Route 66 Air Rally

[taoftedal]

9 minutes ago, PhrogPhlyer said:

Sam and Ella Lux live in a vacuum. Ever since Ella met Sam, all she thinks about is Suc-a-Lux. Sam wears a perpetual smile.

 

Oh my ... Say Goodnight Gracie.

[PhrogPhlyer]

1 minute ago, taoftedal said:

Say Goodnight Gracie.

Goodnight Gracie.

And on another totally different subject... 

[jgf]

6 hours ago, ViperPilot2 said:

looking forward to meeting everyone along the Route!

Check six, you'll see me.

[jgf]

6 hours ago, ViperPilot2 said:

fighting the internal Spring tension in my Logitech Extreme 3D joystick to where my wrist and hand cramp up and it gets very uncomfortable after about 30 minutes. Like real uncomfortable.. So, I pulled out an old Saitek Cyborg

 

Same issue I have with helicopters, with the same joystick;  but that Logitech is the best $25 I ever spent on a computer (runs circles around that $140 Thrustmaster of 25 years ago).  With helicopters i keep thinking of those old joysticks with centering adjustments, a PITA back then but that would be a good workaround now.  I've found resting my palm on top of the Logitech and working it that way is much less stressful (and no problem hitting the buttons up there, they're just flaps and trim).

 

Have an old Saitek Cyborg also, but it's a gameport connector so useless now (unless I rebuild that old XP system);  but it was the most mechanically adjustable stick I've ever had.

[jgf]

4 hours ago, taoftedal said:

keep the Piper's out in front of those two Beechcraft

 

Lol, this old A35 is wheezing to get to 8k ft, though she will do her rated 140kt cruise there.  Have taken her to 10k, where she will cruise level at a measly 125kt full throttle (with only 18mp).  (Published specs are a bit optimistic claiming a ceiling of 17k ft ...for an aircraft that is neither pressurized nor turbocharged.)

[ScottishMike]

“We can go!”

Suzanne had just worked out the flight plan:

“Our usual 6nm. And 6 minutes to climb to 4500', that leaves 159nm. That the E6B works out at 2hrs 10 minutes. (average headwind 27 kts at 237 degrees. True airspeed 100 kts. Ground speed of only 73 kts. Plus 3minutes descent and landing.”

So I summarised:

6minutes climb + 2 hours 10 minutes cruise + 3 minutes descent and land = 2 hours 19 minutes.

Departure 10:00 ETA 12:19

“VFR all the way so you can take the left if you want.” Suzanne added graciously and I hoped not condescendingly.

“OK” I replied “Lets go.”

[TomPenDragon]

11 hours ago, taoftedal said:

I'm lost.  What is going on?  Fly through the night?  Where in the world are you guys?

Sorry about the confusion.  This part of the story takes place in Mexico, on 21 November.  I'm more used to writing novel-length and am still finding my footing with the "post" format.  I'm going to try to write more quickly, focus on the flying more than the "story" aspects, and release a more elaborate version of the story as a .pdf once the race is over.  Please bear with me, thanks.

[PhrogPhlyer]

1 minute ago, TomPenDragon said:

Sorry about the confusion.  This part of the story takes place in Mexico, on 21 November.  I'm more used to writing novel-length and am still finding my footing with the "post" format.  I'm going to try to write more quickly, focus on the flying more than the "story" aspects, and release a more elaborate version of the story as a .pdf once the race is over.  Please bear with me, thanks.

I look forward to the final pdf of the story. I agree that brief story snippets to support pictures may be best for the thread, with the novel-length at completion that brings it all together, Other's stories, pictures, snippets might even enhance how you approach the novel.

[taoftedal]

4 minutes ago, TomPenDragon said:

Sorry about the confusion.  This part of the story takes place in Mexico, on 21 November.  I'm more used to writing novel-length and am still finding my footing with the "post" format.  I'm going to try to write more quickly, focus on the flying more than the "story" aspects, and release a more elaborate version of the story as a .pdf once the race is over.  Please bear with me, thanks.

