near Pleasant Hill so it would be quite an advantage for me to keep my plane there.

Carpenter's airstrip was one of the nicest airstrips I have seen or used. It was very smooth, a hundred feet wide and twenty-five hundred feet long. There was a fairly low power line across the north end and nothing but a bean field at the south end. At night, Paul would put out five smudge pots on each side of the strip. Oh yes, we stayed current at night, and I learned early that flying at night is great fun because of the beauty of the night sky, the lights on the ground, the outlines of the hills, and the reflections on the river. We were within four miles of the Mississippi River, and Lookout Point at Clarksville was across the river and had a bright light on it which was almost directly south of Paul's north/south airstrip. These were some of the best days of my life and my flight time pleasures.

Sara and I came out quite often to fly around and enjoy being together, looking down on God's creation from above. One of the longer trips we took was to Starved Rock State Park near Utica, Illinois.

I cannot find any record of the airstrip on Plum Island, but if you go to Google Earth and search for Starved Rock State Park, you can zoom in on Plum Island and clearly see where the airstrip was. After we landed, we walked to a cable-supported, swinging bridge and crossed to the park with our picnic goodies. This became another precious memory.

Later I learned the reason it was called Starved Rock. According to legend, the Ottawa and the Potawatomi tribes chased the Illini Indians and besieged them until they all starved to death sometime in the eighteenth century. Thus, the name became Starved Rock.

Moving N2603A to Carpenter's Airstrip

Time came to move our airplane to Carpenter's airstrip. By this time, I had been flying the little Tri-Pacer for several months and had heard many negative remarks by other pilots: it would fall out of the sky without power; it's a Flying Milk Stool; it glides like a man-hole cover; it can't get high enough to get over a tall tree; and a whole lot more.

It was a beautiful, early spring day. Temperature was cool, and I was excited about flying again, as well as getting the little plane closer to home. I pre-flighted 03A (03A is the Tri-Pacer.), started it and taxied to the runway, which at the city of Jerseyville, Illinois, airport is a nice eighteen-hundred-foot grass strip. After warm-up and pre-takeoff check, I proceeded to the runway and took off.

I had about half a load of fuel in the tanks or approximately two hours, and the flight was short, 34 NM. The little airplane seemed to jump into the air and was climbing very well, which made me think about all those negative stories about my plane. I headed northwest toward Pleasant Hill, Illinois, and trimmed up for climb at 75 mph. I noticed the altimeter was moving upward rather quickly, so I thought I might as well climb for a while on this trip.

John Surgeon taught me that to conserve fuel we didn't normally climb any higher than necessary for a safe flight. I initially thought I would level at 10,000 feet, but when I got to 10,000, the little airplane was climbing so well I decided I would let it go for a while longer. I reduced the indicated airspeed to 70 mph; I knew it couldn't go high enough to be a problem.

I didn't know, however, anything about hypoxia, oxygen or any of that stuff, and this was just a ground-loving Tri-Pacer. At 12,000 feet, it sure was getting cold so I turned on the heater and leaned the mixture, which picked up quite a bit of power. The altimeter was still moving pretty good, and at 14,000 feet, I turned on a little more heat, reduced the indicated airspeed to 65 mph and was really enjoying the view.

Back in those days, it was a hazy day when you couldn't see 50 or more miles. From where I was at this point over the Illinois River, I could see Quincy, Illinois; Hannibal, Missouri; Jacksonville, Illinois, and many more places, including my destination, Pleasant Hill, Illinois. I was at 15,000 feet and still climbing. Wow! Leaned the mixture again and picked up a bit more power. I don't remember anything about feeling bad from the altitude or anything like that. I climbed to 16,500 feet, and the climb rate was getting slow. Didn't have a VSI (vertical speed indicator) on board; I don't know how high I could have gone that day, but decided this was enough for now and leveled off to make a few turns and enjoy the scenery below.

After a few minutes of looking around, I recalled something about the glide ratio on a Tri-Pacer, so I applied carburetor heat, idled the engine, trimmed out for a glide, and headed for Pleasant Hill which was still about 15 miles away. I arrived over Carpenter's strip with about 3,000 feet of altitude to spare which seemed like the little airplane could glide for a while if need be. I hadn't considered the light airplane with half tanks of fuel and a 115 pound pilot. I hadn't had any training on things like density altitude, wing loading or other performance information, oxygen requirements, or altitude effects on a pilot's ability to function.

What Could Have Happened?

I could have passed out or simply lost the sense of control of the airplane and ultimately crashed.

I think guardian angels should get paid overtime.

Aviator note for pilots:

The PA22 series of airplanes (Tri-pacers and Colts) are in the Short Wing Pipers group, twenty-nine feet of wingspan and a corresponding small wing area. I believe they use the 35 B airfoil which is a high lift design. These airplanes, when they are light, do perform very well. As you load them, however, the performance falls off rapidly.

First Son

Our first son, Skyler, was born August 3, 1964 in the Jerseyville, Illinois, hospital. I had been flying on July 29 and was still at Carpenter's airstrip when Sara called me. Her water broke, and she needed me to take her to the hospital. I drove Sara to Jerseyville in Dad's Dodge Custom 880 to give her a smoother ride and lessen the possibilities of car trouble than if I had taken her in our pickup.

Sara was in labor for six days; I spent most of those days at the hospital and frequently went in to check on Sara. She was in no mood for company at this time. As far as I knew, it wasn't a common thing for a father to watch the birth of his child, another of the great things I missed in life. Sara and Skyler came through just fine.

I flew the Tri-Pacer whenever I could find the time and had gas money. I worked during the non-frozen months with my dad Jesse Smith, who owned Smith's Construction Service. He had a bulldozer, dragline, gravel-screening plant, a couple dump trucks and miscellaneous tools and other equipment.

In the frozen or muddy part of the year, I worked for Jerry Guthrie at Guthrie's Garage in Pleasant Hill, Illinois. Jerry had a desire to get his pilot's license, but hadn't really started on it and was willing to pay the expenses to fly with me. This helped me get a lot of the hours I needed to get my commercial pilot certificate and my flight instructor certificate. "Thanks Jerry."

I was asked to speak at Jerry's funeral service a few years ago. Jerry never did get his pilot certificate. Speaking at his funeral was a very difficult thing for me to do.

No one ever mentioned flying an airplane on auto fuel back in those days. The closest airport to where I kept the Tri-Pacer, when it wasn't at Jerseyville or at Paul Carpenter's strip at Pleasant Hill, Illinois, was at Bowling Green, Missouri, about twenty-five miles west. I could get 80-octane aircraft fuel for about thirty cents a gallon when auto fuel was eighteen cents, which made aircraft fuel seem terribly expensive. I flew quite a few hours in the Tri-Pacer in 1964 and 1965. I occasionally would land at John Surgeon's strip for a visit, and when I was getting close to time for my private checkride, I flew with John. John had given me a few minutes of simulated instrument flying in his Cessna, which had only one gyro, a rate-of-turn indicator. He told me I would have to do part of my checkride on instruments, so I decided one day to fly into a cloud.

Tri-Pacer in a Cloud

That day I saw some clouds and thought, well, John taught me how to fly in clouds while limiting the view on the Cessna with blue plastic on the windows and yellow glasses over my eyes. I couldn't see anything outside, but could see the panel. I didn't know this was a very minimal panel. So, I flew into a small cloud and thought I was doing fine, but then things didn't feel at all right. I didn't have any idea what was wrong, and the next thing I saw out of the top of my windshield was the ground below me. All I could think of was to pull back on the yoke and get the plane right side up again.

What Could Have Happened?

In the process of pulling back on the yoke when the airplane was inverted, I caused the airplane to dive straight at the ground. When the airplane is inverted, the normal control pressure that would make the airplane go up makes it go down. I was high enough this time to complete a half loop without hitting the ground. Another very good possibility was that I could have overloaded the wings and broken them.

It's better to break ground and head into the wind than to break wind and head into the ground.

Another wrong answer and once again my guardian angel saved the day and humbled me; I hoped he didn't get tired of looking after me.

Basic Flying Rules:

  * Try to stay in the middle of the air. 
  * Do not go near the edges of it.
  * The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees and interstellar space. It is much more difficult to fly there.

Note: I almost got too near the edges of it!

I got more instrument time, more flight-time building, and more practice on the private pilot maneuvers. I thought I was doing well and didn't think I could possibly fail a checkride for private pilot in the Tri-Pacer. It still hadn't registered with me that the Piper Wing didn't really stall. I had noticed that the Tri-Pacer didn't have a stall warning, but didn't have a clue as to why not.

When the time for my private pilot practical test got close, I realized that the Tri-Pacer was out of annual. I checked around and found out that Harry Dorsey from Jacksonville, Illinois, would come to Paul Carpenter's strip to do an annual. Harry had been doing the annuals for Paul for a few years. Harry found that the detents on the fuel selector valve on the Tri-Pacer would not pass the annual, so that put the Tri-Pacer out for the practical test. I would have to schedule another time or find another plane.

The examiner I had scheduled was working out of the Collinsville, Illinois, airport, and he had a C-150 available for rent (another type of airplane I had never been in). I rented it for the checkride and proceeded to fail the stalls part of the test.

God has a way of humbling His people; I needed this one for sure. I now know why the Tri-Pacer doesn't have a stall warning. Unless you aggravate it a lot, it doesn't really stall; it just gets a steeper sink rate with little or no buffet, and the Cessna stalls.

I drove to Lambert Airport to a Piper dealer there and picked up a new fuel valve for the Tri-Pacer. Got the annual finished, got back to more practice and another checkride, not taking anything for granted and passed it this time.

God did it again, Praise the Lord.
Chapter 3

Various Airstrips

Preacher Robert (Bob) Gulledge

Bob was the minister at Pleasant Hill Christian Church, as well as a pilot. Preacher Bob had a 1946 Aeronca Champ that was getting pretty tired; the engine was high-time, and the fabric was marginal at best, but Bob and his wife flew the Champ with no problem out of Paul's airstrip. Bob enjoyed sharing his airplane and his flying skills with anyone who wanted to go flying. I have good memories of Bob and his family. Bob went home to be with our Lord a couple of years ago. Bobby Gulledge, Bob's eldest son, is also a pilot and living at Marion, Illinois. I once had a flight scheduled that would get me home after dark, so I contacted Bob to light the smudge pots for my night return to Carpenter's strip. Bob agreed he would do that for me. I left in the morning and took care of my business. As the day wore on, I started getting a fever and was feeling very bad by the time I could head for home. I remember flying over the light at Lookout Point in Clarksville, Missouri, which is nearly due south of Carpenter's airstrip. I turned north and started my time to Carpenter's landing area.

The weather was clear and calm, with no moon. In about a minute and a half, I saw a light that I thought was the one at the Carpenters' home, which was near the south end of the airstrip. If it was, I should have been seeing the smudge pots, but I couldn't.

My fever was pretty high by that time, and I didn't feel like going back to St. Louis or anywhere else if Bob had forgotten to put out the smudge pots. I continued north, looking for the lights, which I didn't see. I decided that when I knew for sure the pole light I was looking at was at the Carpenters' house, I would let down to about a hundred feet, turn on my landing lights, look for the strip and land.

When I was about a half mile from where I believed the strip was, I saw a car drive up and a small light go to where I thought the edge of the strip might be and another, even smaller light, go to the other side and stop. As I got closer, I knew it was the strip. I lowered my flaps, slowed to approach speed, and landed without any incident.

Bob had put out two flashlights, one a 2-D cell light and the other a 2-AA cell light, which were enough for this time. When I got home, my fever was 104º. Bob told me that he had forgotten to light the smudge pots until it was too late, and he thought I was a good enough pilot to get in with two flashlights.

What Could Have Happened?

With the high fever, I could have become delirious (some would say I have always been that way). I could have failed to find the airstrip; I could have either failed to flare for the landing at the correct height and stalled the plane or failed to flare at all and damaged the nose gear and other parts of the plane.

Lucky again? I think you know by now the answer to this. Praise the Lord.

Discretion shall preserve thee, understanding shall keep thee (Proverbs 2:11)

Landing at Leed's Camp

Emmett (at least, I think that was his name) Leed had a camp on the Mississippi River and on the west side of Pike County, Illinois; there is also a Pike County, Missouri. Mr. Leed owned some land there with several cabins which were often inhabited. It was a place where a homeless person could stay and work for room and board, as well as a place for commercial fishermen to dock their boats and spend a night in a cabin.

Mr. Leed occasionally hired my father, Jesse Smith, to bring the dozer or the dragline to dig out the boat landing area or do some ditching. There was a farmer's airstrip about a quarter mile from Leed's camp. One spring day when the river was higher than normal, I decided to fly the Tri-Pacer to the farmer's airstrip and go for a visit at the camp. Paul Carpenter and Dad wanted to go along, so the three of us flew to the strip. I flew over it and could see it looked damp, but I didn't see any standing water. I decided to land (another one of those things I shouldn't have done). The landing roll was very short, but little Tri-Pacer didn't flip like it felt like it was going to.

Lucky again? I don't know if guardian angels get overtime or just overworked.

After our visit at the camp, we went back to the plane. I walked the strip, and some of it was very soft. I noticed where the more solid parts of it were and found out that it was only 970 feet long. If it was solid, that would be a short strip in a 135 horsepower Tri-Pacer. There was no wind sock, but John Surgeon, my first flight instructor, taught me to check the wind in various ways including the cheek method. This showed me the wind, even though light at less than 10 mph, was right on the runway. I knew we would need it on the nose and a whole lot more of that luck I'd been using to get in the air.

I got as far down to the end of the runway as possible, did a static run-up, set the mixture to maximum rpm, set one notch of flaps, released the brakes, and held the elevator full back. The nose wheel came up and balanced it on the mains. The airplane seemed to be accelerating, but not as fast as I had hoped. I hadn't even given a thought to choosing an abort point. As the airspeed was approaching 45 mph, we were very close to the end of the strip. I pulled full flaps and right at the end of the strip. The little airplane lifted three adults out of the mud, but barely above the soy beans in the field at the end of the strip.

About a quarter mile from the end of the strip were some very tall cottonwood trees that I knew I couldn't clear. Because of the type of training John gave me (we did a lot of slow flight and low and slow maneuvering), I made a low, still in ground effect, turn away from the trees, slowly lowered the nose, eased off the flaps to get up to normal climb speed and proceeded back to Paul's strip. I don't know about my passengers, but I am sure my pulse and blood pressure were at the redline on this one. The only picture I ever had of this Tri-Pacer had mud on the tires nearly up to the hub caps, and that mud came from the strip near Leed's camp.

What Could Have Happened?

Because of the very soft ground, the plane could have flipped on its back on landing. For the takeoff, with the soft ground and fairly heavy load, the most probable problem was that I might not have been able to get enough lift to get in the air before the end of the strip and nose the plane over in the crop at the end of the field. I did use some special procedures that got the plane into the air.

Also, I could have stalled the airplane and dropped it into the field from a higher altitude or hit some of the trees that were nearby. The nose over while on the ground would possibly not have caused serious injuries, but if I had stalled the airplane at higher altitude and dropped it in, it could have been very serious; or if I had hit the trees, it would most likely have killed us.

Lucky again? I think we know God spared a foolish pilot one more time!

Terraced Airstrip?

My Grandpa Smith had a farm north of Pearl, Illinois. I thought it would be fun to fly over and see the farm where I spent a lot of my growing up years. I had been all over Pike County, so it was no problem to find Grandpa's farm. After flying over the farm a couple of times, I thought I would like to land and go in for a short visit.

I didn't see any fields on Grandpa's farm that looked suitable for landing, so I made a low pass down the gravel road in front of Grandpa's house. This road looked pretty good, but it was pretty narrow and had power and phone line poles on one side that were quite close to the road. What little judgment I had told me not to try this one.

As I pulled up from looking at the road, I noticed that the neighbor had a pasture that looked promising, so I made a low pass over it. It still looked good; the wind was favoring to land east, so I could approach from the west and try to get the plane on as soon as possible after crossing the north/south fence. However, I came in too fast and didn't get it on as quickly as I needed to, but didn't even consider going around a second time.

I put it on the pasture, grabbed the brake handle and locked them up. Before I knew it, the nice flat pasture I had landed on became a roller coaster as I went down the hill jumping terraces. My mind flashed many agonizing thoughts in a record short time, like an airplane lying on its back and on fire. Each time the wheels got on the ground, the airplane slowed a little more; then, over another terrace and we were airborne again. The plane stopped at the last terrace which was just before the trees at the edge of the field.

I don't really know why, but I just sat there for a while thinking about all those visions I had while bounding over those terraces. After a while, I carefully taxied back up to the flat part of the field and selected the most useable length for takeoff. I took off; at this point, I didn't feel like going to see my grandma, who may have been watching and thinking her foolish grandson nearly killed himself.

What Could Have Happened?

As I mentioned, the plane could have flipped and possibly burned. I was moving fairly fast when I first started jumping the terraces.

I really think a guardian angel, who gets someone like me to look after, certainly deserves to get some bonus pay!

Hayfield Landing near Old Pearl

Oren Smith (not my family) had a farm and several hayfields on the hill near Old Pearl, Illinois, where I used to land to meet friends and family. It was just one of those flying-farmer things to pick a hayfield and use it for an airport. We did it for the fun, and then maybe go for a walk in the woods, have a picnic or enjoy the quiet.

One Foot on the Ground

My friend and part time employer Jerry Guthrie serviced automotive, agricultural and other types of equipment in his garage. This particular flight fits with the light side and certainly foolishness on my part. Jerry owned a garage at Pleasant Hill, Illinois. As a result, he had numerous people who came through his garage. One person claimed that he had never been up in an airplane and wasn't going to.

That started the rest of the conversation. Jerry offered him an airplane ride in my airplane from Paul Carpenter's airstrip. This individual made it clear that the only way he would go up in an airplane would be if it stayed low enough that he could put one foot on the ground any time he wanted to. This started the ball rolling as Jerry and I started in on the guy telling him that we would fly close enough to the ground that he could do that any time he wanted to.

We drove out to Carpenter's strip, untied the airplane, pre-flighted it, and loaded the guy in the backseat. Next we showed him how to open the door where the grab handles were and instructed him that anytime he wanted to, he could open the door, step out on the step, and put one foot on the ground. So far we hadn't given him a way to back out.

I taxied to the north end of Carpenter's strip in order to take off to the south over the bean field that was only two feet high. The first bean field was a half mile long, and we had to clear a fence. Then we flew over another bean field which was fairly long as well.

After about three bean fields, this passenger in the back seat tapped me on the shoulder and told me it would be okay for me to "take-er up" now while he looked over my shoulder at the Cottonwood and Burr Oak trees on the riverbank ahead. In a few minutes our passenger saw the beauty of the Mississippi River and the bluff at Lookout Point at Clarksville, Missouri. Because our passenger appeared to be so happy, we extended the flight for another half an hour, flying over the fields around Pleasant Hill before going back to the airstrip to land. I don't remember if this fellow ever took another airplane ride with us, but he made comments that it was certainly much different than he had ever expected it to be.

What Could Have Happened?

We could have encountered a wind shear. This is a rapid shift in wind direction or velocity that could have caused an abrupt altitude change. It might have caused me to hit a fence or drop into the crop that was just inches below us for most of the early part of this flight.

Because I flew very low, there was no room for a power failure, wind shear, downdraft or any sort of misjudgment. We barely cleared the fences. I did other foolish things on this flight too.

God and my guardian angel watched over us. Praise the Lord.

Dub Polston

Dub Polston was one of the town drunks in Pleasant Hill, Illinois. He often hung out at Guthrie's garage. One spring day, Dub came by Guthrie's garage and, as usual, had his whiskey bottle in his pants pocket. Jerry started teasing him about taking an airplane ride, and I thought that was an okay idea. I agreed to do that, and we went to the airport.

Before we left for the airport, however, Jerry got the idea that we should get some of Dub's old whiskey bottles he had thrown in the trash and fill them with ice tea without the ice. Dub was also a heavy smoker, so he carried a whiskey bottle in his pants pocket and a pack of cigarettes and lighter in his shirt pocket. We gathered up Dub with his usual stuff and went to the airport. By this time, it was night.

We serviced the smudge pots, serviced the airplane, put Dub in the backseat, and took off. It was a beautiful clear night to fly over the Mississippi River bottoms. I climbed to about 6000 feet and leveled off. Dub was in the backseat smoking a cigarette and sipping on his whiskey.

It was clear with visibility unlimited, a beautiful night for the flight over the Mississippi River Valley near Pleasant Hill, Illinois. We were enjoying the site, the scenery, and the smooth ride when all peacefulness was broken. Dub dropped his cigarette between his seat and the upholstery near the wall, and it caught fire. After the fire had started, Dub turned around and put the fire out with his bare hands.

After this bit of excitement, it took a little while for things to calm down. I never did like fire in my airplane, especially a cloth airplane at night at 6000 feet. We calmed down after we were sure the fire was out and enjoyed our ride for a while. For Dub's benefit, we got out our whiskey bottles full of tea and started sipping on them and acting like we were getting really drunk. Before long, Dub started asking us to put the bottle down. He told us we didn't need that stuff. As soon as Dub realized what we were doing with our whiskey bottle, he put his away. We never did tell Dub it was tea. Our demonstration had sobered Dub up a lot, even if only temporarily.

What Could Have Happened?

I have reason to believe that if Dub hadn't been able to extinguish that fire, it would have been a short, hot and very fast trip to the fields below with no survivors.

God and my guardian angel deserve another great big thanks.

Expensive Hamburger and Coke

One day when I was working in the shop for Jerry, he suggested that we should go flying the next day. I didn't have to think about that for very long and agreed that we should. We decided to meet at Carpenter's strip early and make a day of it.

It was winter with the temperature in the twenties and clear and calm. When Jerry showed up at the airstrip, he had his cousin Phil with him. Phil had decided he would like to go and offered to pay for part of the gas for the trip.

After we took off, I asked Jerry where he would like to go. With only a short pause, he came back with, "I think we should go to Birmingham, Alabama, for a hamburger."

I didn't have charts for this trip, so we headed south and flew to the edge of the charts I did have. We made a stop (I can't remember where) for charts and fuel and went on to Birmingham. We had our hamburger, took off again and once again I asked where they wanted to go. I believe it was Phil that said, "Let's go to Peoria for a coke."

