In
1967, I was doing a little bit
of aerobatic flying.
(showing off my skills) (perhaps the lack thereof)
An acquaintance of mine was a Korean war
veteran.
He and his wife wanted to see me fly and do some loops.
I was only
too happy to get an audience. Yeah, yeah, I know, show off.
I had access to a semi-aerobatic aircraft. It was a
Luscombe 8A equipped with a 65 HP corn popper under the hood. This
particular "bird" was very tricky to handle.
We had an old man out
there we called "Old timer". Old timer was a retired college professor. He made the statement that in 1919,
he learned how to fly. He said if you could fly this particular Luscombe,
you could fly the midget racing aircraft. We used to call these things,
"very hairy". This bird required "good table manners."
On the day of the "show", I went through the
motions. I checked the gas, oil, and made sure everything was hanging
together like it was supposed to.
Old timer came up as I held the brakes, "cracked the
throttle" a little, and flipped both mags (magnetos) on.
I shouted, "brakes & contact". With that
said, he pulled the prop through. This old bird coughed into life.
When my path was clear, I taxied to the end of the strip.
I checked for incoming traffic.
Facing into the wind, I shoved the throttle to the wall. I
released the brakes.
In a few moments, I was rising free as a bird from mother
earth.
When I got where I wanted, I checked out the area of
sky around me.
I put the nose down at a gentle angle. I was keeping an
eye on the airspeed and an eye on the outside world. When the two appeared
compatible, I applied the proper back pressure on the stick. This gave the
desired results. I was confident. I watched as the ground vanished beneath
my nose. The sky kept rolling down from the top of the windshield. Suddenly,
the ground came rolling down from the top of the windshield. It was picture
perfect. I did another and messed up. It dropped out slightly as I was going
through the top of the loop.
It unnerved me! I was no longer the smooth and confidant
flyer I thought I was.
I flew it back. On the deck, the old timer (circa 1919
beginnings), said we couldn’t see you over there. You need to go back and
do it over here, pointing to another piece of sky in better view of
everybody.
I tried to pass the buck since I was a bit rattled from my
mistake. I told him I couldn’t since I didn’t have anyone to prop the
engine.
He responded quickly, "I’ll prop it". I
thought, shut up old man.
To save face, I climbed in, buckled up and he obliged.
Soon, the world I knew, was 2000 feet below me.
It was "show time".
I did a picture perfect loop. I looked over to my left. I
could see the crowd watching. My ego rose to the occasion. I remember
thinking, "Now the Old dad will show you how it’s done".
Famous
last words!
I am still not sure what I did wrong, (although I think in
the heat of the moment, I took it up too slow). It went straight up, and it
was stuck there. You could count the strokes of the prop going past the
windshield. The engine was laboring hard. The aircraft was stationary.
I was in trouble.
Simultaneously, I was shoving my feet firm into the floor
as I grabbed both door handles. I was trying to brace against what I thought
I knew was coming.
The Luscombe went down, tail first.
When the mass in the
front demanded recognition, the tail exchanged places with the nose, pronto!
Unknown to me, several factors were at play. I had just
kinked the fuselage in this hairy (scary), unplanned maneuver for one.
My real troubles were just beginning to show. It was as if
the plane had sighed. It slowed down. It slowed down in a scary, never
before seen situation by me anywhere, or for that matter, heard anyplace as
well.
As I was descending, straight down, there was a distinct
impression made on me. That was, if my arm were able to hang out the side of
the plane, there wouldn’t be any air going past.
This defied rationale.
I shoved the rudder pedals back and forth. There was no
feel of any pressure. There wasn’t even so much as a twitch in this bird.
I rocked the stick from side to side. No response. I shoved the stick all
the way forward. The lack of response was as if it were parked in a closed
hangar. I kept it up.
To try and give you an idea about this. When you were a
kid going down a highway in the family car. Sometimes, as kids would do, you
let your hand weave around on the outside in the air. The resistance from
the wind blowing by would shove your hand up and down as to the angle of
your hand into the wind. As the car slowed down, your hand would mush around
on the air slowly.
Now to press forward with this first person account.
I watched as the corn field was spreading out in my
windshield. It was marking time. It was marking the end of my life in a few
moments.
I thought, " I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’ve
sure done, done it".
I repeated everything above. It was futile.
Looking out the windshield with primary vision, I was
watching my demise rising up to meet me. Out the corner of my eye, I was
observing the fact that I had lost more than half of my altitude. I had
slowly drifted below 1000 feet. Yet I was still going down.
There was again the distinct impression in my mind, that
if I could have placed my arm outside the aircraft, I would have felt no air
going past.
On the ground, our circa, 1919 trained pilot, "Old
timer", was making a serious plea. He took his hat off his head. He
turned it over and spoke in his familiar lisp. "Come on boys. Put some
money in the hat. We need to buy some flowers for that boy’s funeral. I
learned to fly in 1919. I’ve seen some guys get into that over the years.
They all died. I’m serious, put some money in the hat for flowers for that
boy’s funeral. He’s going to be dead in a few moments."
Truly, . . . . . I’m grateful . . . . . . that I couldn’t
hear his comments.
Besides, I was caught up in the moment.