 

... 

[ScottishMike]

Try as one might carrying on a conversation through headphones and mic is difficult.

The Airdale has many qualities, noise suppression is not one of them.

I pointed ahead as we approached two rivers: “Illinois and Mississippi ahead”.

Suzanne nodded. Gestures easier than talking.

We cleared the Illinois and closed in on the Mississippi, I couldn't help attempting a few verses of “Old Man River, just keeps rolling along”

“Your flying is better than your singing” cackled through the headphones. “And that's not saying very much.”.

I felt good, there is a kind of intimacy in a cockpit, Suzanne and I in that space. I knew it was a cliché but couldn't help it: “How does it feel crossing America in that special place between Heaven and Earth?” She turned towards me, screwed up her face “Have you been reading a new version of Biggels? The adult version? Or is it Barbara Cartland goes flying?”

It silenced me for a good few minutes.

Then : “We should be on time into Lebanon; we'll have all afternoon and evening to ourselves. We could hire a car and go exploring.”

“Thanks for the offer but she needs some attention”, she patted the dashboard, “oil and other bits and pieces. I'll stay on the airfield do some maintenance and greet some of the others when they arrive.”

“OK” I felt a little crest fallen, however a better engineer you could not hope to meet.

“Time for the descent, Lebanon is 15nm. away, turn to 240 degrees and descend to 2000'”

I did as instructed.

“OK now turn left to 180 degrees and down to 1800', there's Rwy 180 visual.”

She clicked the timer as I touched down Time:12:16 time elapsed : 2 hours 16 minutes.

Still three minutes out! I swore.

“You did OK again. Don't beat yourself up. Next time I won't add the extra three minutes for descent and landing. Probably my fault.” She patted my arm by way of conciliation.

 

[ViperPilot2]

11 hours ago, jgf said:

 

Same issue I have with helicopters, with the same joystick;  but that Logitech is the best $25 I ever spent on a computer (runs circles around that $140 Thrustmaster of 25 years ago).  With helicopters i keep thinking of those old joysticks with centering adjustments, a PITA back then but that would be a good workaround now.  I've found resting my palm on top of the Logitech and working it that way is much less stressful (and no problem hitting the buttons up there, they're just flaps and trim).

 

Have an old Saitek Cyborg also, but it's a gameport connector so useless now (unless I rebuild that old XP system);  but it was the most mechanically adjustable stick I've ever had.

 

Best Twenty Dollars I've spent for Computer stuff in ages! Got it on Sale about a Year ago, and haven't looked back. I couldn't justify potentially ruining a perfectly good Joystick just to soften the internal Spring, hence the old Saitek. I think it will make an excellent Helicopter joystick with these changes.

 

Whenever the Logitech goes on sale again, I will scoop one up in a jiffy to keep as a spare.

[TomPenDragon]

 

Rey taxied Sierra Hotel to the end of 04, ran through his run-up, and looked perplexed. “Do you feel her a little down on power?”

 

“She’s got the original, normally-aspirated Lycoming 0-360-A3A and prop,” Tom said. “When was the last time you flew anything that wasn’t at least turbonormalized?”

 

“From here? I can’t remember. I don’t know that I ever have.”

 

“Me either. You’re at 8120’; I’m a good 550’ above that. I didn’t feel the engine any different now than when I took off this morning.”

 

Rey lined up and pushed the throttle forward. Passing mid-field and touching 60 knots, he pulled on a notch of flaps. Sierra Hotel’s nose lifted, and they were up. He kept the aircraft flat, letting the ASI creep up to 70, when he dumped the flaps, and to 90, when he started to let her climb. Tom smiled; Sierra Hotel seemed happy with Rey’s hand on the yoke.

 

 

Mexico City glowed brightly in the moonless night. Winds were low and steady. There was just enough ambient light to make out the Popo and the Izta, silhouetted in the distance. Rey cruise-climbed to 10,500’ on a beam toward Otumba, and turned to 359^o., direct to Brownsville.

