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"Clayton Fishers Greatest Adventures Part 8
(Showing Off)
by Clayton Fisher
The sky is a magical place. It surrounds our world giving it
life. It can at times, be so dark we are afraid: yet at other
times, so bright we rejoice. Its sunrise our hope, its sunset
our rest. We who can navigate its never-ending currents feel the
magic every time we fly. ~ Earl Downs - Oklahoma Aviator
Publication
And so it came to pass, they were to have an open house at
Westheimer Field, Norman, Oklahoma, Sept 20th. There would be
static displays with cool airplanes to eyeball. The tower would
be open, and I looked forward to meeting the heads behind the
voices. These guys have been known to make fun of my orange
suspenders, being color coordinated with my airplane; chide me
for being slow on approach, and final accusing me of running a
Briggs and Straten engine on my plane. (I have trimmed my bird
for 60-65 mph so I burn only 2 ½ to 3 gal/hr.) I wanted to
apologize for my oft failure to communicate and my vexing
requests to “repeat” when traffic is heavy and their talking
fast.
The sun rose to show a blue bird kind of day – light wind and
blue sky. That, with they’re being nothing quite like the smell
of burning 2 cycle mix in the morning, really got my flying
blood stirred up. I knew the magic was out there waiting and I
was itching for the sky.
I pushed the throttle down and engine noise came up. I did
another quick check of gauges – especially the fuel pressure. (I
wouldn’t fly without one) Chinook’s big wheels began slinging up
dew and spattering the wings behind me and the tail was cutting
a chogie thru the wet grass as I accelerated. Flying speed came
in a hurry. I held the stick a little back of neutral, danced
some on the rudder pedals to keep her straight and as the tail
came off the ground the wings caught the morning air and I was
off and climbing into the bright sunlit ambiance. I knew I’d
soon be getting bug stains on my shoulders. (A Chinooks flyer’s
joke)
But I would climb this morning, not the low and slow that I most
enjoy. I would leave the mystery of what might lie beneath the
green canopy, the surprise of what might flare out of the grass
into the prairie breeze. I would not see the ripples of fish in
the shallows of the river, not the surprised deer as heads pop
up from feeding in the edges. I would not have to be cautious of
hitting egrets and heron as they rise in front of me nor be wary
of the onerous high wires that crisscross the land, unseen till
too late. And the coyote this morning would be safe from being
buzzed when caught running in the open field.
I climbed to reach 2500 msl and flew over the hodgepodge of
Oklahoma pastures, woods and farm fields; over a green
hinterland dotted with creeks and ponds full of wiggly aquatics
– the muddy kingdoms of adventure of my boyhood.
Then I began to leave rural Oklahoma behind and soon was over
the concrete prairie suburbia, over the river of rolling jelly
beans that I-35; over the metalloid ponds of human endeavour that
are the car lots, shopping malls, and casinos; over the new
additions – fractalized houses, that almost over night pop up
like clumps of mushrooms after a warm rain. Over the rampant
influenza of modernity – over the sad sad way we treat our
substrate.
Don’t try to explain it
Just bow your head
Breath in, breath out
Move on
From a song by Jimmy Buffet
Then I was announcing a 2mile final for runway 3, as per
instructions from the tower. As soon as I had the runway made, I
reduced the power to near idle, adjusted in a notch of Flaperon,
put the nose down and glided in and landed. I taxied to the
parking area and was greeted by a young attendant with a big
smile. I get lots of smiles. I’m proud of that. Sometimes the
smiles progress into raucous laughter. I’m not sure whether they
are laughing with me or at me, but either way is ok.
Maybe it’s because buddy coon is in the backseat with his usual
carefree persona. Maybe it’s the oogah horn perched jauntily on
the nose. Could it be the glistening Endure brand John Deere
green paint that shines like a precious green stone and glints
and sparkles off the ribs when the sun is just right? Maybe me
and my Chinook have “bling” do you think?
Maybe it’s the contrast between the way people are exposed to
aviation – the big expensive plane, the time and money required
to obtain the “right stuff” – and me an old out of shape
peckerwood with limited resources in a small, fun tough machine
that he built himself. It blows their mind and makes um smile.
Well anyway, as I was disembarking, (you ought to watch me get
in and out of that sucker, With a screen door handle positioned
just above and to the left of me to hold to and raise my heft
assets from the seat, I can enter and exit slick as a gut) a
guy, obviously an airport official walked up. After
introductions he asked me if I wanted to be part of the static
display, I explained that I had only come toe eat breakfast at
Ozzie’s and check out the open house, but “sure” sounded like
fun. I would have to leave early for some business in the hay
patch, but that a couple of house hamming it up and touting the
adventures of building and flying a Chinook might be a hoot.
So there I was, manoeuvring my plane behind a brand new T6 and
beside N34, the old DC3 that makes a lot of annual Fly-ins and
airshows.
It was early and so for while I wasn’t very busy, but soon folks
began to arrive and I became very bus “touting”. And the
questions were coming fast and furious. “Yes”, I built it. “No,
it’s not an ultralight” “Yes”, one has to have a pilot license.
“Is it fun?” “Darn shore is.” “Was it hard to build?” “Well sort
of, but if one is handy with basic tools, can follow simple
diagrams and instructions, with perseverance, a Chinook can be
built in a reasonable amount of time without knowing too much
about airplanes or breaking the bank.
The thing was, people were intrigued that my Chinook was within
reach of the average looker. I could see the wheels turning; I
could see the glimmer of flying dreams coming to life in young
and old.
The kids and their parents came by the dozens to honk my oogah
horn. I explained that much of my flying was low and slow, that
I was always in earshot of neighbours. That a well timed “oogah”
was a classy way to say howdy.
I told folks that I had 572 hours on her (closer to 600 by the
time the story is on the web) with no overhaul and very little
trouble. That I thought it was because I use the low RPM’s. I
seldom use full power, even on take off, unless I have to get
out of a short patch. Even then, I begin to reduce power at 100
ft or so. I use good mercury premium plus 2 cycle oil with a
couple of ounces of Marvel Mystery oil in 5 gal of 87 octane
non-ethanol fuel. I check compression every 50 hrs and both
cylinders are always 100 PSI or better.
The one of the airport people came over, got my name and address
and said they would officially invite me to be part of the
display next year. How bout that! I told her I knew some other
pilots with some really cool homebuilts that I could bring with
me. She seemed pleased about that.
Well, I had to leave way too soon. I got the plane turned
around, cleared of onlookers, called the tower and got cleared
to taxi off midfield 21. I left um standing there in awe and
wonder as I briskly climbed out on my way to some adventure in
the hay patch.
I love my airplane and I had lots of fun showing it off. I get a
little down when I see all the wires and towers and city spires
that it takes to keep us crazy people in our comfort zone. But,
when it gets real bad, I can find a big blue hole and fly my
Chinook to a place they can’t pave over.
Now you ask me just to leave you
To go out on my own and get what I need to
You want me to find what I already have
Somebody said they saw me
Swinging the world by the tail
Bouncing over a white cloud
Killing the blues
From a song by Rowland Salley
Sung by Robert Plant and Allison Krauss in the CD Rising Sand
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