I recall saying in my thoughts, "Lord, It looks like
I’m coming home"
Suddenly, there was a strange peace that came over me.
It was amazing!
I started banging the stick in short jerky strokes at the
far end of the travel (nose down position). I don’t know why I was doing
it. There was no hope of recovery that I could see.
Maybe there was outside help that I couldn't see. I kept up this bumping
the stick on the far end of the travel.
Then, all at once, there was a light buffeting, or
vibration that came over the plane.
Bingo!
I was in a freaky stall of the
likes that I had never seen, much less heard about.
I continued holding the stick forward as it started
sliding down through the air faster. I had to have speed to recover. I held
off and then slowly eased the stick back to neutral. I wasn’t ready to
recover yet, even though the ground was looming much closer. The concern of
a secondary stall loomed high in my consciousness.
When I was confident that
it would recover, I slid the stick back. My cheeks were shoved down on my
neck. I flattened out. Swiftly, I picked it up and banked to the left. I
shot over the fence. I felt my knees knocking hard as the barbed wire fence
raced beneath my wings.
It was some years later that I read a report in Flying
magazine.
Four guys climbed into a beat up old Cessna 170 tail
dragger.
The right door was gone. The two guys in the back were
going to go skydiving.
Once the pre - determined altitude was achieved, the
fellow flying it, slowed it way down. This made it easier for the guys in
the back to climb out. They swung out, hanging on to the wing strut. The
first guy climbed out, let go, and was swiftly gone behind them. His buddy
repeated the same deal.
This stuff by the way, is not for me!
It’s too
scary!
After the second guy had cleared the aircraft, suddenly,
as though the plane had sighed, (sound familiar) it nosed over. It plunged
in an eerie straight down attitude. The passenger did have a Private pilot’s
license.
The passenger noticed that the pilot was rocking the
rudder pedals back and forth (as I did). There wasn’t even a twitch. He
rolled the wheel back and forth as he shoved it in and out. There was no
response. This passenger noticed an eerie quietness about the air outside
the cabin.
He stuck his arm out in to the slip stream.
Remember, the
door was gone. I didn’t have that luxury.
Much less, I
didn't have the time to be messing around.
He
stated, there was no air going by as they descended
vertically.
The passenger said he would have left the aircraft if he
had been wearing a parachute. The pilot was in violation of the law.
The passenger was supposed to be
wearing a chute when jumpers went out
(I guess they don’t care about the guy
flying it).
If the chute of one of the jumpers had snagged the tail, it
would have blanked out the stabilizer. This would have rendered recovery of
the aircraft impossible.
The face of the pilot was white without color. (Mine was
probably like that as well). He started banging in short strokes at the end
of the travel of the yoke (nose down position).
Soon and suddenly, there came a light buffeting through
the airplane. It started sliding down faster until enough speed could be
acquired to recover. This passenger stated that it could, in his belief,
occur in the most docile of aircraft. I agree with his assessment that most
pilots flying then and now, do not know how to get out of this freak
condition.
It is like a trip in the twilight zone.
A trip where the devil waits to greet the lost.
In an instant, they pass into a
burning hell far below. Those who have not
received Jesus Christ as their savior, are doomed to endure this forever.
What a terrible thing. No man can comprehend the awful burning state of hell.
FOREVER!
For those, like myself, who have received Jesus as their savior, He can
deliver from things like this. If He chooses not, then greater yet is the
peace and knowledge in the presence of the Lord forever.
By the same token,
no man can comprehend the majesty, and joy, of being in a perfect place. The
finest place on earth wouldn't begin to scratch the surface of what heaven
truly is like.
Dear visitor, I am praying for you.
I don’t want this awful thing to happen to you.
We are blood relatives in the family of man. I would love very much to see you in heaven.
That’s another thing. No man can imagine how great it truly is there.
I am praying that while you are able . .
you will realize, that your life,
like mine, is soon going to pass away,
just like the generations before us.
Think of all the funerals we have attended for so many
relatives, friends and acquaintances
Our turn is coming, if Jesus doesn’t come back
first.
Be ready when Jesus comes.
It truly can be any time.
Please don’t be left behind.
When Jesus was asked by His disciples
"How can we know the time of your
return"?
He answered them and said
When Israel becomes a nation again, that generation living there at that
time, will not pass away before I come back.
Friend, that was May, 1948.
I was almost 6 years old.
Now I am 62 years old.
What am I saying? The clock is running out!
What will your answer be!
The choice is yours.
Bear in mind that I am praying for you.
Jesus said that the way to get there is so simple, that even a little child can find the way to heaven.
On the other hand, as we get older, we get hardened. We become cynical. Our experiences
in life on
earth have made us not very willing to be trusting.
We want to earn our way into heaven by some method of paying back our
misdeeds. Somehow, we want to clear our conscience of our misdeeds and built
in shortcomings.
It is
sad to to think of what people consider as a means to do it their way.
A
grown man or woman for example, give very little thought to their real
future. There is a common mistaken belief that I'm OK.
And yet, some people think they can buy their way in.
Jesus said about these foolish and vain efforts that they won’t work.
Anyone who
thinks they can sneak or climb into heaven by some means other than what God wants
us to do, is the same as a robber or thief.
It is
not going to happen!
Let God do the talking
here
through His word below:
Here is His way !
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