 

 

The Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacán was illuminated on this Saturday night, and as they saw it to the left, off of the wing, in the distance, both stilled their minds for a moment and saluted the ancestors.

 

“When you told me that it was a race,” Rey broke the silence, “I figured that we would be flying something more like a Porsche Mooney.”

 

Tom laughed. “That was my first thought, too. But, as the rules for the race developed, they specified that the aircraft had to be built at some point during the lifetime of US Route 66 – 26 November, 1926 to 6 June, 1985. Since the first Porsche Mooney didn’t come out until 1988, that ruled it out. So, I thought I’d take a regular Mooney M20J – I toyed with the idea of a V35 Bonanza, but one of the other racers beat me to it - maybe even put the Porsche livery on it. But the Beech’s a 1947 and the other entries were also on the older end of the scale, so the organizers dropped the upper end of the date range to 31 December, 1969. Since the M20J came out in the ‘70’s, there went my Mooney. So, I was walking through the hangar looking for something suitable when I saw Sierra Hotel. I hadn’t flown her in a few years, and since I was hoping you’d be able to join me, I figured it’d be a nice time to introduce you to her.

 

“The only problem was that the race rules specified original equipment only. When I rebuilt her, I turbonormalized and tuned the O-360 to put out 210 horsepower and matched it to a cruising prop – she’d hold 110 indicated at 12,500’ and 2500 RPM, full throttle. Then for grins I dropped in a 310-horsepower engine, turbocharged, and an electronically-pitchable prop. Sweet! That’s why she’s got a manifold pressure/fuel flow gauge next to the tach. For the race, I had the engine rebuilt to the original O-360-A3A spec.”

 

“She does take a little getting used to,” Rey said as they came up on Pachuca.

 

 

Passing Pachuca, the world went dark. It was a moonless night, which did not help matters at all. Tom, who was more experienced with the part of Mexico that some call the, “Thousand Peaks,” worked the terrain map of the GPS and called out headings to Rey, who focused on flying the aircraft. Both spent most of their time scanning the outside for obstructions, knowing that they would be lucky to see one early enough in this darkness to emit a final gasp before the world dissolved.

 

After a half-hour of this, Tom spied a broad pass, tuned the second VOR to Poza Rica, and instructed Rey to turn east and to climb to 11,500’. Almost immediately, the small towns and cities that dotted the coastal areas showed the contours of the mountains ahead. Both men breathed a sigh of relief. As soon as they cleared the Sierra Madre, Rey throttled back, richened the mixture, and let Sierra Hotel descend to 4500’. The little O-360-A3A that could seemed grateful not to be running at full throttle anymore.

 

Rey relaxed and started to enjoy the flight. Tom handed the GPS back to him and he turned the display off, confident now in the bearing to Brownsville and not wanting any extraneous lights in the cabin. Approaching Tamaulipas, Tom turned around and fished his phone and a small box out of his bag.

 

“I thought you said no phones on this trip,” Rey said as the light from the cellphone’s display temporarily blinded them both.

Tom dialed a number, and when the call connected said, “I’ve got the aircraft. It’s for you.”

 

[TomPenDragon]

“Hola m’hijo, ¿cómo estás?” Remi Ortiz’ face filled the screen.

 

“Fine, Remi,” Rey smiled. “You?”

 

“Fine, too. Where are you?”

 

“Coming up on Tamaulipas – I guess that’s why we’ve got cell service.”

 

“Very good. How is your flight. I can see you’re on the left side of the airplane. Are you driving?”

 

“Yes I am.” Rey suppressed a grin. Remi was a lot of things, but aviation-knowledgeable was not one of them.

 

“You should go up with him some time,” Tom leaned over and yelled.

 

“Cállate, Tomás. You know I get panicky in anything smaller than a Gulfstream.”

 

“It’s so nice to hear from you,” Rey said. “Where are you?”