This time I had charts for the trip, but we had to stop for fuel before we could make it there. We weren't in the air very long this time before one of my passengers needed to make a used coffee stop. I don't remember where on this one either. (Remember, eating birthday cake causes loss of memory.) It was getting to be a long day by the time we got to Peoria and had been dark for a while. The weather was still clear, unlimited and smooth. We were tired, but enjoying a beautiful ride in my Tri-Pacer (paper Piper). We landed at Peoria just before 22:00; Byerly Aviation was located on the southeast corner of the airport at that time and open until 22:00.

After loading 33 gallons of fuel in our airplane (36 gal. max.), the attendant told us he had something in their hangar he wanted to show us. Being curious, we went with him. What we saw was a Piper Comanche that was torn up beyond recognition. The man who pumped our gas told us it had run out of gas while he was on an approach to Runway 30 to PIA (identifier for Peoria Airport) and landed in downtown Bartonville. There were four people in the plane; all but the pilot survived.

This was a lesson I should have learned better and sooner than I did. We had a good flight back to Carpenter's airstrip; Paul had lit the smudge pots for us. "Thanks Paul for all your help."

What Could Have Happened?

Fuel exhaustion could have caused a crash at night. We had approximately a half hour of fuel on board when we landed, which is not enough.

Thanks again for God's watch care on this flight which was tiring, educational and for the most part enjoyable. Still a pleasant memory.

Surprise for Grandma

I was so excited about having an airplane and a pilot license that I wanted to share it with everyone, especially my favorite people, and Grandma Smith was one of my favorite people. Grandma knew about my airplane, but I could tell by the way she commented that she didn't really think it was a good idea. Grandma was seventy-eight years old at this time.

Grandma was one of those people who would go along with almost anything for one of her grandchildren, and this was no exception. I asked her if she would like to see my airplane, and of course, she said she would.

Sara, Aunt Erma, and Grandma went with me to the strip to see the plane. We all got out and walked around the little Piper. Aunt Erma and Grandma looked at it and commented that it sure was a cute little plane. Then Grandma touched it and said, "Is that just cloth?"

I said yes; it was pretty obvious at this point that Grandma wasn't so sure that cloth should be holding an airplane together. I tried to put her mind at ease on this issue by reminding her that the first airplane that ever flew, and a lot between then and now, was covered with cloth, but the frame was of welded steel. I don't think this helped very much.

The next step, I asked Grandma if she and Aunt Erma would like to sit in the plane. There were obvious tones of displeasure on this; but to humor me, they got in the rear seat, which is much easier to get in than the front. I helped them in and put the seat belts on them. Then Sara and I got in front to show them it would hold four people. I suggested we should taxi out on the strip so they could see what it was like to taxi an airplane.

You can see where this is going. Grandma was on the side away from the door; otherwise, I think she may have bailed out by the time I started the engine. I taxied to the far north end of the strip, turned toward the south and opened the throttle. I could hear some sounds of disgruntlement coming from the back seat, but didn't understand what was being said and continued the takeoff.

The weather was clear and calm. I climbed as quickly as I could to get up to where the speed wasn't as obvious. I leveled off at about 2500 feet; the ground elevation here was about 400 feet. After a short while, Grandma said flying wasn't at all like she thought it would be. She thought it was fun, and she could see so far in all directions.

When I think about what I did that day, I am ashamed on one hand that I did that. I could have caused Grandma to have had a heart attack. On the other hand, she came from an age when there weren't any automobiles, electricity or any of the gadgets we take for granted today. Because of this flight, Grandma flew in an airplane. She died in 1978 at the age of 91.

What Could Have Happened?

Grandma could have freaked out and had a heart attack.

Praise the Lord for blessing this flight with safety and the good memories I have of this day.
Chapter 4

Gaining Experience and Hours

First Flight to Colorado

Jerry Guthrie paid for several of my flight hours to help me build the time I needed for my commercial license and flight instructor certificate. There is an old saying going around in pilot talk about the hundred-dollar hamburger. Jerry was willing to finance many hours going someplace to get a hamburger and a Coke. His cousin Philip Guthrie went with us on some of these trips. The Guthries had family who lived near Limon, Colorado; and they wanted me to fly them out there in the Tri-Pacer. Limon, Colorado, is where Highway 70 turns north to go to Denver, and Highway 24 separates to go south to Colorado Springs.

The three of us (Jerry, Phil and I) took off at four o'clock in the morning from Carpenter strip in Pleasant Hill, Illinois. We had fueled the airplane to full capacity the night before, so we were ready for an early start to head west to Colorado. We took off on a clear, cool morning with no wind; it was absolutely clear and smooth as glass at this hour.

The first leg of our flight was directly to Atchison, Kansas, which was a little over three hours. We had chosen this as our first fuel stop and thought we would be there about eight o'clock in the morning. Atchison was well on our way and our first out-of-state stop. By the time we got to Atchison, our smooth as glass and calm conditions were gone. The wind was gusting to 35 knots out of the west. The runway that was most into the wind was about a 45° angle to the wind, so we were landing with a 35 knot crosswind in the Tri-Pacer. Once again, I had to thank John Surgeon for the training he gave me in crosswind conditions because we successfully landed the airplane in those high winds without any mishaps.

We refueled the airplane and checked winds aloft for the flight to Colorado. The winds were going to be mostly on the nose and quite strong all away to Colorado; so we decided to make a fuel stop at Goodland, Kansas. I didn't know at that time that throttling back into a headwind was not a good thing to do because it causes the fuel consumption to go up rather than down.

Note: another lesson I learned on this trip was that when you're flying into a headwind, it is more economical to run higher power settings and reduce the exposure time to the wind which will in fact increase your fuel mileage.

Anyway, we rode five hours and twenty-two minutes and were utterly beaten black and blue by the time we got to Goodland, Kansas. When we got within radio range to contact Goodland radio, I called to ask for a Winds Aloft forecast. The briefer asked for the altitude, and I asked for three thousand. The briefer replied that three thousand would be below ground level! The elevation there was over 3600 feet. I am sure he knew he had someone from the lower elevation states to the east.

Jerry Guthrie's cousin Phil said it was like riding the agitator in a wringer type washing machine for that whole time. Phil quite often asked questions that had no easy answers. Sometimes I would give him a smart-aleck answer; on one of these occasions, he asked if you can do something (I don't remember what) with an airplane. I told him I don't think we can make it, but will give it a try. That put a stop to most of the dumb questions and gave me a little peace and quiet for the rest of the trip.

By the time we got to Flagler, Colorado, we started picking up structural icing. I had never experienced this before and was very unhappy about it to say the least. I didn't know what to do with it, and there were no airports near so I kept on. We made it to Limon, Colorado, and landed safely. I had heard stories about fatal crashes due to structural icing and was tempted to land in a field or on the highway, but God gave me the courage to continue to the airport. Since then, I have experienced structural icing that came very close to being fatal for me and a friend who was with me.

What Could Have Happened?

We could have been blown off course, taken on enough ice to bring us down or simply run out of fuel and had to make a forced landing somewhere.

With the high winds, turbulence and icing conditions, my guardian angel kept us alive and well one more time with several more lessons learned.

Work in Iowa

Things weren't working out for me to work for Dad. I was putting in many hard hours and getting very little pay with lots of complaints. Because of working for Jerry Guthrie, I found out about a construction company in Iowa that could use some maintenance help. Jerry's friend Logan Conner was a foreman for Cameron Joyce and Company, and they hired me.

By this time Sara, Skyler, and I were living in an 8 x 26 mobile home. We had a half ton, six-cylinder pickup to pull it, so we moved to Keokuk, Iowa, which was the home base for the company. This company was a road crew. Logan Conner was their shop foreman and Jerry Guthrie's friend.

Logan Conner, my boss, and his cousin Floyd Crowder were bosses for Cameron Joyce and Company. They gave me a pickup to drive and use in maintaining their fleet of equipment. After a couple of weeks, we got the 03A to Keokuk. After we got the plane to Iowa, we had a heavy thunderstorm with large hail, and I was afraid to go look my plane, but finally did. 03A was parked on a line with two other planes, a Stinson and a Cherokee. The Stinson was in shreds, and the Cherokee had major hail damage. 03A had a few small dents in the cowl, but the fabric was all intact. Apparently, the fabric was strong enough to bounce the hail off.

Praise the Lord for protecting the little airplane. It had to fly more hours to get me ready for my commercial and flight instructor checkrides.

As time went on, my bosses started expecting me to use my pickup for company work. Sara, Skyler, and I went home on weekends quite often. Our usual route to Pearl, Illinois, took us through Quincy and past a Chrysler dealer. On one of those trips home, a white, 1962 Chrysler 300 convertible caught our eye and cried out, "take me home."

This seemed like a good idea. It was possible for us to buy the convertible by trading in the pickup. The Chrysler had a trailer hitch on it, and it became our trailer-toter, and a good one I might add. It had much more weight and power than our pickup. We were at Keokuk for about a month, but then we hit the road for several different places around the state. Some of the jobs lasted a week; others lasted two or more weeks, but we moved often. We enjoyed our neighbors who moved with us each time as well as the new people at each destination.

One of the longer running jobs we had was at Marengo, Iowa. While we were there, Skyler found some of our Christmas ornaments and decided to eat them. When we saw the little guy, he had the broken glass all over him and in his mouth. Needless to say, Sara and I freaked out, loaded Skyler up in the Chrysler and made a very quick trip to the hospital.

I doubt that many cars went through Marengo any faster than that Chrysler 300 did. At the hospital emergency room, we told the doctor what had happened. After he quit laughing, he explained that a child eating glass wasn't the same thing as a dog eating glass; it wouldn't hurt Skyler at all. As it turned out, the doctor was right. Praise the Lord again.

Iowa had a very large group of active flying farmers. One of the fun things we did was to participate in the flying-famer meals and activities when we could. On some occasions, we could fly out to a farm for breakfast and some form of other entertainment; then go to another for lunch and entertainment, then to another for the evening meal. This was a lot of fun and took up the whole day.

Teaching Sara to Fly

I was still working on becoming a flight instructor whenever I had a chance to fly. One nice evening after work, I took Sara and had her flying in the left seat. I was teaching her to fly at night, but I made one terrible mistake. After three perfect takeoff and landing operations, I told her that she was doing a great job. She threw up her hands and has refused to fly anything since. This was a major disappointment to me because I had dreams of us having a flight operation someday with both of us flying.

One of the moves we made was to Tripoli, Iowa, in the northeastern part of the state. This was the last place we had the Tri-Pacer with us in Iowa. I had it parked at a flying-farmers strip. The strip had two runways, each 1320 feet (a quarter mile) long and nothing but a fence at either end. These strips are about the same length that I took my first official lesson from. One strip went along the east side and ran north and south. The other crossed about midfield and ran east and west.

The owner told me that one day another friend of his had his Aeronca Champ there and its carburetor flooded. He did the usual: open the throttle wide, turn the engine backward (The Champ has to be hand-propped/started.), close the throttle, turn the ignition on and turn the prop the direction that the engine runs. But he forgot to close the throttle, and the engine started right up and was wide open. The pilot managed to jump out of the way. The little airplane rose fast enough to get the tail up, then ground-looped and plowed most of the forty acres of alfalfa before hitting the fence. The land owner worked for John Deere at the Waterloo plant. That plant is where the original John Deere tractors were built – the Waterloo Boy tractors. This is the last airstrip we used away from home while working for Cameron Joyce and Company.

Last Flight for the Tri-pacer:

One Sunday morning, a friend of Jerry Guthrie's who was in the Army and serving as a jump instructor for the soldiers was home on leave. Let's call our jumper Bob(To be clear, I didn't make a habit of skipping church to go do fun things). On this morning, however, even though I had bad feelings about it, I did skip church. Bob had been talking to Jerry about skydiving and how much fun it was, and Jerry thought he was ready to try it.

Sara and I had flown the 03A home from Tripoli, Iowa, for the weekend, and Jerry wanted me to take them up to altitude and watch Bob make a jump. Then we would go up again, and Jerry and Bob would jump together. Sounded like a plan. We climbed to 2500 feet, came over the airstrip and dropped a drift marker/tissue. Then we climbed to 6500 feet and flew over the spot where Bob said he wanted to jump. When he jumped, he flipped onto his back and threw us a kiss. Then rolled over and was maneuvering as he went down. I looked over at Jerry, and he had his head in his hands and was saying, "I can't watch."

Needless to say, that was the only jump of the day. Sara had stayed with my mom in Pearl that morning, so I had to pick her up before I could go back to Iowa. I landed in a hay field on Old Pearl hill, picked Sara up, and headed back to Pleasant Hill to make a goodbye pass over the Guthrie's home. This route was close to the line I needed to use to get to Iowa. As we approached Pleasant Hill, a storm line had formed west of town and stretched north and south for some distance. I decided to stop and tie down until it passed.

My tiedown was east of Paul Carpenter's hangar. Skyler was standing in the right, front seat, and I was working on tying the plane down. Our friends had seen us coming in, so they came to see us. Sara went to the car where the Guthries were. A strong wind came up very quickly. I soon discovered two of the three tie-down chains were broken. Paul had hit the left wing chain and the tail chain when he mowed the area with the bush hog. These were heavy, tie-down chains, not the light, coil-link chains. Nevertheless, they were broken. I snapped the right wing chain, and as the wind picked up, it looked like the left wings were coming up, so I added my weight (all 120 pounds of it) to the left wing.

Sara was coming to get Skyler out of the plane when I yelled at her to have Jerry bring me some wire to fix the tiedowns. Sara grabbed Skyler, but by the time she got back to the car, a strong gust hit. I hung all my weight on the wing strut, but felt a need to let go and look behind me. As I did, I saw the hangar about three feet off its foundation and coming over me and the plane.

I decided it was time to leave, don't ya know. The grass was wet from the rain, and I had slick-soled shoes on, so I spun out and fell. I directed my fall to go under the 03A because I didn't have any other choice at the moment. In seconds, the hangar landed on my 03A, mashing it down on top of me and then blowing off and on its way to parts unknown. We later found part of this hangar a mile and a half away. I had no injuries, but the right wing tiedown was broken. I decided once again to make a run for it before the other end of the hangar got there.

This time when I started running, the wind hit from my right side with such force it tore the buttons off my shirt and ripped the metal hooks that held my pants together right off. It literally carried me out of the way, and the next batch of hangar parts landed where I had been standing. They inflicted more damage on the already totaled Tri-Pacer. After the storm, the sun came out, and I had a piece of binder twine to hold my pants up. I went back to see what was left.

The first thing I noticed was a plank driven through the windshield and out the side glass, exactly where little Skyler had been standing in the right front seat. Praise the Lord for saving our son. There was a large 8" x 10" x 8' beam driven through behind the rear seat, in one side and out the other. Most of the hangar was gone. The right wing chain on the plane was broken, and she turned into the wind with her fabric flapping. I had oil stains on my clothes where my 03A had pressed down on me while I was laying on the ground. Jerry loaned us one of his cars to drive to work that week. The Tri-Pacer was totaled, but it was insured. I call this a blessing, plus it gave me the hours I needed to get my commercial license. When I think about that day, I am painfully aware that this could have been the end of me. In addition to the boards/timbers driven through the airplane, there were places in the ground where some of the hangar sections had left some pretty deep holes near where I was.

What Could Have Happened?

Skyler could have been killed by the planks that went through the plane. I could have been hit by the hangar parts. The landing gear on the plane could have broken and put the full weight of the hangar parts on me.

Thanks to God and my guardian angel.

I knew I shouldn't skip church to go fly. This lesson has helped me say no to other situations on Sunday mornings. Praise the Lord for His grace and mercy. This was our last job for Cameron Joyce and Company.
Chapter 5

Life Without the Tri-Pacer

Rockford

I hadn't been getting many hours of work and was only making about two dollars an hour. We were making payments on our mobile home and our 1962 Chrysler 300, so we had very little money to make the trip to Rockford. Our tires were worn, and the trailer had a wood frame and steel skin, making it very heavy. It only had one axle on it. The Chrysler was mechanically able to tow the trailer, but its tires were also worn. Sara, bless her heart, never complained about anything at that time and did all she could to make things work.

It was raining when we left Tripoli, Iowa, and headed for Rockford, Illinois. Sara had packed some food and drinks for the trip. We had a foam ice chest and the refrigerator in the trailer to use for cold storage. The trailer's refrigerator only ran on 110 volts. We hadn't gone very far when the trailer's right tire blew out.

The shoulder was barely wide enough to get the trailer off the road. As soon as I pulled on the shoulder, the car and trailer started sinking in the mud. I knew I had to keep going until I could get the rear tires of the car back on the pavement. We made it. Praise the Lord.

I had enough tools and a small hydraulic jack to lift the trailer. I placed boards under the jack so it wouldn't sink in the mud. We got the wheel off and took it back to town to a tire shop. I asked the person there for the cheapest tire he had in that size and at least 6 ply. He looked at us, then at the tire and went and got us a good, used tire. He mounted it and then gave it to us. Praise the Lord.

It was midmorning and still raining when we got the tire back on the trailer. I hitched up the trailer, started the Chrysler, pushed the transmission into low, and eased forward. The tires on the car started to slip when the trailer started moving, and we hadn't gone a few inches when we stopped. Oh my. What now?

I jacked the right trailer wheel up and put a board under it. I tried moving again. This time I put a lot of throttle on it, and my Chrysler 300 with the 413 engine did the rest. With a hard pull and God's blessings, we were on the road. I stopped, got out and retrieved our board. I noticed our trailer hitch was leaning back almost 45º, but still intact.

We traveled about forty miles and blew another tire. This time on the car and we had a spare for it. At the next town, we got the car tire repaired, made our bathroom stops, and ate some of the food that Sara had so thoughtfully prepared and brought with us. We needed this break. It had been a long day, and we still had a few miles to go to get to Illinois. We were traveling on US 20, soon to be crossing the Mississippi at Dubuque, Iowa, then on to Rockford.

We finally made it to Illinois. Wow, it felt a little more like home. However, we blew our next tire near Galena. It split the wheel and tore the tire and tube up beyond repair, so here we went again. This time it was the left trailer tire; I think the trailer had Chevy truck wheels on it. We loaded the wheel into the car and went in to town to a tire shop, hoping to find a wheel and tire for not much money.

This tire shop had a wheel and a good, used tire and tube; I think the price this time was about twenty dollars, which we had. Back at our trailer, I got the wheel mounted and hooked up to the car, but not without a short rest and visit with Sara and little Skyler.

We were just a few miles east of Stockton when we blew yet another rear tire on the car. Once again we put the spare on the car and drove to Freeport where we got our tire repaired. The sun was getting low, but we were close to Rockford and near the end of our energy.

We made it to Uncle Glenn's home at 438 Sixteenth Avenue. Uncle Glenn came out and put planks down so we could pull our trailer into his yard. This was one of the longest, hardest days I can remember. Uncle Glenn and his family fixed us a nice evening meal, showed us where the showers were and then pointed us to our bedroom.

A single axle trailer is very prone to whipping on the road, and when the trailer is much heavier than the towing vehicle, the trailer can take control and go where it wants. God didn't let that happen. We had five flats, two blow-outs and one split wheel, and still made it in a day. Until this, I had experienced several life threatening situations in the air, but that day I discovered that God's watch care is everywhere, every day, for His people, even on the highway.

What Could Have Happened?

The trailer could have whipped us out of control; we could have lost control from blowing a tire; the wheel that split could have come apart and locked up causing loss of directional control. I wasn't always able to get all the way off the road to change a tire, so we could have been hit by passing traffic.

Without God's direction, protection, and provision, we would not have made it at all. I don't want to forget about my guardian angel. Praise the Lord.

We had been in touch with my uncle, Glenn Smith, my father's older brother. Uncle Glenn worked in special machine equipment as an assembler, designer, and machinist. At this time, Uncle Glenn was working for The Hill Rockford machine shop. This shop was one of the smallest shops that Uncle Glenn had worked for in a long time. Hill Rockford employed about 125 people. Uncle Glenn was highly regarded by the company's owner, and when he mentioned that I may need a job, the owner told Uncle Glenn that if I came there, they would hire me.

I started out pushing a broom, but that only lasted about two weeks. Then one day the shop superintendent, Bill Hellman, came to me and asked if I would run a multi-station drill press and make some parts for a while. This transitioned me from the broom to running machine tools.

After a few days on this job, Bill asked if I would run a radial drill and make some larger parts. The answer was yes, but I needed someone to show me how to run the machine. As the days went by, I ran Bridgeport mills, lathes, different types of grinders, did some welding and only occasionally pushed a broom.

After about six months, Bill came and asked me to report to his office in a few minutes. I have always been one to think the worst, and this was no exception. Sara was pregnant with Robert, and I really needed a job. The first thought was that they were going to fire me. I was very wrong; Bill asked me if I knew Sid Worrell, and I said yes I did. I knew Sid because of pushing the broom; I cleaned his corner of the shop, and the old fellow always had something good to say and a couple of jokes to tell. Bill told me that they had been planning to take one of their tool makers and have him work with Sid to learn what he did in his part of the shop. Sid was the guy who ran the model shop and experimental jobs for Hill Rockford.

Anyway, Bill told me that Sid came to him and told him he was going to retire soon. He wanted "young Smitty" to work with him so he could teach me the tricks of his trade. Wow, this was much better than what I had been thinking for the last half hour. Praise the Lord, the only sweeping I did from then on was cleaning up my own messes. I was working on experimental things, building working models of things the engineering department designed, and supervising the standard products division of the shop. This was sure a pleasant change. God blessed me with all of this in a little over six months. Along with the change of duties, I also got a pretty good raise, bringing my pay scale up to $2.25 an hour.

Trip to South Carolina

With the increase in pay, I decided to rent a plane and fly at the Greater Rockford Airport. I joined the Blackhawk Flying Club. Many things around Rockford are named after the Sauk Indian tribe chief Black Hawk. I flew at greatly reduced rates at the flying club. I also flew over downtown Chicago when the city was snow-bound with approximately three feet of snow, and all the airports were closed. Down in the Loop, there were many fender-benders and cars in the snow with cops patrolling on snow shoes and snowmobiles. What a sight.

I was also blessed to fly for others who would pay for all the expenses, including the airplane rental. One such trip took us to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. We rented a Cessna 172 from the Cessna dealer at Greater Rockford Airport to fly Jerry George, his pregnant wife, and small son to Columbia, South Carolina. Sara, who was pregnant with Robert, and Skyler, our small son, went along. When we got to Columbia, Jerry said we could borrow one of his family's cars to drive to Myrtle Beach. This was quite a treat for the Smiths.

