What's Up? - June 2011
The Tunes Of June – Cough! -Don’t Forget To Check The Top
By Larry Shapiro
Okay, everyone stand back! I don’t want you to get dirty when the mud flies or the “you–know-what” hits the fan as I lay this one on you. Y’all know how much I like stirring up things so here goes.
Like many of us, John/Joan Pilot walks into the M.E.’s office because it’s that time again. He’s/she’s there to have their “stuff” checked, things like, aiming for a little cup, getting the old heart beat and pulse racing, pretending to hear sounds that one seldom hears, mostly because the equipment is usually pretty old anyway and I doubt that will ever change.
These lucrative almost franchises, born into medical practices, seldom invest in new and modern doctor stuff; after all, why should they? They usually have other practices, only do FAA work part-time, yet hold your aviation future in their hands.
I might mention that most of these docs are the real deal and are very caring human beings who want you to keep your ticket. There are however, those few who only see you as dollar signs and 20 minutes after you leave their office they wouldn’t recognize you in a local snack bar. The nurse on the other hand is always caring, patient, and would recognize you at the snack bar and maybe even at the mall.
“Hey you! Yeah you, the guy in the back asking, “where in the heck are you going with this?” Obviously you don’t read my column very often, if ever, and therefore don’t know that I never learned that the shortest distance between two points isn’t as straight a line as one might think.
Okay, back to the Doc’s office. So we go through the usual mundane boring pokes and prods, answer some questions with yes’s and no’s, say thank you and get out your checkbook.
So you pass the little-cup-exercise, convince them you can see the little lines and dots, tell them your check won’t bounce, and fold your fresh medical into your wallet or purse.
Now the big question: What does the M.E. really know about you? Does he or she really know the “whole” you?
And now for the pay off! What you see isn’t always what you get. More and more often I meet and greet earthlings that on the surface I want to adopt, only to find, after a short while aren’t, in my opinion of course, playing or flying with a full deck or clipboard.
Someone once told me that you don’t really get to know someone until you go on a vacation with him or her, live with him or her, or live in the house next to theirs. As much as I hate to say it, they might be right.
The sweetest, nicest people float through my office or call me on the phone. Then something goes wrong. Maybe it’s the water or some bad fast food and you see a completely different side…not so sweet. Whatever it is, it’s not part of your FAA medical or your state of mind.
Okay my fellow Americans, I’m ready for you to let me have it! I am more than happy to share my findings and deep research. By the way, don’t fool yourselves into thinking that listing your other doctors and assorted medical spam is going to reveal the dark side of who you really might be.
Addiction
And now a few words about airplane addiction: Does it exist? Yep, and there you have it, my few words.
The Difference
The difference between want and need is sometimes a hard decision to make. First of all, it’s a struggle between your mind and your heart. Or, if you prefer, it’s a fight between your emotions and your intellectual level or if you prefer, a fight between your heart and wallet.
In my case it’s easy, I have the intellect of a donut and the emotions of a gaggle of high school-age girls. My decisions are based on the time of day, which way the winds are blowing, whether or not the Giants won, and how many parking tickets my youngest son got today.
In my case, need is being able to breathe, catch fish, sneak in some ice cream, and exercise. Want is to fulfill all my fantasies, continuing to be the love of my wife’s life, a hero to my children and grandchildren, dress myself, and to do that needed exercise without the help of a caregiver that’s twice my size and really scares me.
A Stinson Full Of Monkeys
I can’t tell you why – I mean I could tell you why if I knew why – but my kids grew up using the phrase, “More fun than a Stinson full of monkeys” when describing a fun event or something similar. After a dozen years or more they still use it. To the best of my memory they picked it up from the 12-year-old wife of a flight surgeon stationed at Beale Air Force Base. Okay, so she really wasn’t 12, she just looked like she was. Come to think of it, I think she has a daughter almost that age now, but as always, there I go digressing again.
So when I got a call from a semi-nice lady last week saying she wanted to sell her father’s Stinson, I jumped at the chance to do it. I’ll admit it was for mostly selfish reasons as I just wanted to see, feel, and touch one. Her father’s was a Voyager 150 and I really liked that model.
I asked her where it was and she answered, “at my dad’s house.” Right! This I had to see. When she gave me the address, I was a little familiar with the area so I had to go and check this out.
Wow! Her dad had to be some out-of-this-world guy. I would have given a day’s pay to have met him but as I said, he was a really out-of-this-world guy and he had already been laid to rest.
Everything had a place and a name on the box identifying what was in it. I started looking around for the airplane and of course I couldn’t find it. So, I said, “Okay, I give up, where are you hiding it?”
The semi-nice lady walked me out to the backyard and there sat four custom-built sheds. My curiosity was now tweaked and I was ready. When he obtained the Stinson, he trailered it to his yard, backed it, wingless, through a gate he had built onto a floor he had built, and preceded to build the rest of the shed around it.
This is just the beginning. The wings were in the garage, the engine was mothballed there as well, and every little tiny part was labeled and packed away.
Sadly he died before this restoration project was completed and now the big question: “So Larry, what should we do with it and how much is it worth?”