 

“Basel.”

 

“Oh. It’s pretty late there. Did you stay up just to see me off?”

 

“No, Rey. I’m calling to discuss your employment situation.” Even in the dim red light of the cockpit lamp, Tom could see Rey go white. "Mine, too. I have to make this brief. M´hijo, I’m going to retire. I want you to take over the business.”

 

Rey was floored. Remi had spent the last half of her professional career building the world’s leading turnaround management firm. At 75, she had more energy than he did most days. He had never even contemplated her retiring, let alone his ever being asked to fill her shoes. “You want me to take over Remi Ortíz and Associates?”

 

“Did I say that, Reymundo?” Whenever she used his full first name, he knew to shut up and listen. “No. I want you to take over Ortíz, Harrison, and Associates. Tomás has something for you.”

 

Tom handed the box to Rey, who could barely hold it. He opened it to reveal a Patek Philippe Grand Complications.

 

“I know you like Patek as much as I do,” Remi said. “When he was helping me go independent, Tomás had Patek Philippe make me a custom watch. I’ve caught you admiring it over the past couple of years; don’t deny it. Now, there are two of these in the world. When you take on a partner, have the watch made for them, okay?”

 

Rey nodded, too stunned to speak. He fumbled trying to get the watch out of its case, so Tom set the autopilot, removed it for him, and placed it in his hand. “It’s inscribed,” Rey said as he turned it over.

 

He read the first word of the inscription and Tom held up a hand. “That’s between you and Remi,” he said softly and seriously.

 

Rey’s hands were shaking far too much to be able to put the watch on his wrist. He reached his left arm across his body. Tom removed the Tag Heuer that was on his wrist and buckled the Patek into place.

 

“I know you’re thinking you’re not ready,” Remi said. “I’m not going anywhere right away. You’ll be doing the work; don’t have any doubts about that. Running a hotel is a lot different than running Ortíz Harrison. I’ll mentor and guide you until you’re as convinced as I am that you’re ready. Maybe three, five years… And then we’ll head into port, take on a fresh crew, and you’re the new Dread Pirate Roberts, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Rey acknowledged weakly.

 

“Listen, I have to go.” Remi’s voice was beginning to crack. Neither man had ever heard it so much as quiver before. “Sorry for doing this over the phone, but I couldn’t get through it face-to-face. Mírame, estoy verklempt. Adios, m’hijo. Fly carefully.”

 

The phone went silent as tears began to flow freely down Rey’s cheeks. Tom’s eyes were misty as well as he extended his right hand, took Rey’s and shook it with more strength than his fingers would have been able to develop normally, and said, shakily, “Welcome to the big time, son.”

[TomPenDragon]

 

The two flew on in silence, with Tom piloting from the right seat until Rey was able to once more. He was dying to know what his protege was thinking, but knew to let him speak first. He didn’t. Sierra Hotel drifted down to 2500’, and when Rey finally said something, it was over the microphone to contact Houston Center to announce that they were 20 miles out from Brownsville.

 

 

Tom kept his hands close to the yoke, but Rey had no problem bringing the Cherokee down to pattern altitude, flying a decent downwind, base, and final, and setting Sierra Hotel down on the numbers. It was 22:30.

 

 

Rey taxied over to Immigration and Customs and shut the aircraft down. The agents on duty knew Tom, greeted him like an old friend, stamped their documentation as Tom talked with them about their families. The agents stepped out onto the ramp, walked around Sierra Hotel once, and stamped her paperwork while sharing their latest dirty joke with the pair. “So this is what the big time looks like,” Rey thought.

 

Tom took the left seat and taxied the Cherokee over to the fuel pump. It was self-service, so Rey hopped out and filled the tanks, taking his new watch off beforehand and carefully placing it back into its box to avoid scratching it.

 

 

Tom took off and climbed to 3500’. Rey reached into the back, took a jacket out of his bag, rolled it up, and asked, “Are you okay if I fall asleep for a little while? I’m exhausted.”