In planning this trip to Columbia, the weather dictated that we stay north of a direct line which took us through West Virginia and over some very rugged terrain. It was getting dark, and I was doing my best to keep us on track and get somewhere to get fuel. We were crossing coal mines and mountains, and I was very confused as to where we were.

Finally, I got tuned in to Bluefield, West Virginia, VOR (a radio navigation station). These stations give a Morse code identifier and some also give a verbal identifier. This one gave the verbal, and we all listened intently for what seemed hours to Bluefield VOR, repeated every few seconds.

Before we saw the rotating beacon at the airport, both gas gauges were pegged on empty. Bluefield was an intended stop, but the headwind was much stronger than usual and ran us over our planned three-hour flight and nearly exhausted our four-hour fuel range. Praise the Lord, we made it and decided that if we had to sleep on the tarmac, we weren't flying any farther that night.

I tied the plane down and found a phone booth to find a motel. I called to see if they had a room for the six of us. They did, and when we told them there were four adults and two small children with some luggage, he said he would send two cars to pick us up. I reminded him we came in a small plane, and he once again replied he would send two cars. When the Thunderbird and the Mustang showed up, I knew why two cars.

The next morning was bright and beautiful with light wind. We fueled the airplane and discovered that we still had approximately twenty minutes of fuel left.

What Could Have Happened?

Fuel exhaustion could have caused a forced night landing in a mountainous area where the probability of survival would have been very low.

This was another one of those situations that came very close to being a very bad day. I still am so thankful for God's watch care and my guardian angels.

The rest of the flight was completely uneventful and a beautiful ride. Our trip to Myrtle Beach was the first time for Sara and me to go to a theme park.

I also learned that as sure as a pilot tries to stretch his fuel range, it inevitably causes the headwind to increase.

Back to Work

I worked on parts for the first machine to ever make the carbide studs for car tires. I built riveting machines for a number of companies such as National Cash Register, Allen Bradley, Chrysler Corporation, Ford, General Motors, Pratt and Whitney and a number of others. At this time, I had five other men working under me in the standard products department, so I could still work part time in the experimental and model shop.

During the time at Hill Rockford, when shop orders got short, Bill told me to keep busy. With this in mind, I started a project for myself. Some guys in the shop called a personal job a government job. My project was to build an all-terrain vehicle with all-wheel drive and skid steer. As far as I know, I had the first such vehicle. I used some go-kart parts for the drive mechanism. I thought of go-kart parts because I had a Fox Ultra-light go-kart and decided to use its engine and gearbox for my mountain buggy, as I called it.

The guy that owned the go-kart parts store in Brodhead, Wisconsin, asked me one day what I was doing with these parts; I had been buying two of some items that you would normally only use one. So big dummy me, I told him about my mountain buggy, and he handed me a notebook and pencil for me to draw a sketch of what I was talking about.

A few weeks later when I went back for more parts, the store owner told me that he was a tire importer. One of his suppliers sent him six low pressure tires that he didn't know what to do with, so he built a six-wheel buggy with a body that would float. Wow, from my idea, and those things sold like crazy for several years; then they evolved to the three-wheelers and now to the four-wheeler, rough terrain vehicles. I wonder where I would be if I had patented the idea myself.

I also designed a remote control system to start car, a Hover craft using a lawnmower engine and a tractor inner tube and other items.

One important Rockford event: Our son Robert was born on September 1, 1966.

Back to Pearl

In 1966, Dad bought a new Shield Bantam dragline and asked me if I would come home and operate it for him. This sounded like a really good deal. Why do we so soon forget life's hard lessons?

At this time, Dad had a 1957 bulldozer, a couple of dump trucks, a gravel screening plant, the dragline and some farm equipment. The deal Dad offered me was I could buy my own fuel, oil cable, get my own jobs, maintain the equipment and keep half the money I made. The catch with this: the jobs I did were jobs that Dad had acquired, and the customer paid Dad; I seldom saw any money. We were living in Dad's rental house and paying rent. This obviously wasn't working out.

Union Job

One of the jobs we secured was to do the dirt work and set the low steel for a truck-to-truck transfer port for the Pillsbury Company. This was near New Canton, Illinois. We rented a TD-15 International bulldozer from Merle Wyatt, who lived near New Canton. We took Dad's new 1966 Shield Bantam crane to do the crane work. I pushed dirt and dug holes for the dump pits and foundation holes.

I had worked there by myself for over two weeks when the union workers showed up. They were laborers, iron workers, carpenters and others. The steward who seemed to be in charge of the union workers came up on my crane and tapped me on the shoulder, which I knew was not a good sign. He asked me for my card. I promptly gave him one of my calling cards. This turned out to be a bad joke, and the union steward didn't laugh at all.

He then informed me that this was a union job, and I couldn't work there unless I was a union member. I reminded him that Illinois had the right-to-work law, and I thought that meant I could work here either way.

He responded that I could work there, but they would shut the job down until they got rid of me; or I could join the operators' union. I began folding up the crane to the transport configuration. The superintendent saw what I was doing and came out to see what was going on.

I told him that the union steward told me I couldn't work there unless I was union; and I wasn't going to join the union. The superintendent told me that he thought I was doing a good job for him and didn't want me to leave. He paid for my temporary union card, so that I could go back to work.

Okay, so we think we are up and running? I got on the crane and went to work; I hadn't worked five minutes, and here came the steward again. This time he said I was union now and should know that a crane must have an oiler on it. I started folding up the crane again; and out came the superintendent again and asked what now?

I told him that I had to have an oiler or I couldn't operate the crane. Once again the superintendent said he would hire an oiler for me. I went to work with the crane because we had an oiler coming.

When the oiler showed up, he reported to the crane. I knew the oiler was supposed to oil and grease the crane. If it was a mobile crane, he also moved the crane to different work positions, so I asked him to move the crane up about four feet. The oiler got in the crane carrier, revved the engine up until it hit the over-speed governor, popped the clutch, and blew the side out of the transfer case. (This is a large and rather expensive gear box that is not readily available.) I picked up my thirty-two-ounce ball peen hammer and told him that it was time for him to leave and pointed the hammer toward his car. He seemed to understand.

I got on the dozer, moved the crane, and went on working. Then I got back on the dozer and moved the crane again. The next time I got on the crane, the steward was tapping me on the shoulder again. He reminded me that I was union, and I had been on one machine, then another, and back on the first machine, then back on the other. The union only allowed one change and back in any work day.

At this point I was beginning to see some of the advantages of being a union member. He also reminded me that I didn't have an oiler. I told the steward that the superintendent had called the hall for another oiler; the reason I made so many changes was because of the union help I had. He let it go at that, but reminded me that I had a week to get the crane fixed.

The other oiler showed up and reported for work. He asked me what I wanted him to do. I pointed to a tree and recommended that he go and enjoy the shade and not to come anywhere near my crane. He took the advice. At this point, I was legal with the union because an oiler is on the payroll.

When I could get to a phone, I called the Crane Company in Waverly Iowa. They told me they had a new transfer case for our crane carrier. I called John Surgeon to see if I could rent his airplane to go get the gear box. (At this point I had no idea how heavy it would be.) I had been working long days and was very tired, but I knew I had to get this gearbox in the crane soon. I asked if there was an airport near them where I could pick the unit up. They said I would have to land at Cedar Rapids to get it.

It was going to be a long night, and I knew that I needed someone to help load the gear box and keep me awake for such a trip. I called my sister Carolyn to see if she could go, and she said yes. I checked the weather, which was forecast to be perfect for our flight. I picked Carolyn up and drove to Jerseyville to get the airplane. I had called John and had him deliver the plane to Jerseyville and leave it for us.

Carolyn and I took off to Cedar Rapids, Iowa; on this flight, I showed Carolyn a few of the things on the chart that pertained to what I was doing. As far as I know, this was the first time Carolyn had ever been up in an airplane. All went well for the flight, and the person I talked to at the crane company told me where I would find the part we are going for.

After finding the part, I looked at the freight ticket and noticed the weight was 450 pounds. I knew the rear seat weight could handle two passengers at 170 pounds each, and the baggage compartment was placarded for not over 120 pounds, which totaled 460. With no further consideration of CG (center of gravity) or anything else, I looked for someone to help us load that thing in the rear seat of the airplane, but there was no one anywhere near this side of the airport. My sister, all 115 pounds of her, said we could load it. Oh me of little faith! My weight at that time would have been around 120 pounds, so our combined weight was close to half what the part weighed.

We went to work; we broke the steel bands on the shipping pallet, took the right side door off the airplane, removed the right seat, looked around and found a board and some concrete blocks and made a ramp up to the door on the airplane. Next, we rolled the gear box to the ramp and started it up.

It was midnight, and we were very tired. The job was progressing, but very slowly and with great effort. We used boards from the pallet as levers and some of the seat belts from the plane to assist in this operation. After considerable time and hard work, the gear box was sitting on some boards that we had put on the seat for protection. We put seat belts around the part, reassembled the airplane, and put Carolyn in the pilot's seat. (I had already flown from the right seat in expectation of becoming a flight instructor someday.) We cranked the engine, called the tower, and proceeded to take off.

I did notice the airplane handled a little funny on the ground, and it took a lot more effort to get the tail up than normal, but the C-170 did a great job of getting us on our way home to Jerseyville. We climbed to 5500 feet and leveled off to cruise. By this time, I was completely exhausted, so I gave Carolyn a very brief demonstration on the control usage and showed her the compass. I gave her the heading and altitude to keep, handed her the chart, showed her some of the symbols on the chart, and told her I had to close my eyes for a few minutes, but to wake me if anything didn't look like she thought it should.

Carolyn woke me over an hour later saying I think that is Jerseyville in front of us. My first thought was I couldn't have had my eyes closed more than ten minutes. It must be a rotating beacon at some other airport. I looked at my watch and realized that it could be Jerseyville. I checked other landmarks and realized it was, in fact, Jerseyville and time to let down.

The approach and landing went well, but once again I noticed that the airplane felt tail-heavy and was noticeably more difficult to keep straight on the roll-out, but all was quite manageable. Next we had to get that gear box in the trunk of my car. Once again Carolyn wasn't at all concerned whether we could do it or not. She started looking around the hangars for some boards to transfer the unit into my car. With the load transferred, we headed home. I had a little time to get my lunch and thermos ready to go to work.

(Personal note: Carolyn and I thought a lot alike and were happy with what we had and considered most things possible and doable with the belief that what appears impossible just takes more thought and effort. Carolyn was always a loving, caring person to everyone. She went home to be with our Lord in 1989, after having several brain tumors.)

What Could Have Happened?

I never did try to figure out how much tail-heavy or overloaded we were, but I am sure we were both. With a tail-heavy condition, the airplane is more prone to getting into an uncontrollable stall; and in the case of a tail-wheel airplane, it greatly increases the ground looping possibilities. Carolyn could have become lost in that hour, and that could have caused us to run out of fuel.

Another thanks to my guardian angel.

Trip to Florida

While I was working with Dad, I met Don Crosby, who also had a dozer and worked with us on some jobs. Don was a student pilot and had bought a 1954 Cessna 170 B. He had been caring for Gene Fossik for a few years.

Mr. Fossik was a multimillionaire, but didn't have the common sense to take care of himself. Don found that by being friends with the Fossiks, it paid some dividends. Each year during the fall, Don would take Mr. and Mrs. Fossik to their home in Avon Park, Florida. This year he decided to take them in his Cessna, if I would fly them.

Don kept his plane at Paul Carpenter's strip. We serviced the plane the day before the flight. We loaded up at 03:00 to head to Florida. Until this time, I didn't know how far gone this couple was. Gene was pretty far gone, but his wife didn't know anything. I had a feeling that this was going to be a long day by the time we got the old folks loaded and in the air. Don was a heavy smoker, so this added to my problems; I couldn't stand much smoke.

We took off and were climbing to 5500 feet for our southeast trip. A couple hours after we leveled off, Don had a cigarette in his hand and his right arm through the grab loop on the door post with his head resting on his arm and one end of his cigarette in his mouth when Mrs. Fossik decided she wanted to get out and walk awhile. As she opened Don's door, he quickly woke up and had half his cigarette in his mouth and the other half still in his hand. I had heard Mrs. Fossik say she wanted to get out, but never gave it a thought that she would open the door. I don't think she had any idea that we were flying. I was a bit surprised myself; I had never had anything like this happen before.

I don't remember all the airports we used on this flight; we made a fuel stop in Tennessee, Alabama, and at least three stops in Florida. I remember making some relief stops and having to find Mrs. Fossik, who was always wandering off. It was midnight when we landed at Tallahassee and about 12:05 when we taxied up to the fueling ramp, just in time to see the lights go out. I called the tower and asked if there was any fuel available. The answer was not on this field, but if we went on to Perry Foley Airport, which was a few miles southeast, the airport attendant lived on the airport and would fuel us anytime.

By this time, I was keeping close tabs on our fuel and figured we had about fifty minutes. The flight should have taken about thirty-five minutes, and I really wanted to get the Fossiks delivered ASAP. I didn't want to have to find them in the morning.

As we flew toward Perry, the lights on the ground started fading out, which caused some concern; I figured it was ground fog coming in. I then noticed that the really dark area was the Gulf of Mexico. Oh, that added a little extra flavoring to the situation. I was losing my land marks, the fuel was low, and I was very tired.

I focused on my compass, my chart, and my clock. We had passed the point where we could have turned back to Tallahassee, and I still didn't see Perry's rotating beacon. The few lights on the ground were surely covered in fog. The thought kept coming to me that we should have spent the night in Tallahassee and took our chances on finding the Fossiks in the morning. As it was, I envisioned rescuers searching for us in the swamps or the Gulf.

I had to stop thinking like that, don't ya know? In a few minutes, I saw the rotating beacon at Perry Foley. (Two cities own the airport, Perry and Foley.) This was good, and my estimated time of arrival was close. We should have plenty of fuel to land. I flew over the airport to check the wind, which favored landing toward the northeast, and they had a lighted runway going that way.

I don't know why, but as I flew over the field, I noticed the city had a street that lined up with the runway. As I was on base, the runway lights went out. This was another one of those we gotta make it because we can't go anywhere else situations. I used the street lights to get lined up with what I thought was the runway. I turned on the landing lights and started letting down, and at about 200 feet, I could make out the runway outline. I wasn't lined up with it, but close enough to get lined up before we had to touch down.

Wow, I would have been a goner except for God's watchful care.

As we taxied to the office building, the lights came on, and we could see the gas pump. After a short break, we started on toward Avon Park where the Fossiks had some property. We made another stop at Lakeland for the Fossiks to go to the bathroom; they had all night service there so we filled the fuel tanks again, not knowing what we were going to find at Avon Park. Ground fog was increasing as it was around 03:00.

The flight to Avon was uneventful; we saw the beacon and the runway lights, so I started to feel a little better. As I flew the approach, it seemed like everything was as it should be, but on short final, I turned on the landing lights and went through a patch of ground fog. This blinded me momentarily; the next thing I saw were some large, round hay bales right in front of me.

I didn't know what happened to the runway, but I didn't question it any further. I opened the throttle and pulled up to get my wits regathered and decide what to do. After a look at my chart, I saw that ten miles farther south was Sebring Airport. This is the place where they used to have the sports car races back in the sixties. When the races weren't going, it was an airport.

The weather was clear at Sebring, so we landed, unloaded and slept on the concrete until after daylight, waiting for the fog to burn off. Then we flew back to Avon Park and took the Fossiks to their winter home.

What Could Have Happened?

There are many things that could have happened on this trip. We could have run out of fuel south of Tallahassee before getting to Perry Foley. When the lights went out, I might not have been able to find the runway, and there were no other options within our fuel range. When I hit the ground fog at Avon Park, we could have hit one of those big hay bales, which could have been fatal.

God must have a lot of guardian angels to watch so many foolish people.

While we were in Florida for a few days, Don gave me some money and the key to his plane. He took me to the airport and told me to fly around Florida and have some fun. You don't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what I did with that offer.

Early in the morning, before 09:00, I got fueled up and in the air. The first direction I went was straight to the Everglades. The first swamp I crossed was the Seminole Indian Reservation, northwest of Lake Okeechobee. I flew below 1000 feet until I got to the swamps; then I went down to less than 100 feet to see what was there, an alligator maybe.

In the swamp, there were lots of weeds and water; the sun was well overhead by this time, and I could see the water that the weeds were growing in. I had spent a lot of my working years draining swamps and wondered to myself how this one might be drained.

I soon came upon what looked like a ditch where someone had apparently tried to drain the swamp and failed. The ditch went straight, as far as I could see, but I couldn't see any piles of dirt from digging the ditch, and the water was still there. In a little while, I saw an intersection where other ditches joined the one I had been following. I turned to follow one of the other ditches, and soon I saw a house on stilts with an air-boat under the house and several people sitting on the porch. Most of the people on the porch were kids and naked. At that point, I knew that what I thought were ditches were air-boat routes. This was an interesting part of this trip for sure. How could people live in such a place? I could see Lake Okeechobee, so I climbed to 1000 feet to cross the water.

I am no swimmer and didn't like the idea of going down in that much water. I could see West Palm Beach to the east. I was still heading south to get to the Everglades. I flew across Clewiston and was soon over more swamp. I noticed there was another Seminole reservation where Hwy. 84 crosses the swamp. That highway is now called I-75 and the Everglades Parkway.

I saw more grass houses with kids and airboats. Occasionally, several of these houses were situated together like a village. I had been flying for over an hour and decided I had seen enough of the Florida swamps and headed back toward Avon Park. This was certainly a trip of a lifetime for me; I never expected to ever fly over the Everglades or to see Seminole Indians at their homes. Wow, what a trip!

Even though I was a little uneasy about flying over Lake Okeechobee, I never gave a thought to what I would do if I went down in the swamp. I flew at about 1000 feet over the lake and at times lower than 50 feet over the swamp. There were boats on the lake that I probably would have landed by if I had lost power over the lake. But what would I have done if I had landed in the swamp? I have since seen pictures and heard stories about the creatures that live there. After thinking about it, I don't believe a man could've walked out of that swamp even if the creatures didn't get him. When I look back on this situation, as in so many other cases, I have to praise God for sparing me the awful outcomes that could've happened in that place.

What Could Have Happened?

I could have had a power failure when flying over Lake Okeechobee or the Everglades. In other words, I could have been injured in a plane crash, or perhaps become alligator food. .

Thanks to God and my guardian angel for looking after me. I still wonder why would He do that for me.

The next day, we stayed around the house helping Don get things working for the Fossiks. While I was there, I noticed that Mrs. Fossik went to her refrigerator to get something out. I heard her say something about fixing lunch; then I noticed she had a plate with a fish skeleton on it and was going to fix it for our lunch. I suddenly wasn't hungry. Don saw what was going on, so he loaded us up in the car and drove us to a small restaurant in Avon Park.

After another night's sleep, we went to the airport and loaded up for our return flight to Pleasant Hill, Illinois. The flight home was a lot less eventful than the flight going down when we made a whole flight mostly in the daylight hours. Going home, we had one overnight stay and made it back in the daylight the next day.
Chapter 6

Commercial Pilot & Flight Instructor

With the Tri-Pacer totaled, I basically had no choice but to finish up my commercial and flight instructor certificates with the Cessna 170 and John Surgeon. Having recently made the flight to Florida with Don Crosby's Cessna 170, I was current in the Cessna 170, and I had actually given Don some instruction in it. It was just a matter of working out my work schedule, synchronizing it with the weather, and saving a few dollars for flight money to get back with John and finish up my flight instructor status.

I don't remember all of the details in the next few weeks. What I do remember is I flew the C-170, working on the commercial maneuvers of precision stuff: chandells, lazy eights, eights on pylons and things like that, getting ready for the commercial and flight instructor certificates. John had given me a few hours of instrument instruction, but he reminded me that I needed at least five hours of instrument instruction with an instrument instructor, or a double "I" as we call it.

Reese Ed Oldfather, a friend of John's, was a veteran World War II pilot. He was known to his friends as Pappy Oldfather. Pappy had an instrument flight school at Lambert Field in St. Louis, Missouri. Pappy's flight school was named Corporate Flight. I believe Pappy was a bomber pilot during World War II. He was one of the best-known flight instructors in the St. Louis area. Pappy had a Cessna 172 that was well-equipped with three gyroscopically-stabilized instruments. I thought it was very interesting to be able to fly an airplane that had three gyroscopically-stabilized instruments because I'd never flown in an airplane so well-equipped. Pappy's airplane also had two NavCom radios and an ADF (automatic directional radio) radio. I also learned that Pappy used a hood on the pilot to simulate instrument-flying conditions, rather than the blue plastic cover on the outside and the yellow glasses.

We flew around for a couple of hours doing basic instrument maneuvers to let me get acquainted with a full panel and with the VOR (Very high frequency Omni directional Range navigation system) which I had little experience with. We did most of our instrument practice south of St. Louis and to the west. I learned to use two new gyros, an attitude indicator, and a heading indicator. By having these additional instruments on board, it gave a whole new meaning to the idea of instrument scan compared to what I had been doing before.

About the third hour on one of our lessons, Pappy had me tune in the limestone outer marker and gave me a chance to learn how to navigate with the ADF. After a few minutes of flying with a full panel and the ADF, while homing to the NDB (nondirectional beacon) and flying straight to the station, Pappy decided that we were going to do some partial panel. I was flying straight and level when Pappy put a card over my attitude Gyro. This was no problem because I had been flying with less than that in the Cessna 170.

After a while, Pappy put a card over the heading indicator. This still presented no problem. I had as much equipment as I was used to flying with in the C-170. After a few more minutes of flying with the needle, ball and airspeed, Pappy then covered my rate-of-turn indicator. I studied the situation for a few minutes before deciding that I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do. I raised the hood, looked at Pappy with a blank expression on my face, and he smiled at me.

Then he told me to put the hood back down and remember tuning in the limestone outer marker on the ADF. I answered yes, I remembered that. He asked if I noticed that when I turned the airplane, the ADF needle moved, and from that I could tell if the airplane is turning. He said I had my airspeed and altimeter to tell me if I was climbing or descending, and the ADF to let me know when I was turning. I made a couple of practice turns very slowly. I found that I could manage the airplane, turn to new headings, and manage my altitude with what little panel I had left. This procedure is something that I've been teaching my students ever since, even to this day. The instructors that God let me fly with – John Surgeon, Pappy Oldfather, and a few other really great, very dedicated, flight instructors – are some of reasons I am able to teach the students that I'm training today for God's Air Force.