For those who want to know my answer it comes down to this; it had what seemed like some major damage history that her dad had fixed very well. The engine seemed okay, but then what do I know about engines? Now you have to add in how many hours a day you can work on it, the cost of a place to do it, now add the fabric work and find a good place to have that done, put a value on your time or someone else’s cost per hour, multiply that times two- to three-thousand man or woman hours … well, by now I’m sure you’re getting the idea.
The value is in the beholders eye and mind, and the plan for what you are going to do with the finished Stinson is the final element.
If it was in annual and had the FAA stamp of approval, I would have been glad to fly it off her driveway and leave some serious money on the kitchen table.
Graduation was Survived
Wow, pass the tissues. How do parents survive these ordeals? I remember just five years ago flying my daughter down to SoCal to visit a school to be named at a later date. This was another reason I was glad I was a pilot and didn’t have to make reservations in advance and fly with the commoners.
I had my own personal reasons for liking this school. First, “Ross the Intern” from the Jay Leno Show was a graduate from there. Second reason is same as the first one. From a practical vantage point, it was just minutes from Brackett Field, a few blocks from a really nice hotel that also allowed my dogs, and my daughter would have a car there. Perfect!
We saw, we saw more, we bought license placeholders, not one, but two of them at $12 each, and they all had the name of the school on them. All of this would had been great if she in fact, actually ended up going to that school, but she didn’t.
Of course, we also left a serious deposit now that this major decision had been made. Did I mention the road trip she and my wife took from the other coast to this one visiting a dozen other institutions of higher learning? It would have been cheaper to buy her a new car and have her get a degree online.
Okay, let’s now jump ahead a few days and the following announcement is made to me, “Dad, (that’s me), you said I should be excited about everything we just did.” I responded in a very parental voice, “Yes my precious angel that is correct.”
And now her very painful response, “I’m not excited! I don’t think it’s the right school for me and I’m sorry we didn’t visit the other school that you liked while we were in SoCal.”
My first thoughts were those damn license plate holders, then the deposit check, and boom, the realization that we were back to square one. Actually they gave us back our deposit, but we had to keep the license plate holders.
Plan “B”
So, my future graduate persuades me that we should visit the school that was my first choice two years earlier. Now there were only two small problems; first her mother was away on a trip with my mother, you know, the 90-year-old one I still have and that meant just the two of them were going on this adventure. Second, from the Bay Area I consider SoCal as a local trip and I can see almost that far so off we went VFR to Fullerton. (30 minutes from Aleso Viejo, our final destination and Home of SOKA University).
Just past the 200-mile marker, I noticed one of three very interesting things that are taking place as I sit in my Dakota. First, I can’t remember ever having a 235-knot ground speed that was lasting a considerably long time. Next I notice that there is very little chatter on the air. Humm, I wonder if SoCal is closed today for some holiday we don’t have up north?
Finally, some major turbulence was making itself known and I now had two hands on the yoke instead of my usual knee. The kicker was when Fullerton Tower cleared us number one for landing and we were more than 20 miles out. Now that really surprised me. The ground personnel were so excited to see us and couldn’t wait to ask if we used a tail hook to land. I’m not going to dwell on this, it will just sound like I’m bragging. They did say I was their first customer of the day and it was in the afternoon. In checking I was informed that the winds were 65 knots in all the wrong directions.
Oh! One more thing and I guess it’s most important. We visited the school, she loved it, I loved it, she was now excited, and by the time you have read this she will be a graduate with her first job, first apartment, and first car. Not bad for a kid that just wanted to read books and get A’s. Okay, where are the tissues?
On Final!
I’ve just started noticing that many of my personal aviator friends are changing the topics of their hangar flying conversations. I remember when we talked about new avionics, side sticks, who ran off the runway, and other really hot stuff. Now we’re talking about what meds we are taking, what is starting to hurt, and have you have had your C and P exams? (I have to use initials because my editor won’t let me say colonoscopy or Prostate.) Here’s the latest poop from the poop deck: I think we are getting older. We might be wiser but some of our parts are now really out of warranty and getting replacements is really hard. The best part is that we are laughing at each other.
It’s getting harder for us to climb in and out of our airplanes, especially if they are low wings without steps and, well, you get the idea. Now the little stepladders we used to check fuel are being used to get up and down off the airplane.
I’m ready to say that today’s 70 is not the new 40; it’s just plain 70. As to you octogenarians, stay away from my office, I’m developing a dislike for you guys over 80 and still yelling “Clear!” I’m now yelling, “Help!”
The last meeting of “Old Farts” was a discussion of blood clots, liver problems, and can you give me a kidney? The only thing missing was a nurse and a bedpan.
In Conclusion
Finally, the world is a cleaner and better place to live because we finally caught and trashed OBL. I don’t want to waste space talking about him, I’ll just settle for breathing a little easier now that the trash has been hauled out to sea and they threw the garbage overboard.
I wish all the June brides many years of love and happiness, great success to all the grads, and my heartfelt thanks to all the dad’s this month and as always to all of our troops. I also send a special salute to 2nd Lt. Justin Eshleman, recently sworn into the USAF by his father Lt. Col. Brock Eshelman, (Ret.). I know Justin will do his country proud and what a great Father’s Day gift for his dad.
That’s Thirty!
“Over”