 

Before Tom could answer, he began to snore.

 

 

 

Sierra Hotel reached Little Rock on fumes. It was 3:00 in the morning. Tom thumped the landing; Rey didn’t stir. He taxied over to a fuel truck, the attendants of which took care of the Cherokee in short order. He was tired and contemplated waking Rey up, but if the man could sleep through that landing, he wouldn’t be in any shape to fly the airplane anyway. In minutes, Sierra Hotel was airborne again.

 

 

 

Rey awoke when the sun’s rays hit his face. “Where are we?” he asked, shaking the cobwebs out of his head.

 

“Illinois,” Tom said. “Passed St. Louis about a half hour ago.”

 

“You let me sleep all night? You had to have stopped for fuel. Where?”

 

“Little Rock.”

 

“Oh. See any interesting aircraft?”

 

“I saw an Aer Lingus Constellation on the tarmac. A little one, the 749.”

 

 

“Are you okay to fly?” Rey asked. “Want me to take her for a while?”

 

The skies had clouded over and the temperature was down into the icing zone. Tom had climbed to 5500’ to get into the clear.

“I’m okay,” Tom answered tiredly. “Almost there. If there’s a cup left in the thermos, I’ll take it.”

 

Rey poured the last three-quarters of a cup into the top and passed it to Tom, who knocked back the cold brew in one swig.

 

 

A few minutes later, Tom began to descend into Lansing. Mercifully, the overcast broke just as he was arriving. He scanned around frantically for the field, until Rey reminded him that it was not Lansing, Michigan, but Lansing Muni on the south side of Chicago, that was their destination.

 

 

After Rey helped him find the airport, he flew a not-quite-crisp pattern but still managed a decent landing on 27. He taxied to the fuel pump and had her filled, and then over to the parking space for a bungalow that Tom had booked as soon as the race was announced. Tom shut Sierra Hotel down and ran through the checklist with Rey to make sure that he didn’t miss anything. The two left the aircraft, unloaded their bags, chocked the wheels, and went to check out the bungalow. Tom dropped his bags in the smaller bedroom and immediately dropped onto the bed. It was just after 9:00, on 22 October, 2023.

 

 

[PhrogPhlyer]

1 hour ago, TomPenDragon said:

The two left the aircraft, unloaded their bags, chocked the wheels, and went to check out the bungalow. Tom dropped his bags in the smaller bedroom and immediately dropped onto the bed. It was just after 9:00, on 22 October, 2023.

Glad you made it to Lansing safely. Now get some much needed sleep.

[Melo965]

17 hours ago, jgf said:

fighting the internal Spring tension in my Logitech Extreme 3D joystick to where my wrist and hand cramp up and it gets very uncomfortable after about 30 minutes. Like real uncomfortable.. So, I pulled out an old Saitek Cyborg

 

My joystick of choice is the Thrustmaster T.16000M FCS.  I still have my original as a backup, but the new one has HallEffect sensors which are more precise.  I also like that the stick is ambidextrous so I can fly with the left hand on the stick like in a real Cessna.  The stick moves very smoothly and does not need much tension to hold the stick.  Thrustmaster quote: "The helical spring inside the stick provides firm, linear and smooth tension."   The only down side of the new joystick is that I ordered it during the pandemic and just after MSFS 2020 was announced, so it took over 9 months to receive the joystick.

 

[Melo965]

22 hours ago, PhrogPhlyer said:

And... Down!!!

I let the dust settle, look at the clock. 17:45.

Wow after over two hour in the air only three minutes behind planned. I need to thank my student pilot for his good review of the flight planning.

 

That is very impressive!  I can't imagine being anywhere close to the expected arrival time if I flew a leg in a helicopter.  Well Done!

[PhrogPhlyer]

1 minute ago, meloscanlon said:

flew a leg in a helicopter

And I have 9 more legs to fly.

Think I'll get a new seat cushion before the next flight!