Soon after I finished my Double I (Instrument Instructor) time with Pappy, I finished up the commercial precision maneuvers with John Surgeon and scheduled my flight check for my commercial certification checkride. Back then, nearly all checkrides (today it would be a practical test) for pilot certification were done by FAA personnel. I don't remember my FAA examiner's first name, but his last name was Young. Apparently the Young family had several people in aviation because there was a Young aviation ramp on the south side of Lambert Field at that time. It seemed like it had been a long way getting from a student pilot to commercial pilot, but God blessed me through this practical test, and I successfully completed it and was going home as a commercial pilot.

I was still using Don Crosby's Cessna 170 from time to time and flying mostly from the right seat to practice for my flight instructor practical test. After two or three weeks, I was back with John riding along to prepare me for the flight instructor precision maneuvers.

John let me fly from the right side to get ready for the practical test with FAA. One of the big differences between a commercial practical test and the flight instructor practical test is that the applicant has to teach the examiner how to do the maneuvers and critique him when he does them wrong. The applicant must know what's wrong, and be able to instruct from the right side. One big hurdle was passed at this time, and I went home as a flight instructor; praise God.

Note: today when I think about the few hours that I actually had, scattered out over about three years, it's amazing that I could fly with the FAA and pass the commercial flight check and flight instructor in a Cessna 170. Over the years, I've had a number of my flight students ask me to find him an easy examiner for their flight check. My answer was I would get them the oldest, grouchiest and most particular examiner I could find. This is close to the truth. On the other hand, I've taken most of my practical tests with an FAA examiner. Perhaps it was an ego thing to take my tests with an FAA examiner. It made me feel like I had earned my certificate. For my reader who may someday be doing their practical test for the flight instructor certificate: the inspector will appear to be the dumbest student you may ever have.

When I look back on my story to this point, by normal standards, I never could have accomplished what I did except for God's blessings and Sara doing without a lot of the things she wanted and needed. She worked to keep us fed and under a roof on very little money. The time frame seemed so long because the whole thing seemed impossible to me. The three years went very quickly. I ran across our first income tax form a few months ago and was amazed that we had made so much money in 1964. We grossed $846.00 and thought that with all that money, we had to file our first tax return. Three years from student pilot to commercial and flight instructor really isn't that long.

Praise to the Lord for getting me through these two practical tests.

First Professional Flying Job

Even though the statute of limitations ran out a long time ago, in some of the following stories, I changed some of the names to protect the guilty and the innocent.

1967 B1RD Aviation at Podunk USA

Being a Cessna dealer during the mid to late sixties was a good thing because general aviation was going and growing at a breath-taking rate. As a result of working for a Cessna dealer, I flew many new Cessnas, trained many new pilots, and did checkouts for customers who bought new airplanes, as well as some of the used planes that came through.

B1RD Aviation was a Cessna dealer and service shop for Cessna customers. They also had connections to sell a new Piper, or Beechcraft airplanes, as well as dealing in used airplanes. B1RD aviation had a FAR 135 certificate (on demand charter service) which covered the forty-eight states. B1RD aviation rented aircraft and offered flight and ground instruction. My job was flight instructor, ground instructor, air-taxi pilot, and occasionally dealer representative to talk to potential customers until one of the bosses could get to them.

All of the above amounted to a wide variety of aircraft for me to fly. Most of my time was spent as a flight instructor. Frank Tidaback, who was an engineer for Caterpillar, was our regular ground instructor.

Sara and I lived at Edgewood Terrace at Forest City, Illinois, in a 10 x 45 mobile home at this time. My brother Bryon came for a visit and brought a hand held CB (citizen's band) radio with him. We climbed on top of the mobile home for more height on the antenna and started calling to see if anyone would answer. We got an answer, and the voice sounded familiar. As we talked about who was from where, we figured out that we were talking to Chatt (Charles) Ayers, who now lived in Podunk and worked for River Oakes Dodge as a mechanic.

Ernie Walker, who was a salesman for River Oaks Dodge, was a pilot who joined up with the Citabria Company as a dealer for them. It was still 1968, but Ernie had a new 1969 7-ECA Citabria (airbatic spelled backward).

I was selected to teach aerobatics in the Citabria. I didn't realize how special this was for a brand new commercial pilot/flight instructor. Needless to say, I was excited about the opportunities to learn more about flying in many different types of airplanes and to learn aerobatics as well. (I traded our 1962 Chrysler 300 convertible to Ernie for a very nice 1964 Dodge Polara.)

In 1967, B1RD aviation had acquired several new 1968 Cessnas: C-150, C-172, C-182, C-206, and C-207. These were for demos and for stock to sell. They also sold a new 1968 C-180 to the Meyer Morton Company in Bloomington, Illinois. This airplane was the first C-180 I ever flew. Before we could deliver it to its new owners, it had to be flown to Washington State to have a Robertson kit put on it. After that, I got a brief checkout in it and flew it to Moline, Illinois, to a radio shop to have a new King Silver Crown radio stack installed along with autopilot.

My next job was to check out the three new owners, who were marginal C-172 pilots, to fly the Robertson-equipped C-180. This was my introduction to a bush plane with a STOL (Short Take Off and Landing) kit on it. Another WOW!!

Note: This helped set the stage for what I would be doing in the mid to late 90s and after. I had no idea at this time that I would someday be training missionary bush pilots for third-world country operations.

The Robertson-equipped 180

The very first Robertson STOL-equipped aircraft that I ever saw was in 1968 on a Cessna 180. The company I worked for had sold it to the Meyer Morton Company from Bloomington, Illinois. At that time, the only company that could install the Robertson STOL kit was the Robertson Company located in Washington State. B1RD Aviation, the company that I worked for, flew the airplane to Washington to have a Robertson kit installed, and in a few weeks a Robertson pilot delivered the C-180 back to Podunk, Illinois. It was company policy at that time for a Robertson pilot to check out the pilots who were going to use the airplane.

Our Robertson 180 at Podunk arrived in the evening. The next morning was cool, almost frosty, and the company pilot was about to check out my boss. They took two of the airplane's owners with them. There were four people in the 180 for the first takeoff that I ever saw it make. The airplane rolled a short distance, maybe a hundred yards, took off and started a steep climb in a steep turn and spiraled upward about 300 feet with a continued a steep climb down the runway centerline. I witnessed this takeoff and this awesome performance standing in the front office at B1RD aviation.

After the Robertson pilot finished the checkout for my boss, all four of the men that were in the airplane came back to the office to discuss the performance of the Cessna 180 with the Robertson equipment. Later in the day, the plane's owners were gone, and the Robertson pilot had been taken to Peoria Airport to head back to Washington State. Fred came to me, and we talked about flying the 180. Fred told me it was my job to check out the Robertson-equipped Cessna 180's new owners. Wow, what an opportunity to get to fly a brand-new, Robertson-equipped Cessna 180. My first flight in the new 180 was to Moline, Illinois, and to the D & D radio shop to have some new King Silver Crown radios installed in it. I was impressed to see how quickly the airplane could take off, how fast it could climb out, and how easy to cruise at 160 miles an hour.

The Meyer Morton Company purchased this airplane for their company's service personnel to fly to service the grain dryers that they made. This sounded like a very noble idea – to take care of their corn growing farmers in Illinois. By being able to harvest the corn earlier and using a grain dryer such as the ones the Meyer Morton Company built, farmers were able to get a better price at an earlier market.

The idea was to land in the cornfield and taxi up to the grain dryer to service it. It sounded like a good idea, but it never happened. As I started training these pilots to fly this Robertson-equipped 180, I found that they were marginal Skyhawk pilots. They were certainly not up to flying a bush plane with the performance that the Cessna 180 could provide.

Another problem became very obvious. A Cessna 180 is a tail wheel airplane, and the Skyhawk is a tricycle gear airplane. These are very different in ground handling characteristics. I managed to get one of the men checked out in the 180 and thought it would be safe for him to solo. One day he went flying, and it was a little too windy for him. He ground-looped the 180 on a landing. The damage was relatively minor. He broke the flange on a wheel and bent the corner on an elevator. Otherwise the airplane didn't have any damage.

God blessed me with several other opportunities to fly the Robertson-equipped 180. On one of these occasions, I was demonstrating the short-field capabilities. One of my students and I went too slowly on the short final to Runway 27 at Podunk, Illinois. I was using the minimum, short-field approach speed for STOL conditions for this approach on short final. We hit a wind shear that caused an instant stall. At the time the stall occurred, our altitude was approximately 50 feet above the ground, and I was unable to recover from the stall before impacting the ground. The runway overrun area was clear, so we didn't hit anything. In the process of adding throttle and hitting the ground, the airplane bounced and took off again. I immediately cut the power and landed again. This time I landed on the runway. The only damage that was done was to my pride and ego because of embarrassment in front of my student.

My guardian angel saved the day again. The outcome could've been much worse.

This was the first and only occasion where wind shear actually caused me to stall on short final where I actually impacted the ground. This was a very good lesson for me to realize that if it had been over trees and power lines or anything else other than a cleared, grass overrun, it could've been my last landing.

The nice thing about a mistake is the pleasure it gives others.

Straight Out or Straight Up?

One day when I was flying with one of the 180's owners, we were over at Greater Peoria to practice some takeoff and landing operations. The wind was from the north at fifteen, gusting to 20+, which was more than we needed for crosswind at the time. Peoria has a north/south runway, while Podunk has an east/west runway. The temperature was cool, around 40º, which was good for airplane performance. I never liked to do touch and go operations, especially in a tail wheel airplane, so we were doing full-stop operations.

The tower had us taxi to the far south end of the runway to take off on Runway 36. The last landing wasn't as good as I had hoped for, which I thought was because of lack of good airmanship in managing the airplane in flight. I decided we would leave the pattern to do some air work. I requested a straight out departure with twenty knots. On the nose, a cool day, a lightly-loaded, Robertson-equipped Cessna 180, I couldn't resist demonstrating the STOL performance. I had my student open the throttle for takeoff and keep the three-point attitude until the airplane lifted off, and hold the airspeed at forty knots indicated, which gave us a very steep climb angle. The tower came back to me on the radio and asked if I had requested a straight out or straight up departure.

Praise the Lord for sparing me again. This is another one of those situations where I could have hit a wind shear and stalled the airplane.

Appearance of Safety

There was an AMT (Aviation Maintenance Technician) student (I'll call Don) working as an apprentice in the B1RD Aviation shop. (Back then, they were Airframe and/or Engine mechanics.)

Don worked with our chief mechanic Bob in the maintenance shop, getting his apprentice time to enable him to get his A & P (Airframe and Power plant) certificate. One of the customer's airplanes had been in for service, and Don, who was also a pilot, was asked to deliver the Cessna 150 to its home base at Bloomington, Illinois. Don asked me if I would bring another 150 to pick him up and bring him back to Podunk; I agreed to do that.

The weather was marginal VFR (Visual Flight Rules). It was overcast at about 1500 feet when we took off, but the clouds descended rather quickly. I contacted Don on the radio and questioned him about the deteriorating weather. He said he knew the area, and we could follow a certain street which went right to the airport. He didn't think it would be a problem; I agreed to follow him.

After a while, with clouds at less than 200 feet, and the visibility was getting very low. I was perhaps less than a half mile behind Don and occasionally losing sight of him. We were flying about 100 feet above the surface and losing contact with the ground at times. My heart rate was climbing, but Don was ahead of me and reported the runway was in sight, and he was landing. At that moment, I flew into a patch of fog and couldn't see anything which caused me to think this was certainly my last flight. By now, my heart was racing so fast it felt like it wasn't pumping any blood at all.

Note: You may have experience with high-powered boats that have a high pitch on the propeller. When you open the throttle too quickly when stopped, the propeller will move the water so fast it causes a cavity in the water, and the engine will race up and not keep pushing the boat. This condition is called cavitating. That's what I felt like my heart was doing at this time. It wasn't more than a few seconds until I saw the runway right in front of me at almost a right angle to me. I immediately chopped the power and put down full flaps and landed. Don had a friend or family at Bloomington, and it was an easy decision to spend the night. No more flying for me for sure, at least right then.

What Could Have Happened?

If I hadn't seen the runway when I did, I believe I would have died from a heart attack or a plane crash.

Praise the Lord; this was one more of those situations where I was certainly a goner, if not for my guardian angel putting that runway in sight when he did.

Partial Panel and No Power

One day Fred came to me and told me to go fly the 207 and get acquainted with it because he wanted me to take some folks on a demo flight to Marlette, Michigan. The runway at Podunk is 09 and 27, and the wind was out of the north gusting to twenty knots. I was unsure about checking myself out in this really long airplane with the winds like they were, but all went well.

The next morning when I arrived at the airport, the plane was serviced, and there were eight people ready to go to Michigan. I balked right there and went in to talk to Fred about this. He said three of the passengers were small and could share a belt with someone. That meant that there were going to be nine people in a seven-passenger airplane. Being the young and very naive pilot that I was, I went on with checking the weather and loading the passengers. The weather was marginal VFR all the way to Marlette.

Marlette is located about twenty miles north of Detroit and about ten miles west of Lake Huron. This was certainly the most stressful flight I had ever had with passengers on board. The weather was low with thunderstorms all the way. I was flying an airplane that I had only flown once before, and the tachometer wasn't working so I was setting the rpm by ear. I delivered my people at Marlette, and I flew over to Flint, Michigan to get fuel, oil, something to eat if possible, and check the weather.

The weather was the same as when we came up, with an occasional break. The briefer told me there was a cold front affecting the flight most of the way with low ceilings and the tops at 13,500 feet. I had about twenty hours of instrument flight instruction and had brought along the company IFR (instrument flight rules) flight case to study. I had no intention of using any of the charts for real instrument flying.

I asked line service to top off the tanks and add a quart of oil. Without checking anything else, I took off and started climbing. I found enough blue sky to get on top at 14,000 feet. What a beautiful sight to look down on all those clouds. The weather was perfectly smooth, and the airplane was running beautifully.

It seemed like a good time to get out an instrument chart and see where I was, using two VORs. This was the first time I ever had that option. Two radios, wow. I discovered that I was near Kalamazoo, Michigan, but then something popped ahead of the firewall, and I started getting smoke in the cabin. Two things I am still not very fond of. My first thought was the line boy didn't tighten the cap on the oil filler enough, and it had popped off and was pouring oil all over the engine and exhaust pipes. I was either on fire or was going to be.

I immediately pulled the power back to near idle. I already had the approach charts out for Kalamazoo. I called Kalamazoo tower and told them that I was VFR on top and had a mechanical problem. The response was 64G, did you say you are on top and out of gas?

I told him again that I was not out of gas, but had a problem and needed an instrument approach to Kalamazoo. Control came back with "which approach do you want?"

I didn't have a clue, so I responded that I wanted their current weather and the approaches in use. The reply was 500 overcast with 1 mile, and light rain and fog. The approaches they were using were ILS 35 and VOR 35.

I could see right away I was in over my head. I thought I had no power, and I knew I didn't have an instrument rating, and the weather had the ducks walking. I chose the VOR RWY 35 approach. I was almost immediately crossing the enroute VOR and started turning to the approach VOR which was on the airport. As I was turning, I started entering the clouds at 13,500 feet. Oh well, I have twenty hours of instrument instruction. What's a few clouds?

In seconds while I was still turning, my attitude gyro tumbled, and I was about to freak out. I could hear my instructor's voice (he wasn't there, ya know), but he was telling me don't do anything to the plane until you check the directional gyro. So I did, and it was starting to spin. That sure didn't help at all; then the voice told me to calm down and check the airspeed and turn indicator. The turn indicator was still showing a standard rate turn, and the speed was right on 100 knots. That helped, but now what? I knew I had to report that my gyros were out.

I called the tower with my by-now-very-squeaky voice that my gyros had gone out. The response was as calm as could be: roger 64 G report the VOR outbound. I read it back to him and continued trying to calculate how long it was going to be before I got the VOR; then how long I could go out and still make it back to the airport.

I had to try to encourage myself to think that this was all going to work out okay. I started counting what had gone wrong: the clouds were tops at 13,500 feet; I believed my engine was going out, and the plane might have been on fire; my gyros failed, and the airport is somewhere way down there in the fog and the rain. All that didn't make me feel very much better.

I had been told to be as prepared as possible for the unexpected and to apply what my instructor called mental discipline. I didn't really understand what all that meant, but I decided that it meant that as long as the airplane is flying, I had to do whatever I could with what was still working. I took another shot at the evaluation of what was going on with a focus on what was working.

All my flight controls were working; my turn gyro, airspeed indicator, and my compass were all working. And if my calculations on the whiz wheel were right, it looked like I had enough altitude to make the approach. (Whiz wheel is the military flight computer E-6B). I initiated the approach at 100 knots. And as soon as I figured out that I could still fly with my partial panel, I reduced the speed to 90 knots to give me 1.5 miles a minute to make figuring the distances easier and get a more efficient glide.

I felt a little better this time crossing the VOR and making a timed turn outbound, and with my still-very-squeaky voice reported to the tower that I was VOR outbound. The response was: roger 64G report procedure turn inbound. How could that guy in the tower be so calm? Didn't he know I could crash and be killed? I calculated my time that I thought I could go out for the procedure turn and still make it back to the field. Another thing I had to consider was that if I came out too high, I would crash in the city of Kalamazoo. That made it very interesting; I couldn't afford to come up too short or too long.

With my few hours as a pilot and on instruments, flying a strange airplane with the engine shut down to idle, failed gyroscopic instruments, and the weather down to nothing, I was rather frightened. I was on the inbound side of the procedure turn when the tower called me: 64 Golf, the Air force base radar has a target five miles southwest of the field and tracking to the northeast. Could that be you?

I responded that I thought that was where I was. The tower came back as calm and collected as before: roger 64 Golf, cleared to land and report field in sight. Once again I am checking my speed, altitude and distance to the field, using the two VORs. The approach VOR was on the field, and the Battle Creek VOR was a few miles east of the field. My best-guess method. At 550 AGL, the strobe lights at the end of the runway started cutting through the clouds, so I knew that I would at least be landing on the airport, probably in the light stands that these strobes were on. At exactly 500 AGL, I broke out, and the runway was in position for a normal approach, so I called field in sight and started lowering the flaps.

The tower came back with: 64 G cleared to land and let me know what assistance you may need. I acknowledged and pulled the mixture on the still idling engine. I kept the engine idling just in case I wanted one more shot of power, still believing I was losing the engine. I landed with a dead engine, coasted off on a taxi-way and sat there for a while to calm down before checking the plane to see what happened.

While I was sitting there, it occurred to me that God had been looking after me on this trip all the way from takeoff at Podunk, USA.

I got out of the airplane, expecting to see oil all over everything, but I didn't see any. I pulled the dipstick, and the engine was full; I checked the oil cap, and it was on and secure. I looked ahead and saw Cessna dealer signs. I started the engine, called ground control and asked to taxi to the Cessna ramp. Upon arriving at the Cessna dealership, I noticed several people in the lobby area and thought that they were open for business, but not so. I found a phone, called Bob and told him what had happened. After he quit laughing, he told me that the vacuum pump had frozen up and broke the plastic drive adapter which melted and made the smoke. The plane would be fine, so I should stay under the clouds until I got home, and the weather was clear at Podunk.

After a little more calm-down time, I started the plane, called ground control and asked for a special VFR clearance out of the area. Ground cleared me to taxi to Runway 35. After my run-up check, I called the tower who cleared me for takeoff and commented that my instrument rating sure paid off today.

My reply was, "it sure did!" I really thought I would lose my pilots certificate over this, but never heard another word about it. The weather was still 500 feet and one mile with light rain when I got my special VFR clearance. I flew around radio towers for about fifty miles, after which the ceiling started going up, and the visibility was increasing. It was soon up to good VFR then it went to clear and unlimited about fifty miles from Podunk. This was another great flight with a lot of good lessons for a very green pilot.

Praise the Lord: God spared me again.

This was another one of those days when I skipped church to go flying. I didn't feel quite as guilty this time as it was part of my job, rather than just for the fun of it.

Good judgment comes from experience. Unfortunately, the experience usually comes from bad judgment.

Winter Night Flight

Some of the charter work we did from Podunk, Illinois, was to haul parts for Caterpillar Tractor Co. when an assembly line needed a few not-too-big parts. This trip was one such trip. My boss told me I needed to be in Marion, Indiana, at 22:00 to pick up some drive shafts from Dana Corporation. There were to be eight fairly short drive shafts for something rubber-tired that Caterpillar was building. They needed these shafts to keep the assembly line running in the morning until a truck could bring more.

The distance was 184 miles, so I knew I would need fuel before I could go home. The airport facility directory said fuel was available. What I didn't notice was the part about prior request. The weather was low enough I filed an IFR (instrument flight plan). Oh yes, I had my instrument rating by this time.

The airplane I was taking had only one radio, and it had only 90 com channels and a VOR receiver for navigation. I planned to use the VOR 15 approach to Marion. I was told where I could find the skid that would have the drive shafts on it. The flight went well, and I got to Marion in about 1:45, flew the approach, landed, taxied to the ramp and located the parts and the fuel pump.

I noticed that the office was dark, and that didn't go along with my plan because I needed fuel to make the trip home with a safe reserve. I looked all around the gas pump and the office to see if I could find a phone number for someone to come fuel my plane, but I didn't find any phone numbers. In those days, it was common to find pay phones at most airports, and this one had a phone, but I didn't have a number to call.

The wind was blowing, and the temperature was something like 5º C with fog and haze. There was a temperature inversion at the time, and the icing level was above the altitudes I planned to use. I went to load the parts, and I found the tag on the pallet saying the shafts weighed 110 pounds each. There were eight of them, plus the weight of the pallet. I found a rock to break the steel band on the pallet, so I could load one shaft at a time. I noticed that there were boards under the shafts with notches cut in them to hold the shafts from moving. So I moved all eight of the shafts off the pallet. I managed to knock the boards loose and put them in the airplane as near the center of gravity as possible. That looked like the right place to load the parts.

