Still dealing with dozens of minor details regarding the repairs and cosmetic work on the planes. It wasn't until later in the afternoon that we could get them into the air for a shake-down flight and leak test.
Carl Dye is the Waco factory chief pilot. He has flown every Waco the factory has built since they started making these planes in 1985. He trains experienced pilots in the nuances of taildraggers, and the Waco in particular. He trained me, and there were many occasions when I was trying desperately to land the plane, but got it so out of shape on the runway that I was clueless as to what needed to be done, and just at the perfect moment, Carl's voice would come over the intercom with the 4 most beautiful words you can ever hear in such a predicament: "I have the airplane!" This is the signal that I have completely botched the landing, and that he will now proceed to save my life, and my plane. All I have to do is to release my death-grip on the stick.
Carl and I flew my first Waco across the country from Lansing to San Diego in August 1993. He made many saves during that trip in addition to the five days of training he gave me before we left. When we got to San Diego he gave checkout rides to two other instructors who would continue my training after Carl went back to Lansing. He also showed me how to land on what used to be the world's skinniest runway, at the new Mikie's Fun House in the desert outside San Diego.
Needless to say, I put Carl right up there with Lindbergh. So getting a chance to fly with him again was a major treat, and an opportunity to get critiqued on any bad habits I may have picked up in the last year or so. Although the weather was too poor to fly to Mackinac Island, it was good enough to do some touch and go's at Lansing, especially with Carl as my backup. The first landing was....let's just say it lacked grace. The subsequent takeoff was also rather questionable so Carl came over the intercom with the suggestion that I may want to relax a bit and not be so nervous just because he's there. It worked. The next few landings were, even by my high standards, excellent, and he even grunted his approval. (Carl doesn't like to talk much.) After several greasers by me, he asked if he could do one, because he was getting bored, and he proceeded to slide the plane onto the runway with such delicacy that it was virtually impossible to tell we touched down. In addition, he did it with only one wheel, and continued to stretch the landing for the longest time with only the left wheel touching down, the right wing high, and then eventually let the right wheel touch as though he painted in onto the runway. A true artist!
I grunted my approval to him, and went round for another perfect landing on my part, just to show him my previous work wasn't a fluke, and then parked the plane for the afternoon. I had enough. Especially since this was day thirteen and I was happy to get through a superstitious kind of day without re-arranging the wings.
Next it was Art's turn to take a few laps around the pattern, and it was a real treat to stay on the ground and watch, and especially to listen. Art's plane is the same as mine, and uses the same engine, and the wonderful sounds that come from that engine are truly magical. A radial engine has a completely different sound from other types of aircraft engines. It is a much throatier, more powerful, deeper, rumbling kind of sound. It commands attention. And for me it was a special treat to be on the ground because I almost never get a chance to see and hear what others experience when I take off.
It had been a good day, even a great one, and I was in a mood to celebrate with some indiscretions which came in the form of many Irish coffees. Art and Les started out with me, but faded after only one or two beers, but they were very good Irish coffees so I continued further celebrations until meeting up with Carl and his girlfriend Carla (yes, Carl and Carla, amazing coincidence right?) when it was too late to stop because there I was with the world's greatest Waco pilot, and it seemed important to have more Irish coffees and swap biplane stories until they closed the place in the wee hours of the morning.
Needless to say, I did not get my daily email out, and you may have noticed your mailbox empty on Saturday night. My apologies, but I was having 'too much fun'. Hope you did too.