[PhrogPhlyer]

Day 3 standings, based upon reported flight times/variances per route leg.

Updated as information gets posted. Should I miss anyone's posting of times, just give me a shout, and I'll correct this immediately'ish.

[Melo965]

21 hours ago, taoftedal said:

Wow!  Fabulous melos ... well done!  Can you pick me up a lottery ticket?

 

Thanks, but just beginners luck.  I did win $42 dollars once in the lottery ages ago.  With those normal odds, save your money.

 

[Melo965]

23 hours ago, PhrogPhlyer said:

I was hoping he'd fly my next leg for me,

 

In a helicopter - no way!  You would come in last with me at the controls. 

[PhrogPhlyer]

The real world out here will prevent me from being here until tomorrow evening.

Keep flying, posting, and having fun.

I will update the standings when I return.

[TomPenDragon]

03 November, 16:25. Lansing.

 

“Are we going already?” Rey had been waiting impatiently all day.

 

“I’m about done,” Tom moaned from his room. “Just a little more…”

 

“Are you writing or looking at porn? Come on, it’s getting dark!”

 

“If you’d quit interrupting, Rey, maybe I could get the last words down on the page and we could get out of here.”

 

“Oh, so it’s the second most productive of the two options.”

 

It was now the 3^rd of November, 16:00 in the afternoon. Rey had spent the last two weeks getting in touch with his, “inner huevón.” Tom had spent a large part of it battling with computers, and had then announced that he was going to try his hand at writing a novel. They had caught the Bears’ home game on the day that they had arrived in Lansing, which had been a thrill of a lifetime for Rey, who had followed the team since his youth. The Bears won at home, which must have been a thrill of a lifetime for them, too.

 

Rey heated up the last two slices of deep-dish and brought one in for Tom. He scarfed it down, got up, and washed his hands thoroughly, lest he get any grease on his new baby. He sat down, sighed, put a period to a sentence that he wanted to say more with but couldn’t figure out how. 

 

 

He shut down Writer to reveal SkyVector, Windy, and E6Bx in well-arranged tabs beneath. He checked the winds aloft again, shook his head, revised the flight plan, filed it, and shot a copy to his EFB.

 

He checked the drawers of the room one last time, zipped his bags closed, and emerged from the bedroom in which he had been ensconced for the past four days. He and Rey went through the bungalow, and Tom took the trash to the dumpster while Rey packed the bags into Sierra Hotel.

 

Rey was about to start the preflight check when Tom said, “I’d like to fly her today, if you don’t mind. She’s about to turn 500 hours on the rebuild, and I’d kind of like to take her over that mark myself. Would you turn in the house keys to the FBO, please?”

 

The young man was none too pleased at this, but he did so anyway. By the time he got back to Sierra Hotel, Tom was already in the left seat and was ready to start the engine.

 

 

Sierra Hotel fired up with just the slightest bump of the starter, which was a little surprising given the fact that most of the past couple of weeks had been close to or below freezing – it had even snowed a few days ago. Runway 09 was the active, but with a stiff crosswind. 36 might have been more favorable, but it was grass and unlit, and at 16:45, it was already too dark to risk.

 

 

Tom cranked in a lot of elevator trim but decided to forego flaps. He kept Sierra Hotel on the runway until she was doing nearly 70, then lifted off, kept her flat, and turned into the wind. Goodbye, Chicago!

 

 

Aside from some truly nasty headwinds, it was a pretty nice evening for flying. “Busting minimums, aren’t we?” Rey chided when Tom leveled off at 1500’.

 

“There’s no way we’ll make the flight plan if we go any higher,” Tom said. “The wind’s just too strong. I filed the plan for 1500’ and the system didn’t balk. If the FAA has any complaints, at least I can tell them, ‘I told you so.’ Do you still want to try to make Lebanon tonight?”

 

“Do you really want to stay in Zelmer?” Rey asked. A week ago, they had taken their one practice flight to 5K1. Neither was particularly impressed with the airport or its environs.