I had removed all but the pilot seat from the C-172 before I left Podunk, so I was able to load the shafts and pull seat belts over them to hold them in place. I did some quick math on my load: 880 pounds for the parts, 10 for the boards, 125 for me. That was 1015 pounds, and I had around 20 gallons of fuel 120, bringing my total up to 1135, which made me about 300 pounds overloaded.

The upper wind was light and variable on the way over. I hoped it was as I had figured: about two hours to get home at eight gallons an hour, which if my figures and guesstimates were correct, should have left me with four gallons of fuel on board. That's not enough for a night VFR flight, let alone one on instruments.

By this time, I was very cold, had no phone numbers and no sign of life anywhere, so I decided to go home. I already had my flight plan filed, so I took off and called center to pick up my clearance to Peoria. So far so good as the little airplane was running great, but climbing rather slowly. That was another thing I hadn't thought about.

The slow climb was going to burn more fuel than I had planned on. I had filed for 4000 feet, and finally made it up there, set the power for economy cruise, and leaned it to peak to stretch the fuel as far as possible. As soon as I could, I got a VOR cross fix and wrote down the time. About twenty minutes later, I did it again to figure my actual ground speed, which was slightly faster than my airspeed estimate, so this was good news. I had already planned to use the Bloomington, Illinois, airport if it didn't look like my fuel would make Peoria, but at this point, it looked like I should make it with the reserve I had figured.

I frequently checked my ground speed, and it was staying about the same. As I was getting close enough to Peoria to hear the tower, I listened to get the weather as they were talking to other aircraft, which was rarely. It seemed to be holding around 500 overcast and 1 mile visibility, which is the minimum for the VOR 12 approach, which is the only option I had. I didn't want to go to Bloomington as it was important to deliver these parts to Caterpillar.

It was early morning so I pushed on. When I was about twenty minutes out, I heard an Ozark airline F-27 call in and get the weather, which was down to 400 and 1, so they were given the ILS to Runway 30. I was listening intently to know what happened to them. I had already called the tower and was number two.

About ten minutes out, I heard the F-27 call: missed approach, and we are going to our alternate at Moline, Illinois. This was stressful news because I had only enough fuel to make Peoria, and one shot at that. An airliner missed it with two pilots and an instrument landing system on board. I called the tower and gave them my estimate for the VOR. They cleared me for the approach and advised that the ceiling was ragged and ranging from 400 to 500 and to report VOR outbound. I reported out of 4000 for 2000 and was soon reporting VOR outbound. The tower acknowledged and asked me to report VOR inbound. I would normally go outbound about two minutes, but this night only one minute, flew my procedure turn, got on the inbound bearing and let down to the prescribed 1800 feet for this part of the approach. I soon reported the VOR inbound, and the tower reported the ceiling had just gone down to 200. Oh no! I had no choice, but to make it if I could. The MDA (Minimum descent altitude is 1120, which is 488 above the runway) and the time at 60 knots that I was using for this approach was 3:42, so my plan was to wait till about 3:30 and pull the power off enough to get on down lower and hope to see runway lights.

It worked. I broke out at about 200 feet, then back in and out again at 100 feet and was over the runway, so I closed the throttle and landed. With what strength I had left, I told the tower I was on the ground and going to taxi to the T hangars. The next morning after off-loading the drive shafts into the company van, I had the airplane topped off with fuel and found out that I had two gallons of fuel left, which was good for fifteen minutes of flight.

God and my guardian angel did it again. Praise God.

Taking off is optional, landing is mandatory.

The next morning on the news, I heard what happened to the Ozark flight while I was approaching the Peoria airport from the east. Ozark apparently got on a false glideslope and went under the power lines near the VOR at Hanna City. They ripped off their vertical control surfaces (vertical fin and rudder), then declared their missed approach and made a safe flight to Moline. It doesn't take much imagination to know what could have happened to me if they had missed the approach and went back for another. Plain and simple, I would have had to hold or declare an emergency to get my approach before my fuel ran out. At this time, I don't know what I would have done. This flight is another one that could very well have been my last flight.

Today, I can't help but wonder why God spared me so many times. Praise The Lord!

Overloaded

One cloudy, rainy, windy, marginal VFR morning, Caterpillar called our company and asked if they could charter a flight to Hamilton, Ohio, to pick up a load of castings from Hamilton Foundry. My name came up for the one to fly the 207 to Hamilton and pick up the load. I had learned by now to ask more about the size and weight of the load, and whether or not I could get fuel if I needed it.

The distance one way was 246 Nautical Miles. I usually flight-planned the 207 at 120 knots. I was expecting about two hours each way. I figured the weight of the load as given to me by Caterpillar. Then I added full fuel, my weight and my IFR case and was almost exactly at gross weight. The gross weight on the C-207 is 3800 pounds. My weight, the fuel and flight case left a little over 1000 pounds for cargo.

The weather was warm and humid. The wind was forecast to die down before I arrived at Hamilton. I decided that even though I could have done this one VFR, I wanted to get more experience flying on instruments. So I filed an instrument flight plan for both ways. I took off, picked up my clearance to Hamilton, and was enjoying a good flight only occasionally getting any instrument time, but talking to center and figuring my estimates to the next check point. (Very little radar back then) When I got within about five miles, I cancelled my IFR flight plan and went on in visually.

According to the data, I would have 1000 pounds, and a pickup truck would deliver it to the airport. I don't remember how many boxes there were supposed to be, but the pickup turned out to be a dump truck, and there were nearly twice as many boxes as there were supposed to be. This time I was ready for something like this. I pointed this out to the driver that I could only take half the boxes. He was ready for that and promptly showed me his load manifest which claimed the boxes had only half the weight that my data showed and still came up to 1000 pounds. Okay, so much for how smart I was.

I wanted to get it loaded and go home. Oh, by the way, the driver told me that his job description did not include loading boxes. As I loaded the boxes in the 207, I noticed that the tail was going down, so I started putting some in the forward cargo compartment which leveled the airplane. I started putting more in the main cabin area and still thought these boxes felt a lot heavier than the bill of lading said they were. After a while, the tail of the 207 went to the ground. I knew that if the load goes out of CG to the rear, the tail would go to the ground.

As I was getting nearly to the end of the boxes, I noticed that the tires were mashed to where they looked about half flat. I casually wrote off that information as well, thinking the tires were just low. Both mains low? Must be right? Or maybe it was that the new asphalt on the ramp was soft.

I finished loading the plane and signed the ticket for the driver who never lifted a finger to help. I put the cargo net over the boxes, tied it down, did a walk around inspection to make sure the gas caps were on, and the water traps drained. As I had the fuel truck top it off, I thought I couldn't possibly be overloaded because I saw the weight on the bill of lading from the truck. I thought that the tires being half flat and the landing gear legs being spread farther out than I had ever seen them just meant that it is hot. I was tired and thought I was imagining all this.

Information break: I had been thinking about such things as abort points and other safety items, but not practicing them like I should have been. I stress this kind of thing to my missionary pilot students that I have been training for several years now.

The temperature was 90º; I was very tired, but it was time to go home, another wrong decision. I started the engine, checked the oil pressure, and made sure the cowl flaps were open, called Unicom and got my takeoff advisory. The runway at Hamilton is 11 and 29. The wind, what little there was, favored 11 which also had a little drop, so I thought that it would be good to take off downhill and into the wind.

I added power to taxi, and 64G just sat there, a warning sign? Naw. I added a lot more power, and the airplane slowly started to move. As I turned, I looked back, and yep, the tires were making grooves in the ramp. Couldn't possibly be heavy, right? I got to the run-up area, checked out all the usual stuff, and looked down the runway, which I believe was about 3500 feet long. I picked a spot near mid field by which I decided I should be flying or abort. I lined up on the runway, opened the throttle wide, and the sound of that three-bladed propeller turning 2850 rpm could be heard for some distance. It sounded like I should have been accelerating rapidly, but was in fact slowly starting to roll. It was hot, and I was loaded to gross, right? I was gathering speed and approaching my abort point; I pulled back on the yoke to establish a climbing attitude, and the stall warning came on and no lift-off, but the airspeed was 80. Okay, so why did I not stop?

When I hit 85, I applied 10º flaps and got the same response I got a few seconds ago. The temptation did hit me to shut down, lock the brakes and take whatever. I knew I couldn't stop on the runway, but I left it wide open so I had to fly or go through the fence at 110 mph. I hit the 20º flap pre-select and hauled back on the elevator and staggered into the air with the stall warning screaming in protest.

There was a two-inch, lead-encased phone line to poles on either side of the runway that were pole-high, but across the departure path. They were lowered to about 10 feet or less. I barely cleared the wire, and then the plane started to settle. I was thinking this was going to be a short flight. Going east from Hamilton, the fields were pretty open, and there was a rather subtle valley going down. The 64G stopped settling just barely out of the corn. I guess that ground effect was enough at that point.

As the valley fell away, I managed to gain a little speed and gradually raised the flaps a few degrees at a time. I finally got up to about 115 and the flaps up and managed to get about 50 feet a minute climb-rate. As I looked ahead, I saw more power lines, but I was higher than the trees and climbing so I didn't give the wires much thought.

I was into the filed departure time, and the pressure was off from the other details, so I called center to pick up my clearance to Peoria. (Podunk didn't have an approach at that time.) I had filed for 8000, but realized I needed to lower it, so I asked center to give me 4000.

Another thing came to me which caused me a bit of concern. I was running wide open on a time-limited engine. I could only run 300 HP for 5 minutes, which had already passed. I quickly looked at the head temps and oil temps, and both were red lined. Oh my! With mixed emotions, I pulled the rpm back to 2700 with hopes that I could still climb and wouldn't lose a cylinder or something.

Several minutes later, center called and asked me if I was level at 4000. I reported passing 2000. Center came back with report level at 4000. With the combination of slightly cooler air and several gallons less fuel, I was still only able to climb at a little over 100 feet a minute. I asked center for another amended clearance; I requested MEA (minimum enroute altitude) which I thought was around 3000. I leveled at 3000, reported level and pulled the overheated, overworked engine back to 2600.

I was still running high manifold pressure with the cowl flaps still wide open, but I had 115 and was using a little less power than a half hour ago. It was time to relax a bit so I could think about all the happenings. There was no doubt at this point that this plane was very seriously overloaded, and the pilot was rather dense between the ears.

Information break: If you are a pilot, you can see quite a number of mistakes I made on this flight. I have tried to learn from every flight what to do and what not to do so that I can be a better pilot and flight instructor. I hope that you are gleaning information from my mistakes that will make you a better pilot.

The flight to Podunk was taking a bit longer because there was a west wind at my altitude, and the climb was slower than it should have been. For some reason, the normal cruise speed didn't happen. Cessna advertises cruising speed on the 207 at 143 knots, and by running close to maximum, continuous power, I was only able to get about 120. Anything less than that, and it wanted to fall out of the sky.

When I had Podunk airport in sight, I cancelled my IFR flight plan and proceeded to get my landing advisory. The wind was light and variable at Pekin, so I chose to land on 09. As I slowed down to be able to lower the flaps, the plane felt really tail heavy. The stall warning was beeping at about 100 knots, so I lowered the flaps to 10º on downwind, then on down to 20º. I had to stay a little above the flap-operating speed to keep from stalling out.

I flew it on to the ground at over 90 knots and got the feeling that if I slowed down very much the tail was going to go down. I was taxiing rather fast and holding a lot of forward elevator. I arrived in front of the hangar and slowed to a stop. The tail did hit the ground.

I called on Unicom to ask for our line boy to bring the van and the platform scales to weigh the load I had brought home with me. After weighing all the boxes, I totaled the weight and figured that I took off 1400 pounds overloaded, or in other words, I had brought home a 2400 pound pay load!

What could have happened?

With the extreme overload, it would have been likely to have bent or broken the airplane if I had hit a hard enough bump. Being out of balance in the rear, it would have been likely to have had an uncontrollable stall. When I started slowing to approach speed, I had to apply a lot of forward elevator pressure. At that time, I realized that I had to fly the airplane on to the ground a lot faster that a normal landing in order to maintain control.

Without God's intervention and my guardian angel, I would have been a goner. Praise the Lord.

I have been fascinated for many years by reading and hearing about people taking small planes like I have been flying and taking off with several hundred pounds over gross. In those cases the overweight is fuel and oil, but in the cases in this book, the overload was people or cargo. This trip could have and some would say should have had a different ending. The Cessna didn't have any bent flaps or anything else in spite of operating the flaps above the white arc.

Runaway Propeller

The 1947 Bonanza and I got the job of checking out its new owner. The airplane hadn't been annualed for a long time, so we performed an annual in our shop. In addition to the usual inspection and service, the Bonanza needed its propeller overhauled; that was done at a prop shop in Joliet, Illinois, I believe.

I had never flown a Bonanza before. I had a couple of days' notice, so I went to work reading the owner's manual and looking at the airplane that was in our shop. I felt like I needed to know as much about this airplane as possible if I had to teach someone else to fly it.

The day arrived when I was going to start the checkout with the Bonanza's new owner, so I took it up and flew it around to get a feel for it and get used to having a retractable landing gear. I had never flown an airplane with a retractable gear before.

For several years now, in order to get a commercial or flight instructor certificate, the applicant must have ten hours of instruction in a complex airplane before the practical test (checkride to us old guys). They also have to do the practical test in the complex airplane. This airplane has a wooden propeller and electric motor to change the pitch. It has a governor and a manual override. I studied all the normal and emergency procedures for the prop and the landing gear, but as I found out the book cannot and doesn't ever cover everything that can go wrong.

Back at the hangar, my Bonanza customer/student (let's call him Bill) arrived all excited about getting to fly his new-to-him airplane. I did the usual walk around with him. I had Bill get in the left seat and start the airplane. Bill was already a licensed pilot, but not acquainted with a complex airplane, so we did some taxi practice before we went to an area where we could do the pre-takeoff check.

After determining that everything appeared to be functioning normally, we lined up on the runway and took off. I directed Bill to go southwest of the airport to where we had some fields and section lines and other ground references to practice airport traffic patterns at a safe altitude. That way, Bill could get used to using the landing gear, flaps and the propeller control. I selected a cross-road that would simulate the approach end of the runway and had Bill fly the pattern at 3500 feet and make believe the ground was at 2700. (800 traffic patterns were common then.)

The wind was from the south, but pretty light (less than 10 knots). I had Bill run the pre-landing check list and had the gear down by midfield on the downwind leg of the pattern, then do the WWII GUMP check. Everything was in order at this point; abeam of the point of intended landing, I had Bill pull the power back to the recommended approach setting and go to the first stage of flaps, then progressively add more flaps as it appeared we were too high. On the last part, I had him use power for altitude control and pitch to maintain the correct airspeed.

On the simulated short final, I had Bill close the throttle and flare as if for a landing. At this point everything was working very well. Then I told Bill to make a go around (balked landing). To do this, he had to open the throttle. I had cautioned him that the electric propeller control was a bit slow, so he needed to add power while checking the tachometer and to hesitate when it got to the red line (the engines never exceed speed). While Bill was doing what I instructed, I noticed that we were running redline on the engine and still going down.

I told Bill to add a little more power, thinking that the governor needed to go a little past the redline to get activated. The tachometer needle went on up and didn't come back down. I was aware by then that we had a problem. I retracted the landing gear and the flaps, then applied the prop, manual, override control in an attempt to put some pitch back in the prop, all to no avail.

At this point, we are about fifteen miles nearly due south of another small airport that had a north/south, grass runway. I had Bill take the airplane and hold 80 mph, which seemed to be giving us the least rate of sink, and head directly to the grass, 1800-foot-long runway. I had already checked the circuit breaker to the prop control; it was in, and the manual override wasn't doing anything. We were flying over fields that were sandy (probably at one time had been river bottom and during the summer were watermelon patches). I was already considering landing in one of those fields, but knew there would be damage to the airplane. I wanted to see if we could make the grass runway ahead of us. Bill had been looking at the runway ahead and noticed that there was a Piper Cub doing pattern work and landing to the south.

Bill asked what I thought we should do; I told him there was no way we could fly around the airport and land to the south. For that matter, our reference point on our windshield was moving up the windshield, which meant we weren't going to make the field to land north. So I added more throttle, and the engine was at 300 rpm over the red line, which seemed to have slowed our sink rate to the point that we might make the runway.

I was thankful to have a tailwind on final approach; we were about a half mile out and slightly low, so I added another 200 rpm, feeling sorry for the engine. (I found out later that in some applications, they have turned these engines past 3000 rpm with apparently no problems.) We were on short final, and my aiming point looked like we would barely clear the fence. I told Bill I had the yoke, throttle and the landing gear, and when I put the gear switch down, he should put the flaps full down.

When we got to the point where I was sure we would make the field, I put the gear down. Bill put the flaps down, and I was holding the airplane just high enough above the ground for the gear legs to be able to get down. The engine was still screaming, and as the wing started to stall, we got three green lights, and the airplane touched down. I quickly shut down the engine and got on the brakes.

After we got off the runway, we got out and took a little calm-down time. I had watched our mechanic as he and his apprentice installed the prop. I remembered there was a small, electric motor that ran a gear on the back of the prop, and there were two limit switches that were supposed to keep the gear on the motor from going off into the slot in the large gear. (There is a slot in the large gear that is wide enough to allow the gear to be put over the crankshaft on the engine.)

As I approached the front of the Bonanza, I could see the pinion motor had gone past the end of the gear teeth on the low pitch side and could not put the pitch back in to be able to control the rpm. I manually turned the large gear which got the pinion motor gear engaged into the large ring gear. I called for B1RD Aviation to send a plane to pick up my passengers. I would fly the Bonanza back to the shop to get the limit switches reset. The flight home went well. Another lesson for me.

Was I lucky again? Another great big thank you for my guardian angel.

Out of Gas!

That same Bonanza had a fuel system with a wobble pump that also served as a fuel selector. The operation was unfamiliar to the owner and at the far left in the airplane where I couldn't reach it. I was familiar with it only because I read about it in the owner's manual and had used it. I knew that you had to push down on the handle while feeling for the notch in the top of the fuel valve; then turn it to the tank position where you wanted it. This handle also served as a fuel pump by pumping it up and down.

With the propeller problem fixed and another nice day to go flying, we picked up where we left off before we realized we had a problem with the prop. After a few practice patterns at altitude, followed with balked landings, we came in to do some pattern work at Podunk Airport using the 3500-foot runway. I had been watching Bill's performance closely and noted that he was doing very well. As I was considering doing a couple more patterns with him and soloing him in his Bonanza, I noticed that the fuel gauge was nearly empty on the right tank and told Bill to change to the left tank. I watched as Bill appeared to be changing the fuel tanks, and we made a couple more patterns. While on short final, I noticed that the right tank was very low and thought I had let it run lower than I should have before I had Bill to change it. It never occurred to me that he didn't get it changed. While we were taxiing to the ramp for me to get out and solo Bill, the engine stopped due to fuel exhaustion. Needless to say, I learned another lesson on this one.

Another lucky break for me and Bill? Another thanks to my guardian angel.
Chapter 7

Famous Air Show Pilots

Gene Soucy

When I met now very well-known, airshow pilot Gene Soucy, he was new in the aerobatic, flying business and flying air taxi. Gene stopped at Podunk and flew with me in the Citabria.

I had spent a lot of time studying the Citabria's owner's manual to learn everything I could about it and the maneuvers it was certified for as it was certified in the Acrobatic category. I had spent a few hours wallowing around in the sky in the Citabria, trying to learn how to do the maneuvers in the book and a few others.

The Citabria has a flat bottom wing with quite a bit of dihedral which make it a very stable and easy to fly airplane, but not a good acrobatic airplane. The Citabria that we had was a 7ECA, which means it had 115 horsepower engine, a short wing with no flaps, and the above mentioned characteristics.

We had seat-pack parachutes to make us FAA legal while doing acrobatic maneuvers. This airplane had a recording G meter in it, which I learned to use to aid me in learning some of the maneuvers that required certain speeds and pressures. One of the maneuvers that I never did feel like I learned was that of a simple aileron roll.

I was blessed to have the opportunity to fly with Gene Soucy in 1968. Gene began flying as a professional airshow pilot in 1968. He was on a trip (I believe he was on a charter flight.) which brought him to Podunk when I was there. While he had layover time, I talked with him and even flew in the Citabria with him. Gene helped me get a better handle on the aileron roll in the Citabria. He had been flying for several years and had earned some of his early flight hours by washing airplanes in exchange for flight time. I certainly doubt that he would remember me, but I certainly remember him.

Harold Kreier

Harold Kreier died while flight testing a prototype airplane he crashed at Wichita, Kansas, in 1971. This famous airshow pilot flew a DeHavilland Chipmunk airplane.

Harold stopped in where I worked at Podunk on a number of occasions. He was a farm boy from Ashland, Kansas. Having grown up in a farming community and mostly on a farm and being a flying farmer myself, I could speak some of the same language. Harold served through World War II as a flight engineer. He was the kind of person who would help others anyway he could.

I came into the world during World War II (Dec. 6, 1942), and had heard a lot about the war from members of my family and others who had served in the war effort. My mother lost two of her brothers in the war. (Uncle Ernie Campbell, on the USS Helena, CL50 and Uncle Emory Campbell, in a training accident, ordinance explosion at an army base in Texas.)

I had watched several airshows and had begun to notice differences in the way pilots performed and the types of maneuvers they were noted for. I enjoyed watching the pilots who were smooth and precise in their maneuvers, and Harold was one of these.

Many airshow pilots specialize in high G snap maneuvers; I don't mean to discredit any of them. We all have our preferences in how we do things and the kind of things we like to watch. Harold and I had some good times talking about flying in general and aerobatics in particular. Harold was very safety-minded and would share what he knew with anyone who was interested.

The last time I saw Harold, I believe was in 1968 when he stopped for fuel and a fairly short stop on his way home to Ashland, Kansas. When Harold stopped in, he would be flying his DeHavilland Chipmunk. I remember a lesson from this visit: don't wring out an experimental or prototype airplane unless you have plenty of altitude and safety chutes. I don't really know what happened on his fatal flight, but he was testing a prototype airplane when he died. Harold had a positive impact on my aviation career and my attitude for life.

My Friend Chatt

In Pearl, Illinois, my home town, we had four service stations at one time, and the Skelly station was up for lease. Charles and Sharon Ayers from Hardin leased the station/garage/restaurant and living quarters. Sara and I were living in our 8 x 26 foot trailer. In those days you could buy a soda pop and a candy bar for a quarter, so when Sara and I had fifty cents and a little time, we went to the Skelly station restaurant and bought treats.

Sara was pregnant and Sharon had a son that was about five months old when they came to Pearl. Charles, who went by the name Chatt, was a very good mechanic and could overhaul an engine transmission and about anything else mechanical, so we had some things in common to talk about.

The garage worked for a while, but too many people came in for gas or repairs and charged it, and eventually Chatt had to sell out. I lost track of them for quite a while. Along the way, we got our Tri-Pacer, and I worked in Iowa, then Rockford, then back to Pearl. Through it all, I finally got my commercial pilot license and flight instructor and landed my job in aviation at Pekin.

During this time, Dad and my brother Bryon got into the CB business. Bryon came up for a visit and brought a handheld CB that they used as a demonstrator. I was living at Edgewood Terrace, a trailer subdivision near Forest City, Illinois. Bryon wanted to show me how the radio worked and tried calling for anyone to answer. At first, no one did.

Then he mentioned that if the antenna was higher, we would have more range. We figured out a way to climb on top of our 10 x 45 trailer, and Bryon let me use the radio. After a couple of calls, someone answered and asked where I was. I told him Forest City, and he asked if I had always lived there. I told him no, that I used to live in west central Illinois. He then asked what town, and I told him Pearl. His next question was, "Is this Lionel Smith?"

I said yes, then I asked who he was, and he told me Chatt Ayers. That was the first I had heard from him since they left Pearl, and needless to say, I was happy to hear from him.

Chatt got a job at River Oakes Dodge in Peoria and did some other jobs now and then. Chatt and I talked about flying when they were in Pearl. During that time, I got my airplane and took Chatt flying a few times. Apparently this is what got Chatt interested in flying.

Chatt asked what brought me to this area, and I told him I had a job at the local airport as a flight instructor. That did it! Chatt started learning to fly right away. Chatt soloed in the C-150; then he found an Aeronca Chief that he bought, and I got the job of teaching him to fly it. I helped Chatt through his private license in a few weeks. He was a very good student. Chatt and Sharon had a very positive impact on us and helped us immensely, a real blessing.

Moonlight Job

Don Barth was one of the few people whom I have met that always had a positive outlook on life and good effect on all that he comes in contact with. Don was one of my flight students, a very good student who progressed quickly in learning to fly an airplane.

Coming from a farm background and hunting for game animals to supplement our food supply, I had some experience with different types of firearms. In talking with Don about other things, not flying stories, I found out that Don had a gun shop, which was certainly of interest to me.

As I mentioned before, I had built a rough terrain vehicle (RTV) while I was working in the machine shop in Rockford, Illinois. Eugene Meyers (Gene) told me about a small engine lathe that was for sale. I bought it and used it to make new parts for my RTV. I was keeping my lathe in Gene's garage because I had no storage room of my own.

I started feeling guilty for taking up space in Gene's garage and soon advertised my lathe. Don Barth bought it, and with that came an opportunity for me to work part time with Don in his gun shop.

As a gunsmith, Don was very meticulous in every detail. I was glad to be a gunsmith's assistant and learn more about making simple parts for guns, reloading ammunition, mounting sights, scopes and other simple tasks that go with a gun shop. Don was always a lot of fun and loved meeting people. He always had a smile on his face and a good supply of good clean jokes to liven up the day or night as I was often there in the evening.

I believe Don knew the gun business as well as I should have known the flight training business. One of the first jobs Don gave me to do was to reload some pretty large rifle cartridges (300 Winchester, I think). Don set out the dies, powder, primers, bullets and cartridge cases. He instructed me to resize the cases, insert the primers, then fill the cases with powder and put a bullet in them. I had heard that it was very important to get the right amount of powder in the cases and questioned the fill em up idea. Don promptly pointed out a reloading guide and a powder scale. I looked up the data in the guide, balanced the scale and weighed out the exact amount of powder that was recommended for the cartridge/bullet combination that the customer wanted. I found that it filled the cases, leaving just a little room at the top to start the bullet in. I ended up doing exactly what Don had told me to do; I filled the cases with powder and put in a bullet.

I can look back on my time working with Don as a flight student and myself as a gunsmith's dummy and find nothing but good thoughts. Thanks Don.
Chapter 8

Passengers

Land This Thing and Right Now!

You know you really are an airport bum when you work there six days, and on your day off, you take your wife's motorcycle and your four-year-old son and go to the airport. My friend Don who was working as a mechanic apprentice had just finished doing a hundred-hour inspection on the Citabria a short time before Skyler and I rode in. Don smiled, pointed to the Citabria and commented that he thought I should flight check it south of the airport where he could watch.

I went to the Coke machine, got Skyler a Coke, and put him on the bench near where Don was working. I told him to stay with Don while I went for a short airplane ride. Skyler wasn't going for any part of that; he wanted to go with me. But this wasn't going to be the usual fly-it-around-the-pattern flight check. Don wanted to see some aerobatics, and I didn't think Skyler would like it.

I decided to take him along. To make it legal, he had to wear a parachute that weighed as much as he did. I took the seat bottoms out of the airplane, put the parachute on Skyler, and Don and I together got Skyler in the airplane and put the five-point military, seat belts and shoulder harness on him. Then I got equipped and in the airplane.

Skyler did enjoy flying a lot. I taxied out, did my pre-takeoff check and took off. I made an oversize pattern to get enough altitude to do a roll as we went past the south side of the airport. I looked around to Skyler and asked him if he would like to do a snap roll; I followed that question with a big smile, and he responded with a smile and a yes. After the roll, I looked back at Skyler, and his smile had been replaced with a "what happened" kind of look.

I asked him if he wanted to do another snap roll, and with no hesitation, he said no. I was still climbing and turning to go back past the airport and asked Skyler if he would like to do a loop. He smiled and said yes. I put the plane in a dive to get up enough speed to do a loop. With the limited power this Citabria had, I needed to get up to 140 mph and pull about 2.5 Gs to get a reasonably round loop out of it. The loop went well, and I looked back to see how my four year old was enjoying all the fun. Skyler wasn't smiling; he wasn't crying either. I asked him if he would like to do another loop, and the answer was another firm no.

Then I asked him if he would like to do a loop with a snap roll at the top. This sounded a little different, so he was thinking about it. I told him this maneuver was a lot of fun, so he agreed. This maneuver takes 145 on the airspeed and four Gs on the pull up to have enough momentum at the top of the loop to get a snap roll out of it. With all the noise from the pressure and the snap roll at the top, I didn't have any idea what Skyler's reaction might be. After the maneuver was completed and we were back to a normal climb, I looked back at Skyler to see how he was taking all this. This little guy was still using the "what happened" expression, but otherwise taking it all in.

At this point, we were up to 4500 feet, and I felt like the airplane was operating normally, and the flight check should probably be terminated by giving Don the good report that he had serviced it alright. I asked Skyler if he wanted to do a spin, and he promptly responded NO. I then told him that spins are a lot of fun, and it would get us back down to pattern altitude very quickly, and we could go in and see his friend Don and finish his Coke.

With all that, Skyler consented to the spin. I did a seven turn spin south of the airport and recovered from the spin on the downwind side of the pattern. I looked back at my young passenger and was a little surprised this time. There was my four-year-old son, pointing his finger at me and instructed me to land this thing and right now.

Try to picture a four-year-old sitting in the back seat of an airplane with two shoulder straps that go to the parachute, two shoulder straps that go to the seat belts and a three-inch-wide lap belt that tied the restraining belts together. A rather stern little face showed through all this, and that little finger pointed right at me. With no wavering in his voice at all, I heard, "You land this thing and right now."

We went in, and after getting little Skyler out of all the straps and getting the parachute off him, we all had a Coke and a great after-flight. Just for the record, Skyler did go with me on many other flights.

Cigarettes and 100 Octane

We had a Dr. and Mrs. Dr. Torrey in our city. Dr. Torrey had a Cessna 185 that during the cold months was on wheels and parked at our airport. During the summer, it was on floats. Mrs. Torrey had family in eastern Missouri, who were near a city-owned grass strip airport. Mrs. Torrey went to visit her mom, and when she decided to come home, she wanted the 185 to come pick her up and fly her back.

I was selected as the one to make this trip. It was also a chance to fly another type of airplane that I had never flown before. As usual, the morning got busy with time-killing things and before I knew it, it was time leave for Missouri. I was told that the plane was fueled and preflighted, so I grabbed a chart, took off on Runway 27, and kept going west.

I smelled 100 octane fuel when I got in the plane, but just thought that our line boy spilled some fuel when he serviced the plane. The smell should have been gone by that time, but it was getting stronger. I had been in the air for fifteen or twenty minutes, so I was several miles from the airport. I started looking down around the fuel selector valve in the floor and over to where the fuel lines come down the door posts and was not finding any signs of fuel.

Then I looked up at the headliner above the right door, and it was saturated with 100 octane. I didn't know what to do. I feared that if I keyed the radio, I could cause a spark that could ignite the fuel fumes. It wouldn't be a matter of just catching on fire, so I didn't dare call my boss.

I figured that my best choice was to switch to the right tank and burn off as much of the fuel as possible before I had to land in Missouri. The flight was longer than an hour and an half, so the fuel was pretty low in the right tank, and the headliner had actually dried some. I believed that the fuel was below the leak. I didn't use the radio to announce my approach to the airport either.

I was about five minutes late, and Mrs. Torrey was very obviously looking at her watch when I taxied in. I turned the airplane, so that the right side was next to Mrs. Torrey. She only had one small bag. I didn't really want to stop and restart the engine. She was in a hurry, so it didn't seem to offend her at all to get in the airplane with the engine running. I started to taxi to the departure end of the runway when Mrs. Torrey got out a cigarette and lighter. I promptly told her that I wouldn't light that. She very promptly reminded me that this was her airplane, and she hired me to fly it for her. She would smoke if she wanted to.

My response was that if she was determined to smoke, she should wait until I got out of the plane before she lit up. Apparently, that got her curious as she asked why. I pointed to the fuel stains in the headliner and told her that it was 100 octane. For some reason or other, this very headstrong woman decided she could wait until we got to our home airport to light up.

Mustang Pilot

John Melton was a fighter pilot during World War II, and some of his time was in a P-51 Mustang. After the war, he bought a Mustang and flew it now and then. John was a sales representative for Walston Aviation in Alton, Illinois. Walston was the Cessna distributor for much of the Midwest. John came by several times a year to talk to my bosses about new Cessnas. Most of the time John flew a new Cessna, but now and then he would come in his Mustang.

John would call on the radio to let us know he was coming and to find out if we had any traffic in the pattern. If the pattern was clear and he was flying the Mustang, he would come in from below the horizon at maximum power, and from the time you saw him until he was going straight up, was just a few seconds. I don't know the maximum speed for a stripped-down Mustang with all the military stuff off, but in full military dress and gross weight, it could go over 400 mph.

Normally, when John came in, he would have on a suit and tie, and everything was fit for a military inspection. One day when John came in, he didn't make his usual arrival. He just landed the mustang and had us push it in the hangar. John's suit and tie were not straight, his hair was messed up, and my boss asked him, "What happened John?"

John pointed south of the airport at a thunderstorm and commented that he was flying through the storm and hit an updraft that blew him out the top at 40,000 feet after turning him every way but loose. It was a good thing that a Mustang is a really tough airplane.

Fund Raiser for Church

There was a group of people who had been working to raise money to build a new church building in the Manito, Illinois, area. I found out about them from Gene Meyers, who was from a Baptist background like the people wanting to build a new church. These people had a piece of land to put the church on and were going to have a dedication service for the ground with some singing and other items to help raise more money for the building.

Gene asked me if I would do a mini airshow for part of their ground dedication and fund raiser. I agreed. I scheduled the Citabria for the date and time that the fund raiser was to take place. As the word circulated around the airport, Jack Tillman heard about it.

Jack was retired Air Force; his job in the Air Force was training jumpers and riggers on how to use and to repack parachutes. At this time, Jack was the president of the Illinois Valley Jump Club at the old South Pekin Airport. Jack said he would do a jump to help add some excitement to the fundraiser. This caught me a bit off guard – by surprise might be a better description. Even though I didn't have a clue what Jack was thinking, I agreed to it and asked what he had in mind.

Being from a military background and having a lot of experience in jumping, he thought it would be a good trick to have me roll the airplane and let him seemingly fall out of it during the roll. Jack was planning on being in the crowd at the fund raiser in a suit and have the announcer ask if there was anyone in the crowd that had never had an airplane ride. Before anyone else would be able to answer, Jack would ask if he could go.

I landed the Citabria in a nearby bean field with three of Jack's parachutes in the baggage area. I loaded Jack in the back seat and was taking my time taxiing to the far end of the field to get away from the crowd and give Jack time to get out of his suit and start fastening his 3 parachutes. Jack had his Para-Commander, his safety chute (which is required), and a cut-away chute that can deploy and look normal, then with a tug on another handle, the whole chute would let go as if it had broken.

There were three chutes with four ripcords all on one jumper. I know Jack had to have had a system to make sure he didn't pull the wrong one. To make the whole thing more interesting, we had not practiced any part of this maneuver. Normally, the jump plane has either the door removed or a special door that could float up to the wing out of the way, but the Citabria had a normal door on the right side of the fuselage that was somewhat of a challenge to get in and out even while sitting on the ramp.

The Citabria was a two-place, tandem seating arrangement with stick controls. The airplane was pretty heavy with two of us and three parachutes in it, and we were in a rather uneven, somewhat soft, bean field that could have made the takeoff impossible. I hadn't really given it much thought. I had stepped the field off, and if it had been a nice smooth runway, it would have been plenty. The takeoff was uneventful, but the climb was a bit slower than I had been used to in this plane. This was the heaviest load I had ever flown in it.

Jack said he needed 4500 feet of altitude above the surface to give him enough room to do what he had in mind. I flew a pretty large circle and came back over our crowd and made another even larger circle as the little airplane was struggling with the load, but Jack needed more time to get everything in order for his jump. Normally, a jumper gets his equipment on in a large airplane where he can stand up with a helper or two to make sure everything is on properly and snapped. Jack didn't have that option.

As we were approaching the field where the crowd was waiting, we were climbing through 5000 feet, and Jack told me that he was ready. I unlatched the door and tried pushing it open, but found out that with my right arm, I could not push it open far enough for anyone to get out. Jack was observing all this and said he could help push it open. I was starting to get a little concerned about all this and decided to see if I could put my left foot on the right rudder, fly the stick with my left hand, and push on the door with my right arm and right foot to make sure that Jack made it out, and at the same time do a snap roll to the right, which is against the engines torque.

Again, this is scarier to me now than it was then. A little north of the crowd, which was upwind and otherwise abeam of them, Jack gave me the que to do it. I did the snap roll, and Jack made it out while he was still on the bottom side of the roll, which is the only way it could work. Jack rolled and tumbled to make it look like he was totally out of control.

Sara was in the crowd and told me later that people were screaming and commenting about how unlucky this old fellow was to fall out of the plane on his first ride. Then Jack opened his cutaway chute, and the people had a sigh of relief and commented that he was lucky that he had a parachute on. Then Jack pulled the cutaway, and it appeared that the chute broke, and the people were all upset again; only this time Jack had gone into his professional, freefall maneuvers and opened his Para-Commander. Then the crowd knew they had witnessed a pro jumper doing his tricks. Jack landed near the crowd, and I did a few maneuvers with the plane and landed back in the bean field.

What Could Have Happened?

By using my left foot on the right rudder and my left hand on the stick, I could have failed to get the proper pressures on the controls to make the airplane roll properly and possibly getting into a spin or other bad situation.

Jack could have failed to get out on the bottom of the roll and come out on top and become fouled up on the tail of the plane which would have probably caused damage to the plane, possibly leaving it uncontrollable.

Jack could have been hurt or his gear could have been made unusable, making a safe landing unlikely.

Jack's chutes and harness could have become tangled and fouled in the tail of the plane to the point that Jack could not have gotten loose, and the plane would have been made totally unflyable, making it necessary for me to use my safety chute, providing that I would be able to get out.

Another thanks to my guardian angels.

Note: Between the time when we started planning the airshow trick and actually doing it, my brother Bryon had come for a visit and wanted to ride along while I practiced the maneuvers that I had planned to do for the airshow. Bryon was taking pictures during the maneuvers and had become airsick. He tapped me on the shoulder, put his hand over his mouth and shook his head in a negative way. By this time, I knew what that meant and went straight and level for a short distance when Bryon looked down on a field and saw a large circle that looked like a bullseye target; once again, he tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the circles on the ground, and without thinking, I promptly rolled the airplane inverted and pointed at the ground through the green house window in the top of the airplane, which is now on the bottom. If he had lost his lunch down my back at that time, I would have deserved it.

Frank Tidaback

Frank was the ground instructor when I went to work for B1RD aviation. He was an engineer for Caterpillar – his job was in designing engines and power train equipment. Frank was an observer in an F-4 Phantom in Vietnam.

End of my job at B1RD aviation

Along the way, B1RD Aviation hired another flight instructor who had a lot more ratings than I did, and an attitude I didn't. B1RD Aviation hired him so they could get a VA flight school. The new instructor made life miserable for me, and I turned in my two-weeks' notice. B1RD Aviation gave me my final check within the hour.

I was taught to do things in a proper and business-like way as much as possible, and that an employee should give a two-weeks' notice before leaving a job. I was unemployed and had a wife and three kids at home – now what?

Don Barth was instrumental in B1RD firing the above mentioned instructor some time later.
Chapter 9

Non-airplane Stories

Eugene Meyers, Friend and Christian Brother

Sara and I had started a home church in our 10 x 45 mobile home and had some friends who helped start a church in Manito, Illinois. One of our friends from this activity was Eugene Meyers, who was a machinist for Timke Manufacturing at Green Valley, Illinois. Gene told me to come to the shop and put in an application. I did, and they hired me as a machinist. Employed again, in just a few days.

I am aware that God looks after his people, but still amazed that He would do things like that for me, or was it just my guardian angel?

I worked for Timke Manufacturing in Green Valley, Illinois, for a couple of years. I ran production on different machines; then they discovered that I could weld, so that was included in my job description. After a while, Mr. Timke noticed that when he gave me a machining job, I could set up my machine and start making parts. Before long, I was doing set-up for others to run, which was a blessing to me because I didn't like running production. The setup position had me doing something different quite often, then back to my bench where I worked on the experimental projects for Caterpillar.

I had never really had a vacation at other jobs because I would take my vacation pay and work too. At Timke Manufacturing, this was different because they did mostly contract work for Caterpillar. Two weeks each summer, Caterpillar would shut down all their lines and do an inventory. So Timke would also shut down during the same two weeks.

Eugene Meyers, who worked at the bench next to mine, had spent some time in Arizona working in a machine shop in Tempe. I rarely got through the day without hearing about how much better things would be if we were in Arizona. So I started making plans to go there. I was determined that I had to see it for myself. It could be one of those very nice days that we occasionally got in Illinois, the clear blue, 72º kind of days, and Gene would tell me how much better it would be in Arizona. If I had heard the weather in Arizona, I would report it to Gene – like I heard that it was 115º in Phoenix yesterday. He would counter with yea but because of the low humidity it doesn't feel hot. I had to find out for myself; that sounded hot to me.

First Vacation

I had been planning this trip for some time. I knew we didn't have enough money, even with my vacation pay, to go on such a trip unless we camped out instead of using motels and restaurants. We had a 9 x 9 umbrella tent, a two-burner Coleman camp stove, an eighty-quart ice chest, and two small boys who were four and six years old. And Sara was seven-months pregnant with Kayla. We borrowed Sara's father's rather large, car top carrier to haul our stuff in. I made a plywood floor to make the rear seat more like a station wagon so the boys would have room to play or take a nap on this long trip. Sara and I had been studying our maps and planning our route to take us near federal campgrounds, which were free back then.

The first day of travel took us to a campground in western Kansas. This campground had a nice lake and some very nice primitive campsites where we could pitch a tent for free. They had an outhouse and water hydrants, which all seemed like a fun place to spend the night.

We put up the tent, started the camp stove, and had a great evening meal and fellowship with each other. We played with the boys and let them help us with the camp chores. This kind of time slipped away from us so quickly and causes me to think: why didn't I make it a point to do more with my family while I still had them?

Sometime after midnight, I was awakened by thunder; soon Sara was awake as well, and we noticed that the storm was getting close. The wind came up, and it wasn't long before the tent stakes were letting go. Sara and I grabbed the boys and put them in the car. We barely got back to the tent in time to keep it from blowing all the way to Illinois. After quite a struggle, we managed to get our portable home in the trunk and spent the rest of the night in the car.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

After our interesting night at the campground in Kansas, we gathered up the boys and the camping equipment and headed for Colorado. We found a free federal campground near Colorado Springs, pitched our tent and spent the evening. This night got very cold; it was below freezing with light snow. (This is August, ya know.)

Some kind of small animal crawled around on our tent, which made a very interesting. By shining the light toward the noise, we saw the image of small animals, probably squirrels or rats. The next morning after a fairly restless night, we got up, started our camp stove, and fixed some breakfast. (I regret that when Sara wanted to go to Seven Falls, I thought we didn't have the time or the money.)

After packing our things back in the car, we drove to Highway 24, then west to the town of Divide. We stopped for a while to look at things in the stores. For many years we had heard about the Great Divide. This town that is named Divide is sitting on the ridge that is called the Great Divide.

We then drove down Highway 67 to Cripple Creek, made another short stop, and looked at some of the tourist things. Cripple Creek was a mining town. The folks there told us it would be very interesting to drive down Highway 67 to Highway 50 which was about twenty miles. This drive was a very scary and interesting twenty miles; it took us three-and-a-half hours of driving. Many places on this road had only one lane and only occasionally a place where you could pull over to let someone pass.

When we left Cripple Creek, we were driving on a four-lane highway, which suddenly became a two-lane highway, which soon became a mostly sand road. The sand road had two lanes wide enough you could meet or pass a car on it. As we progressed down into the canyons, the road became mostly one lane wide with few places to pass except in the little wide spots that were set aside for passing.

When we got to Hwy. 50, we headed west. After a while, we saw a sign to Royal Gorge and took that turn. We drove our very heavily-loaded car across the swinging bridge which is 1053 feet above the river. This was a very extraordinary event for folks from the flat lands of central Illinois. I heard that they closed the bridge for a while, but recently reopened it.