 

 

From the moment that the hour meter read 499.96, Tom’s eyes were glued to the RPM indicator. He gave a fist bump as the meter clicked over 500.00. Rey was not impressed. Shortly afterward, Tom took them up to 2500’ but stayed there only five minutes before bringing Sierra Hotel back down again.

 

 

They reached Bloomington with 59 minutes showing on the flight timer – they were ahead of schedule, which surprised them both. Tom throttled back a little, until the GPS’ ground speed matched the plan. Rey, already impatient, started to fidget.

 

“The aircraft can go faster, Thomas,” he said after a few minutes of staring at 100 knots on the ASI.

 

“It’s not a timed race, remember?” Tom responded. “It’s actual versus plan, and we’re already ahead of schedule. How come you want to get to Lebanon so badly anyway?”

 

“The organizers are planning an event for tonight. I thought it would be nice to spend some time with the other racers.”

 

“I haven’t seen anything official about that, Rey. Just that note from…” Tom paused, as the reason for Rey’s impatience became abundantly clear. Scottish Mike’s copilot had made the suggestion. So, his boy had started to notice girls… “Look, I don’t want to blow the race in the first couple of stints. The time penalties’re cumulative, so if we’re an hour fast, we can’t make that up going slower for the later legs – we just get further away from the mark. We’re not going to impress anyone that way, unless the impression you want to make is for stupidity.”

 

Tom could see that Rey was angered by this, but frankly he didn’t care. His friend had been a royal pain-in-the-(75-centimeters-below-the)-neck all day – and not all day, just from about a millisecond after Suzanne had posted her idea to the race chat.

 

 

 

They reached their second waypoint, Springfield, at 1:36 flight time, against 1:38 planned. Rey was pretty antsy by then. “Let’s get down, fuel up, and get going. I’m flying the second stint.”

 

“The heck you are!” Tom yelled loud enough to be heard through the headphones without the mic. “Look at yourself. You’ve got no perspective right now. I’m not worried about the race; I’m worried you’re going to break the airplane or get us killed. If it was any other aircraft except Sierra Hotel, I’d say, ‘Go, fly by yourself if you want...’”

 

“Did you have to pick the slowest plane in your fleet?" Rey interrupted.  "I’ve got news for you, Thomas. Hotel Juliet’s a pig. It can’t get out of its own way.” He went on to swear a blue streak in Spanish at Hotel Sierra and at Tom.

 

Tom sat and listened, and did not say another word until he announced a straight-in to Zelmer’s 18 over the unicom.

 

 

1:57 actual. 1:58 planned. 1 minute of variance. Tom taxied over to a free spot at the side of a hangar and shut Sierra Hotel down. He shot an arm across Rey’s face and unlatched the door. “Get out! Plane and I are staying here tonight. Want to get to KLBO, walk.”

[JSMR]

Holy moly! Everybody is only off by a min or two or three. I got a bad feeling I'll be bringing up the rear. 

So I've been thinking long and hard about my flight (s). What nun legs. I mean what flight legs? Stopping at each one or skip some?

So the other day I went to the local pub for some very light refreshment to think about what is the best option and how I can stay 'competitive'. 
Lots of thinking, thinking, thrinking, rinking, drinking, drinking, drinkinh, drithikinhg, thidrinkinh nad smeo moorrre hinkdrging . 

 

Right at the crucial moment, there was a disturbance...no..not in the force, but at the door. In walked an Englishman, an Irishman and a Catholic Priest. 

 

I looked back at the barman and said "What is this? Some kind of a joke?!!!"


 

[taoftedal]

5 hours ago, TomPenDragon said:

 ... they were ahead of schedule, which surprised them both. Tom throttled back a little, until the GPS’ ground speed matched the plan ... Tom could see that Rey was angered ...

 

Well done ... but did I detect a note of dissention within the team?  (Oh ... and you may want to check with the committee on the use of your GPS.  I'm not sure what's legal).  Regardless ... super!