On the road again, we spent the next night at a campground in southwest Colorado. I can't remember the town, but it was near the Cliff Dwellings. This was a quiet and restful, cold night. It seemed like the temperatures were near freezing and windy.

Sara and I decided we wanted to see the Cliff Dwellings. We had to do a lot of climbing, and we had two small boys with us. Skyler would have been six, and Robby would have been four. Sara was seven-months pregnant with our daughter Kayla. When the going got rough, climbing ladders and using narrow bridges, I carried Skyler, and Sara carried Robby. After the visit to the Cliff dwellings, we headed down to Four Corners. At Four Corners there's a large rock with a circle drive around it. After you have made the circle in a few seconds, you have been in four states: Colorado, Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico. This is the only place in the U.S. where four states corner at the same spot.

Then we went west to Tonolea, Arizona, where we got off Hwy. 160 to go through the Hopi Reservation. From there, we went southwest to a campground in Grand Canyon Park. While we were putting our tent up, Sara said something about a feeling that something bad had happened at home. I explained it away as travel weariness and probably nothing more. (It was a real message however.) We enjoyed our visit to the Grand Canyon and our family time there. The next morning, we slept in and took our time about breaking camp and loading up to move on.

We made this a short day of travel as we discovered a campground near Flagstaff, Arizona. This night was also peaceful, quiet and cold, and the next morning we had three inches of snow on the ground. Wow, this is August, and we are in Arizona? I was experienced in driving on snow and ice in Illinois so this wasn't exactly a real treat. (There are several peaks near Flagstaff that are above 8000 feet, and one that is over 12000 north of the city.)

After eating our breakfast and gathering up our gear, we went to town to look around for a little while. We gassed our car and headed south to Phoenix. We couldn't wait to see if Phoenix was as nice as our friend Eugene Meyers said it was. So far on this trip, we had been rained on, nearly blown away, very cold and even snowed on. Our old Dodge was running fine though, and hadn't caused us any problems.

We were going to be losing altitude over the next few miles as we drove on Hwy. 17. Sara tuned our AM radio in to different stations until she finally found one in Phoenix. We listened to see what was going on, and it wasn't long until the weather man commented on how nice it was with the cold front that came through. It had dropped the temperature to 113º yesterday.

We had come down two or three thousand feet, and it was already getting very warm. Our car didn't have air conditioning, and our cold drinks were gone. We did have some not-very-cool water. The farther we went, the hotter it got; and I was already getting a little woozy from all the heat that I was not used to.

I remembered that Eugene assured me that the heat in Arizona didn't feel hot? We were very hot, thirsty and tired. Our supplies were nearly exhausted. We were just a few miles from Phoenix when an Arizona sandstorm hit. It was so hot we could barely breathe, but had to have the windows closed. With the windows open, it was so dusty we couldn't breathe. I didn't know how long these storms lasted, or what to do.

I noticed that we had wide shoulders with the signs set way back so, even though I could see less than ten feet, I decided to drive with two wheels on the shoulder and two on the pavement and go slow, but keep moving. If all four tires started running smooth, I would turn slightly to the right until two were bumping along again on the shoulder. Likewise, if all four started bumping along, I would turn slightly to the left to get two wheels back on the pavement. I know this probably wasn't very smart, but at this point, I thought we could get buried in the sand and die from the heat and dehydration.

After about a half hour, the storm let up, and we could see Phoenix city limits and a supermarket. We pulled in and found some cold drinks and other things to replenish our camping supplies. When we were headed to the checkout, in came a thunderstorm with the heaviest rain that I had ever seen. I could see our car in the parking lot with water up to the bottom of the doors. We needed to check out and get to where we could enjoy getting rehydrated. The lady at the register leaned her elbow on top of the register, looked out at the rain, and commented about the beautiful rain.

I asked the lady to check us out and let us be going. She slowly responded, and we got checked out. By the time we got to the door, the rain had stopped, but there was a lot of water in the parking lot. We got drinks out while we were waiting for the water to go down. We were all very thirsty, and our little fellows, Skyler and Robby, took to the drinks like Sara and I did. It was probably a wonder we didn't make ourselves sick by drinking so much so fast.

After getting our ice chest repacked and our other items stowed away, we looked at our map to see if we could find a federal campground near Phoenix. We saw one to the east of Phoenix, so we headed that way. The roads weren't marked very well, and I wasn't sure we were headed the right direction. We came to an intersection, perhaps Apache Junction, where there was a little store/gas station and a State Trooper. I pulled in next to the police car to ask the trooper if this road went to that campground. He looked at our map and said the fork to the left would get us there.

Then he looked in my car and saw two small boys and a pregnant woman. He asked if I was planning to take my family camping up there. My answer was yes. He commented that he would not recommend that at all. I asked if there was a problem with wild animals? I had heard stories about wolves, bears, and mountain lions in the mountains and wasn't worried about that because I had my 30-06 (high powered rifle) with me. The trooper lowered his voice a bit and said, "If you look over there," as he nodded his head, "you will see six very good reasons why I would not take my family up there."

I saw six men, possibly part Mexican, part Indian and all probably on drugs or alcohol. They were sitting there with their arms folded and giving a mean stare at the State Trooper. I got the message; then I asked the trooper if it would be alright if I put my revolver under my pillow. The answer I got was quite a surprise. Here we have an Arizona trooper, a car load of people from Illinois, and he responds that if you have a side arm with you, you should load it and wear it the whole time you are in Arizona.

At this, I went to the trunk, got my .357 Magnum Revolver, made it a point to stand where our audience could watch, and I loaded all six chambers. I strapped the holster on and put the revolver in it. I thanked the trooper and got in our car. By now, the desire to go to a primitive campground had diminished a lot. We drove back to Phoenix and found a motel room where we spent two days and nights in Phoenix. This is the only time we used a motel and also the only time we didn't have some kind of weather during the night on the whole trip.

During our stay at Phoenix, we went to the zoo and other Phoenix attractions that were free. The second day we drove down to Tucson to visit the Old Tucson movie set. This was a real treat. We had a camera with us and took a few pictures of different things including parts of the movie set. We also took pictures by the very large cacti in the area.

When we got back to our room, we needed to plan our travel for the next day. According to our budget, we barely had enough money to get us home.

We loaded up and headed east, making a short stop near Las Cruces to let the boys play in the white sand. The older kids on this trip thought it was fun to climb the dunes and get white sand in our shoes as well. Couldn't stay long though because it was very hot. We survived quite well on the road with our windows down, heading northeast and planning to stop overnight at Capitan Wilderness area near Arebela, New Mexico. This was a few miles northwest of Roswell. As we turned on the last road into the camping area, I saw a very large, mountain rattler crossing the road. This snake reached from the shoulder almost to the centerline of the blacktop road.

I decided that as heavy as our car was I could run over the snake and kill it. It felt like I had hit a hickory stick laying in the road. The tires went bump, bump as we went over the snake. All it did was make the snake really angry with us; it started coming after us. I got my .357, which by now had some of my homemade snake loads (shot shells) in it, and I shot the snake, took its rattles, and we went on up the primitive campground.

Now we know what some of the residents look like, don't you know? I never thought about the possibility that the snake might be a protected resident. Our campground was quite high, possibly 6000 to 7000 feet. This night we had more critters crawling around on our tent. We had some wind and rain also, and for sure if we had to go out, we took two flashlights and a partner to watch for the local residents. We didn't see any other campers on this stop.

The next day, we packed up our things and headed back down the mountain. When we got to the intersection where the park road joined Hwy. 368, there was a pickup with a camper on it that had overturned. We stopped to see if we could help anybody, but nobody was hurt, and they had help coming. While we were standing there, I looked down at Sara's feet. She was standing on a dead coral snake. We decided it was dead before Sara stepped on it in her flip flops.

We drove south to Hwy. 70 and headed on northeast. Hwy. 70 goes to Clovis, then into Texas where it joins Hwy. 60. We joined I-40 at Amarillo, then on to I-44. We thought about the toll road versus non-toll road and decided to take the toll road. We were tired by then. We found a campground near Vinita, Oklahoma, where we spent our last night on the road.

This campground was the largest, busiest campground on the whole trip; it had mostly paved streets to the camp sites, and it was the first place we camped where we had neighbors close enough to visit with. We spent some time with our next-door neighbors; then around 10:00, we went over to our tent thirty feet or so away and put our boys to bed. We turned our Coleman lantern to low light, and Sara and I had our pop and sit-and-talk time before we were ready to turn in. We knew this would be our last night out if nothing went wrong.

While we were sitting there in the shadows, Sara noticed two boys slipping around in the dark from tent to tent or RV. When they were almost to our car, I told Sara to keep an eye on them, and I would get the revolver. If they tried to take something, I would fire a round into the air to scare them off. So far so good, but it gets better.

I thought our boys were probably asleep by now, so I carefully unzipped the tent just enough that I could slip the revolver out from under my blanket. Robby saw me and shouted, "What are you doing with the gun, Daddy?!"

The shadows that had been slipping around suddenly hit the blacktop running. You could hear their bare feet popping the pavement. I am pretty sure they didn't come back that night.

Last day on the road, we loaded up, looked at what we had left for supplies and money, and headed for Illinois. After a very long day, we made it back to Forrest City, Illinois, and our home at Edgewood Terrace trailer park. Twelve days on the road, and we had some kind of weather on ten of them, and the other two were terribly hot.

Praise the Lord for His watchful care and the great time our young family had together with memories that still linger.

After we were home, we found out more about that message that Sara received at Grand Canyon several days ago.

Sara: While we were still at the Grand Canyon, Lionel and I were looking out into the canyon when something came over me, and I told Lionel we needed to call my mom and dad because I felt that something was really wrong. I had never had a feeling like that before, and Lionel comforted me. He told me that he was sure that everything was fine.

After a while I felt better, and since that feeling had not happened to me before, I just shrugged it off, and we went on with our vacation.

When we arrived home, I found out that my step-nephew, Bobby Shepherd, eighteen years old, had been killed in a car accident about the same time I had that horrible feeling. I hated that we missed Bobby's funeral. He was a fine young man.

Not ever having that type of feeling before, I had a long talk (prayer) with God and asked him to not let me be aware of things like that again. He honored that prayer. I have not had that happen to me again.
Chapter 10

More Aviation Stories

After my job ended at the airport, I worked in a machine shop. I still worked part time in Don's gun shop and flew with Chatt now and then. After a few months, I decided to check out the Havana, Illinois, airport. I found out that they had a little office there and few hangars. They had a couple of airplanes based there, but no operator. I was still hanging on to my dream of being a professional pilot and thought this could be a business opportunity. What I didn't know was that it was very difficult for someone with little education and no money to get a business going, but I decided I would give it a shot.

I got some pilot supplies and ground school equipment, and I started running a ground school, selling supplies and getting people coming in who wanted to learn to fly.

I found a nice 1964 C-172 that was for sale, but I had no way to buy it. I was still working at the machine shop, but couldn't swing it on my own. I mentioned it to Chatt and Don Barth, and they were willing to help me buy the airplane. So I had an airplane to go with the airport idea. There was also an Aeronca Champ based on the field that I could use; it looked like the business was taking off. After a few months at Havana Airport, however, we just weren't making it.

I heard that Mt. Hawley Aviation in Peoria, Illinois, needed a part-time, flight instructor. I went there and checked on the possibilities. They hired me on a part-time basis. (They wanted me to be there forty hours a week and pay me only if I flew.) I think that condition made it part-time. I did fly several hours a week there and was still doing a day or two a week at Havana and spending a lot of time driving between places.

One of the interesting things that happened was that one of the regular pilots at Mt. Hawley had his twin Cessna in for an annual inspection and wanted to rent a Cessna 150 (a small, single engine airplane). The person waiting on him knew the guy and knew that he went through private pilot in a Cessna 310, which is a multi-engine airplane. The customer thought that his license would automatically make him qualified for the lesser airplane. This was another lesson on regulations that I had never thought about.

Another very unusual event happened at Mt. Hawley, but I didn't witness it. A retired, airline captain had rented a C-150 to take his wife for an airplane ride to look at the fall colors along the river. When returning to the airport to land and while they were on the final approach to the runway, the pilot had a heart attack and died. His wife was not a pilot and didn't have a clue what to do and did nothing. The airplane was properly set up, and the controls trimmed out, so the airplane landed on the runway and slowly ran off in the grass and came to a stop. I was told the old woman was alright, and the airplane was not damaged.

I did have the opportunity to fly a twin-engine Navion, which is a very rare conversion. I had flown several single-engine Navions. The Navion twin is a conversion as the factory didn't actually build any twins. The Camair Company built thirty-three, and the Ling Company built eighty-five. I don't know which conversion I flew, but it was obviously a very rare airplane. .

I also had the opportunity to fly a Citabria 7 KCAB, which had a 150 horsepower engine with inverted fuel and oil systems to allow for extended inverted flight.

In addition to these opportunities, other interesting things happened. Jack Lee, a customer of the folks who first hired me in the area, had sold Jack several airplanes. This was the first place I had met Jack. He came to me one day at Mt. Hawley and asked me to go with him for a coffee. I wasn't busy at the moment and went with him. He told me that he had an airport leased at Lake of the Ozarks and wanted to hire me to manage his airport, do flight training, charter service, and aircraft sales. I was overwhelmed thinking, WOW what a break.

Jack set it up so that he would take me and my family to the Lake to show us the place where I would be working. Jack had a V-tail Bonanza, a V-35A at the time, which could seat all of us. Sara and I had three children by then. Jack wanted to pick us up at the Waddell Airport near Manito, Illinois, which was just a few miles north of where we lived. I didn't know anything about Jack or his piloting ability, but I figured he must know what he is doing to be able to fly a high performance single like the Bonanza.

We loaded up with Jack and me in the front seats, Sara and Kayla in the middle seats, and our two boys in the back seats. Our son Robby gets airsick pretty easy, and I didn't know at that time that the Bonanza tail sways a lot and is very likely to make most anyone airsick. My first scare on this trip was when we ran off the left side of the runway on takeoff. Sara noticed this as well. Jack pulled the airplane into the air with the stall warning going off.

We headed south and climbed to 4500 feet. There was light to moderate turbulence, and in a very short time, Robby was upchucking his breakfast. I asked Jack to land at Springfield Airport, so we could get Robby cleaned up and feeling better. While Sara was taking care of the kids, Jack and I went to the Flight Service Station to check on the weather for the rest of the trip.

The weather was going to be overcast with turbulence most of the way. The cloud tops were only forecast to be around 7000, so I suggested to Jack that we should file an instrument flight plan and go on top to get out of the turbulence. He agreed.

I filed the flight plan, picked up the necessary charts and got us all loaded. To make things more interesting, the airplane we were flying had a single yoke, throw-over control system, and Jack had the control yoke. This airplane also had another item that I had not seen before; it had stowable rudder pedals on my side. So he had the yoke, the instruments, and the rudder pedals, and I had him file IFR.

We were loaded up and taxiing to our departure runway when ground control called us to give us our IFR clearance. I took the clearance as Jack was getting us to the runway. Our clearance should have put us on top of the clouds, which would make it smooth. At this point, I had completely forgotten about running off the runway at Waddell's Airport. We were cleared to Runway 22, which was 8000 feet long and 150 feet wide. We had our clearance to takeoff and climb on runway heading which was 220º until passing 3000 feet, then on course.

As soon as the tower said 69N cleared for takeoff, Jack opened the throttle on 285 horsepower, and we started down the runway. We started in the center of the runway, but in a few seconds, we were headed for the left side of the runway again. I was pushing on the right rudder that is disconnected and stowed in the floor and making no difference in our direction at all. As we are about to go off the edge of this very wide runway, Jack pulled us into the air with the stall warning going off again. I was beginning to think I made a serious mistake in having my family with us this time. The turbulence was very obvious as we climbed out. Jack engaged the autopilot, and the airplane was wallowing all over the sky.

I told Jack that they were watching us on radar, and we were not even holding even to the heading they gave us; FAA would be getting on our case. As I was telling Jack all this stuff, I took the right side of the yoke that he had in front of him and tried to keep the airplane pointed the right general direction, hoping I didn't offend Jack. I was still thinking this trip was going to be the big boost I needed to get me on my way to making a decent living in aviation.

Robby was getting queasy again, but as we were climbing on course, the autopilot did much better, and the air got smoother. We climbed out of the clouds at 7000 feet, the air was perfectly smooth, and the sight was beautiful. The flight was to be less than an hour and a half to Lee C. Fine Airport at Lake of the Ozarks where we flew the approach to get under the clouds. Jack used the autopilot for the approach by turning the heading bug for the heading changes, disengaging the altitude hold, and reducing power for the descent. I was very uneasy about this ride. We broke out about 3000 and had good visibility to fly over to the Grand Glaize Airport where Jack had his operation.

After a brief tour of the office and the mobile home we would be living in, getting introduced to Fred Radel, the local aircraft mechanic, looking at Jacks fleet of rental cars, and a short drive down to the Grand Glaize Bridge, we loaded up to go back to Illinois. We took off on Runway 32. This runway was 3200 feet long and 60 feet wide. By this time, I was very concerned about this takeoff because he had nearly gone off the edge of a runway that was 150 feet wide.

The wind was slightly from the right, which helped to counteract the left-turning tendency caused by the torque of the engine. Just as the left main wheel went off the runway, Jack looked at me, pulled back on the yoke and with a big smile on his face said I sure hope she flies. I was thinking I sure hope she does too. We barely managed to keep it out of the trees on the left side of the runway and out of the wires at the north end of the airport. Maybe I would be able to breathe again.

Sara told me later that she thought we were goners a couple of times. We made it back to Waddell Airport in good weather and with Jack's word that I had the job. I was still thinking this was a good deal, but I would not take my family on a flight with Jack unless I had a set of functioning controls.

This was the last chapter for me and my family in the Forest City and Pekin, Illinois, area. The next portion of our lives would be an exciting few years at Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. I'll tell you about this in my next book.

Are you a Jonah?

As you have read, God spared me many times. God gave me instructions for all the above flights, and I, in most cases, ignored them. Has God ever called you to do something and you didn't do it?
About the Author

My name is Lionel Jean Smith; I was born December 6, 1942 in Pittsfield, Illinois. Pittsfield is the county seat of Pike County. My father, Jesse E. Smith, started my aviation career when he gave me a control-line, model airplane when I was ten years old. The next summer, he took the family to Lake of the Ozarks where he hired a seaplane operator to take us for an airplane ride. This was my first exposure to a forced landing as the plane lost power on takeoff due to insufficient fuel.

I married Sara McCallister on January 17, 1962. God blessed us with three wonderful children, two boys and a girl. I have been involved in aviation since 1963 and training pilots since 1966. I currently have over eight thousand hours of instruction given and am still learning how to be a better pilot/instructor.

A brief outline of my experience would include flying farmer, flight instructor, training pilots from basic through CFI (certificated flight instructor), teaching basic aerobatics, towing banners, flying both land and sea in single engine airplanes, MEI (multi-engine instructor), fire patrol pilot, 135 pilot SEL (single engine land) and MEL (multi-engine land), 135 operator, AG plane operator and many others, all in less than 12,500 pounds aircraft.

I also hold A&P with IA (Inspector Authorization). My first professional job as flight instructor was for B1RD Aviation at Pekin, Illinois, after which I instructed for the Mount Hawley Airport for a while; then I was the FBO at the Havana, IL airport, (Smith's Flying Service started here) then moved to Lake of the Ozarks to manage the FBO at the Linn Creek Grand Glaize Airport which is located in Osage Beach, Missouri. I then became the chief pilot and director of operations for Lake Air Flying Service, air taxi and flight training operation at Kaiser, Missouri, and on an agreement with Skyways Airline, I flew some of the scheduled flights for them. Next I became FBO at the Camdenton, Missouri airport. I got a divine call to start a missionary pilot training service during the fall of 1978 and didn't do it. I was in a very serious AG plane accident at Camdenton on April 29th of 1979. That ended Smith's Flying Service for a while.

Sara and I re-started Smith's Flying Service in 1991 at Mountain View, Missouri, where we did flight training, aircraft rental and maintenance, fire patrol, photo flights, and other operations.

I got my wakeup call in 1993 (see testimony). Sara and I started Christian Wings for the World Inc. in June of 1996. We ran our flight school and Christian Wings for the World together at Mountain View, Missouri, until November of 1999. At that time, we closed our "mom and pop" flight school, Smith's Flying Service, so we could devote everything we had to serving our Lord God in training pilots for His air force.

We received a title deed in the mail the first week of January 1999 for Dove airstrip, located near Ironton, Missouri, and moved there November of 1999. Since then, we have trained a number of pilots who are serving in the uttermost parts of His kingdom, including Indonesia, Africa, Philippines, Alaska and others. (christianwings.org)

Since I was a small boy, I have been fascinated with flight. I believe that mankind has been jealous of birds and in early times, other creatures that could fly. I took my first flight lesson in 1963. I had been married to my wife Sara a little over a year when one day we were riding around in our 1957 Chrysler Windsor, and we arrived near the Alton, Illinois, Civic Memorial Airport. The flying bug was biting me.

When we drove into the Walston Aviation parking lot, I saw a sign advertising an introductory flight lesson for five dollars. In those days, it was unusual for us to have that much money, but this day we had close to twice that much, so we agreed to spend the five if we could make the flight together. We went in and found a flight instructor who agreed to take us in a Cessna 172 so Sara could go along. This was Sara's first ride ever in an airplane.

The flight lesson was nothing more than a short ride in an airplane, no real instruction, no logbook, but it sure set the hook. I knew I had to learn to fly. On the way home from Alton, we had stopped for gas in Grafton, Illinois, and the "learn-to-fly" bug hadn't given me any slack all this time. I asked the man who was pumping the gas (Oh yes, we had service stations back then.) if he knew of anyone in the area who did flight training. He said there was a man who was the manager for an orchard who also did flight training. He gave us instructions to his place.

We went to the orchard and met with John Surgeon, who actually gave me my first lesson, including my first logbook, and subsequently trained me all the way through flight instructor. John was an instructor for the Army Air Corps during World War II, training fighter pilots. The airplane John had for a trainer was a Cessna 170, and the strip was a little over a quarter mile long with trees on both sides and a fence and power lines on both ends. The wires were a short distance away from the ends of the strip. I didn't have a clue that tail wheel airplanes were considered to be difficult to fly or that this strip was short and obstructed. God was preparing me from my first lesson to do what I am doing today, training missionary pilots. John made sure that I knew that if I wasn't going to be able to climb over the wires or turn before I got to them, to make absolutely sure I went under them (don't hit the wires).

I didn't realize how special John Surgeon was to my flight training program until years later and after he passed on from this life. I hope to pass on information in this book that will enable pilots to better understand and manage a light aircraft in situations other than what would be considered "normal" in general aviation standards.
Lionel's Testimony

I opened an FBO (fixed base operation) at Camdenton, Mo. In March of 1978, providing air-taxi service, flight training, banner towing, aircraft rental, aerial photo flights, sight seeing rides, ag plane services, etc., as well as managing the airport for the city, which included everything from pumping gas, cutting grass, pushing snow, and many other duties. I was busy. Business was very good. At this time I had my wife working with me at the airport as she could; she was also working at another full time job and taking care of our three children Skyler, Robert, and Kayla. Sara was also very busy.

The Lord called me, (I do believe in Divine calling), to start a ministry to provide missionary pilot training and air support for missionaries in third world countries in the fall of 1978.

I heard the call and started making plans, I drew sketches and made notes pertaining to new hangars, classrooms, parts room, new aircraft etc. that would be necessary for the ministry, but then I got too busy making money and having fun to have time for God.

1979 started off really good, I had students flying, my air taxi business was active, I had banner tow contracts for the summer, and my ag plane business was getting scheduled for a great year. My family was all healthy, my three kids were in school, and OOPS, you guessed it, I wasn't doing anything for missionary support. I took my family to church on Sunday and was putting money in the plate when it came by (probably not enough). But God expects us to be willing to give self.

During March of 1979 I flew on several tons of chemicals and seed to top-dress wheat fields in Missouri and Illinois, and everything seemed to be going great. I finished top dressing wheat in April and after a brief pause in the ag work I started getting calls to spray some of the field for weeds and insects. On April 28th I had sprayed some acreage with 2-4-D Amine to take out the weeds, then I was scheduled for the 30th to put on some Alpha-Tox on another job to kill the weevils. Sunday afternoon, the 29th, I was preparing to do the job on the 30th, and one of the things that needed to be done was to flush out the spray system to make sure that there was no left over weed killer in it. The ag plane that I was using had a wind mill pump that had to be in flight in order to work. Steve Butler, my assistant) and I serviced the plane and loaded detergent and water in the spray tank, and I took off. The airport where we were based was blessed with a really good crop of dandelions so I was going to give them the 2-4-D residue that was in the spray system. After the second spray run and in the middle of a working turn, the engine quit. The year that had been great 'till now – and got real bad real quick. Without power the airplane came down very quickly and with insufficient air speed to flare for landing, the landing was very hard.

The ambulance took me to the hospital at Osage Beach, Missouri were the doctor told Sara that I was going to die and they could do nothing. A lady sitting in the emergency room told Sara to have the ambulance to take me to University Medical Center in Columbia, which she did.

When the ambulance arrived at University Medical Center, Dr. Robert Gaines and his surgical team were there (when was the last time you tried to see a doctor at 9:30 on a Sunday night?) God put the best there for me. They told Sara that my back was crushed and that I had a massive brain hemorrhage, but that my vital signs were good and I would live, but it was unlikely that I would walk again.

After 56 days at medical center, I finally talked them into letting me go home (it was certainly against their wishes). I wore a back brace for five months and had to have a lot of help from my family.

I ended up with spinal cord injury that resulted in numbness in various parts of my body, loss of bladder and bowel control and other functions, some damage to eye movement and hearing, and considerable pain. God healed and strengthened me in the areas that were necessary to do what he had called me to do in 1978.

During the summer of '89 I was told that I should go for a flight physical, and I questioned that (who, me?) After several specialist tests, FAA finally granted my medical certificate.

Sara was working and I knew the budget was pretty tight, but I wanted to get back into flying and I started looking for a rental plane and a flight instructor in the area. I found George Meyer in Willow Springs, Missouri and he told me that the only rental plane in the area was a Piper Colt that belonged to Paul Morrison in Houston, Missouri. I got together with George and the "colt" and successfully completed my BFR (Biennial Flight Review) and once again had a current pilot certificate.

Now I needed an airplane, and rentals weren't available in the area, so after talking it over with Sara we decided that if we adjusted the already tight budget and sold some calves and pigs, and some other items, we get together $10,000 with what our banker would lend us.

Sara and I drove into Willow Springs to talk to Pat Stuart at his car lot. Pat is also a pilot and I thought he might know of a plane for sale. I was expecting to find an old run out two place airplane for that price but Pat had a nice looking Tri-pacer (4 place) with a low time engine for $10,500 (out of limit). I asked Pat if he would take it to Paul for a pre-buy inspection, and he agreed. Paul found two cylinders to have very low compression and Pat reduced the price to $9,500 (in limit) and we found a friendly banker at the Mercantile Bank in Willow Springs.

In the fall of '89 I decided to find out if I could renew my flight instructor certificate on a Class III medical. I found out that I could but I would have to do another check ride. FAA in St. Louis referred me to Dave Tharp for my CFI (Certified Flight Instructor) renewal. Dave is a pastor at a church in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I was successful at renewing my CFI.

At this point I started doing some instructing in the Tri-pacer N8492D, at the Willow Springs Airport.

I need to back up a bit. During the years that I wasn't able to fly I sold the airplanes I had, and one of these was a Cessna Skyhawk that Noel Orchard bought. (Noel Vern Orchard is an Elder at West Eminence, Missouri.)

Noel was Mayor of Eminence when he found out that I was flying again, and he knew the Mayor of Mountain View, Missouri. When he talked to Mayor Joan Smith of Mountain View about me, she came and asked me if I would run a flight school for her city. At this time I had no intention of ever again being a Professional Instructor, but without even hesitating, I said yes.

In May of 1990, Smith's Flying Service was opening a flight school, this time in Mountain View, Missouri. Things got going pretty quickly and by the summer of 1993 Smith's Flying Service had 2 Cessna 150's, a Tri-pacer and a twin engine Cessna-310. One day during the summer of '93 I sat down in my office and closed the door, no one else in the room, then I heard these words (REMEMBER 1978). I certainly did!

Second call/ Reminder of first call!

After my goose bumps (Jesus bumps) and my hair settled back down, I started calling around looking for a place where I could get the specialty training that I needed to be able to give missionary pilot training. I called Moody Bible College in Chicago and they referred me to their Aviation School in Tennessee. The Director of Moody Aviation told me that the only way he could help would be to send an information packet that would include a list of missionary aviation organizations, which he promptly did.

I am going to say the Lord clearly led me to Tribal Air (New Tribes Mission) and the communication number on that list.

I dialed the number for TAC, but before the phone could ring I hung up. I heard this voice telling me these people wouldn't give me the time of day, let alone flight training. Immediately after that another voice reminded me: I quit once before, that I should hit the redial and complete the call.

I did. Brother Jim Ferguson, then the Chief Pilot of Tribal Air Communications answered the phone and soon told me, "sure we will help, when can you come to Arizona?" I told him I would be there the last week of September.

To summarize the trip to Arizona, we had beautiful weather all the way including a tailwind, (the wind is normally from the west, this time it was from the east, imagine that!) While I was there I flew with Jim Ferguson, Chief Pilot, then Paul Dye, TAC's Senior Pilot. After considerable testing, and teaching me the specialty things I would need to know, Paul took me to the graduation strip in New Mexico. After successfully landing and taking off from there I was given a Certificate of Graduation.

Back home, I was again flying students, and looking for a plane that would be suitable for missionary pilot training. In 1994 Phil Smet, New Tribes Missionary Pilot/Venezuela contacted me, asking if I would train his daughter Rachel to fly (a nudge to keep me on track). Also in 1994, Sara and I attended a Missionary Pilot Safety Seminar in Sanford, Florida. (Another nudge)

In the meantime we noticed that most of the students we were training were preachers, elders, deacons, Sunday school teachers, missionaries, and dedicated Christians. (again not a normal thing at a public flight school) (another nudge).

Then we met Paul and Janice Wedin (who had made a lot of missionary trips to Mexico. They also owned Promise Land Airpark (appropriate name, don't you think?) Paul and Jan offered a lot of encouragement and support.

Sara was cooking at the Rock Garden Church Camp at Eminence at the time, were she met Marvin Valentine, who was interested in what we're doing and offered to help out. Marvin sent out a mailer to various churches and also suggested the name Christian Wings for the World.

Greg Gale, a pastor from Summersville, came to us for flight training and soon he and his wife, Elaine became a part of CWW.

Richard Castle, (pastor at the Christian Church at Caleo, Missouri) came and helped us get things together to help us get our corporate charter.

In the meantime, we bought a 1953 Cessna 180 2941A to use for our missionary pilot training. In June of 1996, CWW, Inc. was a reality (Wow, praise the Lord).

After receiving the Corporate Charter, Sara hurried to get a frame for it and present it to me. I hung it on the wall in our classroom then I sat down to look at it and ponder, and ask God, what do I do now, how do I get the word out that we are here. In a few days I got a phone call from Brother Jim Ferguson at TAC telling me that he had gotten a call from a young man in the Netherlands that needed a complete tail wheel and C-180/185 orientation to prepare him for an evaluation by MAF (Missionary Aviation Fellowship), the biggest of the big guys in missionary air support). Geerten Vreugendenhil passed his evaluation with very high scores and is now serving in Sentani/Irian, Jaya, Indonesia. Several others trained with us at Mountain View, Missouri.

December 1998. I was to the point where I didn't know what God wanted me to do. SFS had five airplanes sitting there along with two simulators, pilot supplies etc. and CWW had one airplane sitting there. I asked God to show me what he wanted me to do. In one month, the two most indebted airplanes sold one for cash, (not a normal thing), the other for a cashier's check, both for my asking price and no squawks (also not a normal thing).

(Note: In 1997 CWW board was talking about starting to raise money to buy a piece of land on which to put an airstrip).

The first week of January 1999 Brother Greg Gale (CWW Treasurer) picked up the CWW mail and found a Title Deed for an airport that was made out to Christian Wings for the World. (I believe this, along with the quick sale of two airplanes that weren't even advertised at the time, was a pretty obvious clue that I was to shut down Smith's Flying Service and move to the CWW property near Ironton.

Greg and Elaine moved to the CWW property in November 1999. Sara and I moved there in December 1999, Andy Day and his family also arrived from Cody, Wyoming in December 1999. Andy was there for pilot and mechanic training. Christmas of 1999 was very quiet at Dove airstrip.

December 2000 we had a Christmas dinner and fellowship time with CWW staff, student's family and three neighbors that totaled 26 people.

We trained two Jungle Pilots that year at Dove Airstrip. Willy Kocu, an Indonesian national serving with AMA in Irian Jaya, the other Frank Toews, a Canadian, that will be serving with World Team Mission/Tariku Aviation in Irian Jaya. We currently have several students working on various levels of certification.

The point I would like to leave you with is that if God calls, it is time to go where He has called you. Calling Ephesians 4:11-13 and others.

Remember the GREAT COMMISION is not an option to be selected, it is a command to be obeyed. (Mark 16:15)

We don't always get a second chance. The first doctor said I would certainly die, the next ones changed that to I would probably live but probably never walk again, but only God knew what He was doing.

I got a second chance, and I am not going to try for a third. I am now walking and flying for the Lord.

The purpose of CWW is to supplement and amplify the effectiveness of the church by providing air transportation for missionaries in the field and to provide the specialty training necessary for pilots and mechanics to operate in third world country conditions

Christian Wings for the World is an international ministry. Some of our students came here from as far away as Indonesia. Students trained by CWW are serving our Lord in various place around the world.

If you feel led to support our Lords missionaries who are providing air support, or the specialized training that is provided by CWW, please at least pray for Christian Wings for the World. If you are able to help financially, CWW is a tax-exempt organization under 501-C3. Our staff also needs personal support.

Christian Wings' Cessna 170 B
Glossary

Abeam – at right angles to the fore-and-aft line.

Acrobatic maneuvers – intentional maneuvers involving abrupt changes in an aircraft's attitude, abnormal attitude, or abnormal acceleration not necessary for normal flight.

Ag plane – a plane used for agriculture such as crop sprayers and crop dusters.

Aileron roll – a maneuver in which the aircraft does a full 360° revolution about its longitudinal axis.

Airstrip – a cleared area for the landing and taking off of aircraft; runway.

Altitude Gyro – Sometimes called gyro horizon; is an instrument that displays both pitch and bank and is gyroscopically stabilized to help the pilot visualize what position the airplane is in relative to the actual horizon.

Annual – the once a year inspection that all aircraft are required to have in order to be legal to fly. Aircraft that are considered ultra-light might be exempt.

ARTCC – air route traffic control center, the agency that routes and monitors all air traffic in controlled air space.

Balanced it on the mains – my plane had tri-cycle landing gear, and when you had enough airspeed, you could lift the nose wheel off the ground which did two things: it eliminated the drag of the wheel being on the ground or in the mud and added lift to the wing which reduced the weight on the mains; thus by balancing the weight on the mains, the airplane was able to accelerate faster and lift off sooner.

Buffet – caused by turbulent airflow or conditions of compressibility. Turbulence on a fixed-wing aircraft prior to a stall.

C-150 – C is the abbreviation for Cessna; 150 is a model number. The C-150 is a 100 horsepower two-place airplane commonly used as a trainer.

Carb. Heat – carburetor heat; unlike non-aircraft engines, aircraft engines don't have automatic or continuous heat as do most automotive engines, so the pilot has to know when he needs heat and then apply it. Warm air is less dense than cold air and reduces the engines output, so the aircraft engine normally runs on cold air.

Chandells – consists of a maximum climb, 30° bank combination to obtain the greatest altitude gain for a given airspeed and at the same time making a 180° course reversal.

Chart – aviation map.

Cheek Method – this is where you wet your finger in your mouth then touch your cheek making a wet spot then turn your head until you find the direction that the wet spot feels the coolest.

Com – communication.

Complex airplane – an aircraft with retractable landing gear, flaps, and a controllable pitch propeller.

Control yoke – the unusually shaped "wheel," steering wheel to some, operated by your hands, that controls the pitch and bank of the airplane.

Density altitude – pressure altitude adjusted for temperature.

Detents on the fuel selector valves – a detent is a mechanism to keep a part in a certain position relative to another. The fuel selector valve determines which fuel tank, or both, are being used. By keeping the valve in the correct position, fuel can be used equally from both tanks and balance is maintained.

Dihedral – the positive acute angle between the lateral axis of an airplane and a line through the center of a wing or horizontal stabilizer. Dihedral contributes to the lateral stability of an airplane.

Eights on pylons – a maneuver where an aircraft flies in a figure eight pattern around two selected points on the ground with a focus on pivotal altitude.

FAA – Federal Aviation Administration.

Four-place – four-seats.

Glide ratio – glide ratio represents the distance an airplane will travel forward, without power, in relation to altitude loss.

Ground effect – air is slightly compressed under the wing as it generates lift; this compressed air increases the lift when you are near the ground. Ground effect has been measured up to approximately one wing span above the ground. The Tri-Pacer's wing span is 29 feet.

Ground-loving Tri-Pacer – the Tri-Pacer was considered the bottom of the line in a four-seat airplane; it had short wings, 29 feet. Thus, it is one of the short-winged Pipers and performs quite well with light loads, but performance suffers as the weight increases because it takes longer to get in the air and climb than a Cessna.

Gyro – gyroscope; after this instrument is stabilized in level flight, any deviation in flight path will try to deflect the gyroscopic wheel in its gimbal mount. This movement, which is the instrument case changing position relative to the gyro wheel, is translated to movement of a needle or card on the instrument's face.

High-time – nearing the end of its operational life.

IA – IA on a mechanics certificate means the pilot is able to perform the annual inspections that are required on all FAA certificated aircraft as well as other operations relative to major repairs and alterations of aircraft.

Instrument time – time flying the airplane solely by instrument reference, no outside reference at all.

Kollsman window – the small window in a sensitive altimeter that the pilot uses to set for pressure to give correct altitude above sea level.

Lazy eights – a maneuver in which the extended longitudinal axis of the airplane is made to trace a flight pattern in the form of a figure 8 lying on its side.

Leaned the mixture – aircraft have to have a way to adjust the fuel to air ratio/mixture as the aircraft changes altitudes. When climbing to higher altitudes, you have to lean the mixture (give the engine less fuel) and the reverse is true for a descent.

Manual flaps – flaps are moveable surfaces on the trailing edge of the wing, similar in shape to the ailerons. Deployment of flaps increases both the lift and drag of the wing. The primary use of flaps is in landing as they permit a steeper descent without increase in airspeed. Manual refers to setting them manually.

Nav/Com radio – navigation and communication radio.

Needle, ball and airspeed – Instruments.

NM – Nautical Mile, 6010 feet.

On base – a normal traffic pattern consists of four legs: the leg most into the wind is called "upwind," the next leg is called "crosswind," the next leg is referred to as "down wind," then the next turn is crosswind again, but the next to the last turn to the runway is called the "base leg" then "final"; each turn is typically 90 degrees.

Patterns – a standard path followed by aircraft when taking off or landing.

Preflight – an inspection that a pilot performs prior to a flight using a checklist.

Pressure altitude – altitude read on the altimeter when the kollsman window is adjusted to 29.92 inches of mercury.

Pre-takeoff check – the systematic procedure for making a last minute check of the engine, controls, systems, instruments, and radio prior to flight.

Prop – propeller.

Robertson Kit – Robertson STOL kit. (Short Take Off & Landing) modification to improve takeoff and landing performance for short and unimproved airstrips. It is a modification that includes a leading edge cuff for pre-1973 Cessna's (1973 and newer Cessna's already have a leading edge cuff), a stall fence on top of the wing (a fin that helps to keep the airflow going over the aileron's and not going span-wise to the flap area) and the ability for the ailerons to come down along with the application of the wing flaps, which in effect gives full wing-span flaps. All of the above enables the airplane to fly at slower air speeds than a standard airplane of the same type.

Sink rate – rate of decrease of altitude or rate of descent.

Smudge pots – an oil-fired lamp with a wick and a fuel tank that holds the fuel oil or kerosene. This type of lamp has a shield around the wick to make it almost impossible for the wind to blow them out. They were required on all commercial vehicles years ago as emergency lights. They would burn for several hours and make a lot of black oily soot that would smudge anything that touched them. It wasn't a popular thing to get the job of servicing or placing them.

Soloed – after being trained in a certain type/model of airplane, your instructor signs your student license and logbook stating that he has trained you in a make and model airplane and believes you able to fly it by yourself, then observes while the student makes three takeoffs and landings.

Static run-up – holding the brakes and bringing the engine up to maximum power, then leaning the mixture to see if you can gain any rpm on the tachometer.

Stowable – Rudder pedals that can be collapsed and stowed in the floorboards to get them out of the way when you don't have a co-pilot

Trimmed up – airplanes have different aerodynamic loads on the controls under different conditions, loads, center of gravity, and speeds. The elevator on the Tri-Pacer is the only control that has a trim on it. If you don't trim the airplane control pressures, you will have to manually hold pressure on it to maintain the attitude you want which gets tiring in a short while.

Tri-Pacer – model name for a small fabric-covered, tricycle landing gear, Piper airplane PA22-135, Piper Airplane model 22 with 135 horsepower engine.

Ultra light – limited to not more than 5 gallons of fuel, top speed of 55 knots, stall speed of 24 knots or less, 254 lbs. or less empty weight.

Walk around – a preflight check of the plane.

White arc – airspeed indicator markings use a set of standardized colored bands and lines on the face of the instrument. The white range is the normal range of operating speeds for the aircraft with the flaps extended as for landing or takeoff.

Wing loading – maximum takeoff gross weight of an aircraft divided by its wing area.

World War II GUMP check – the GUMP check is a last check to ensure that the fuel is selected to the fullest tank (or, in the case of many Cessnas, to both tanks), the landing gear is down and locked (three in the green), the mixture is set to full rich, and the propeller is at high RPMs.
His Wind Beneath My Wings - Lionel Smith

Copyright © 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

Scriptures taken from the King James Version

First edition published 2012

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ISBN: 978-1-62245-040-4
Acknowledgements

My thanks and appreciation go to the following, who are just a few of the people instrumental in helping me arrive at where I am today:

John Surgeon, fighter-pilot instructor for the Army Air Corps during WWII, always calm, well organized and a great teacher. I learned many things that an airplane can do that a commercial pilot doesn't normally learn or do. Thanks John.

Reese Ed Oldfather (Pappy), bomber pilot during WWII.

Jim Ferguson, the chief pilot for New Tribes Mission Tribal Air and Communications (TAC) at the time I went for my missionary pilot training. Jim signed my missionary pilot graduation certificate.

Paul Dye, the senior pilot for New Tribes Mission TAC at the time of my missionary pilot training. Paul did most of my pilot training. He and three others were kidnapped in Columbia, South America in October 1985. Praise the Lord, Paul escaped. As Paul was getting out of the airplane after our last flight he blessed me by saying that 'I could fly his family'.

Paul's wife, Pat, was our hostess while Sara and I were in Douglas, Arizona, for my training. Pat put a note on her table that "it was no myth we have enjoyed the Smith's."

Boyce Mouton served as Pastor, missionary, pilot, flight instructor, mentor and source of encouragement.

Charlie King filled some of the same shoes as Boyce Mouton.

Jerry Guthrie owned Guthrie's Garage in Pleasant Hill, Illinois, and gave me a job servicing vehicles and other equipment when I couldn't work construction. Jerry financed much flight time to help me get the hours I needed to get my commercial certificate, other certificates and ratings. Thanks Jerry.

I dedicate this work to my wife, Sara McCallister Smith, who put up with me for over fifty years, raised my three children, and served as bread winner, nurse, and doctor while performing other vital tasks and providing love and encouragement to many deserving souls and at least one undeserving soul.

Many of these years I worked so many hours either in a machine shop, on construction, or in aviation that I didn't spend enough time with my family. Sara was a good mother for my children even though I was gone most of the time they were awake. There is no way I can ever make this up to Sara, my children or myself. After my children were all grown, I still spent much time working on things for myself and others and not spending precious time with Sara. I was seldom there when Sara needed me. Writing this book has brought many fond memories, but also a lot of sadness. It has shown me, however, that there is a living God, who never forsakes His people.

As you read this book, remember that words in italics are further defined in this book's glossary.
