ScottishMike

It had turned overcast and dark, wind and occasional rain blowing through. The “creative” from Happy Days was explaining the story with a large picture story board, Monique and her advert character Dimitry meet in Scotland. She has inherited her recently deceased grandmothers' cottage in Fife Scotland. Dimitry happens to be coming down the farm lane in his tractor towing a trailer full of oats destined for the Squitts oats processing plant. Her hire car outside the cottage won't start so Dimitry stops and gives her a lift in the tractor to the “farm kitchen”, never call it a factory or processing plant admonishes Frank, the “creative”. We are sitting in a hired suite at Meigs where the next scenes will be filmed, and Frank is trying to explain the demographic they are aiming for: B1a and C1, and the target ages and incomes. I lose what interest I had in his figures as outside a stunning vintage blue and white Beech 18 powers its twin radials into life, one after the other smoke erupts with a deep growl. A brave pilot risking such a machine in the dodgy weather. I wonder if he is just testing the engines or if he is going to take off. Frank is droning on. “Where do the aircraft come in?” I interrupt. I am, after all, supposed to be the Aircraft Consultant. Outside the Beech switches lights on then starts to move. That pilot IS going to take off. “If you concentrate it would help” admonished Frank. Monique is obviously attracted to Dimitry, they flirt in his tractor, but she considers him just a backwater farmer. The surprise comes here in Chicago” ... “Excuse me a sec I need to see this.” I go to the full size window to watch the Beech taxi to Rwy 18 and take off: “Sorry it's not every day you see a Beech 18 take off.” I apologise to Frank “You have my undivided attention.”. Frank continues; “Monique is mooring her yacht and comes ashore here just as Dimitry lands his plane. She recognises him and realises he is not just a bit of Scottish backwater beefcake.” We need you to decide what plane Dimitry would be flying and source it for the shoot.”. “OK I see...” still a bit at sea as to what is required. “Dimitry, or his advert persona, is clearly successful and independent, so the plane has got to match that. He pilots it, not a run of the mill plane, it has to look different, stand out, and not a corporate gas guzzler, Dimitry is ecologically concerned, not a vintage craft either, he is modern and not a military killing machine.” I power up my lap top and scan through possibilities for Frank: “This is modern, cutting edge and different:” “No, took big, this guy is an individual not a bus driver.” Frank comments. “Ok, so something smaller, two or four seats.” “The story line has the two taking off together in the last ad so it has to accommodate at least two.” adds Frank. “Well what about something small and intimate?”: “NO! Our character likes speed, is that powered by a rubber band?” “This has power, speed and charm.”: “Too old fashioned looking, our guy is in his early thirties not sixties. Totally wrong demographic” “Well this is totally modern in design, very individualistic”: Frank looked more interested but: “Too odd, it has to appeal to non aircraft people, that looks a bit fragile. Our guy is not a weirdo, he has to have mass appeal. The plane has to say, speed, money, individualism but also security and appeal across men AND women in our chosen market.” I was beginning to feel a little frustrated. “What about this then? It's amphibious, the Guy could land next to Monique's yacht. It's Italian, fast and expensive reminiscent of the Cote D'Azur and the Costa Smeralda in Italy. Frank seemed impressed, thought about it for a few seconds then: “No, still too odd looking, would your average successful woman feel safe getting in it?” So he wanted conventional and unusual. I brought four pictures up on screen: “There! Fast, expensive but conventional looking. Take your pick” “That last one! It looks just right, the cockpit like a fighter, easy to get both in shot, it looks fast. We'll go with that. Thank goodness a decision. Now I had to locate one and an experienced pilot to go with it and get both to Meigs. AlanPugh apologies for not asking permission to re-use your pics but they are just too good to not use!

Looking forward to the finished work. The default airport is not very good.

All from the web. I hope they help: Video from youtube: Bata landing video:

Hope this helps:Mustang.zip

I am a worried man, I fear my crash has highlighted breeches of the By-laws. It would not have been a problem, the whole thing would not have happened, but for being stuck in a single level group; I couldn't gain altitude and get to the next level up. I just managed to get my craft through the arrival window but my visual tags got caught and I crashed. I got confused not sure if this was a major or minor. I fear I will be under investigation by Timing and Scoring officials who may have to consult the Race Steward. The problem you see is my name: ScottishMike, this has probably already breeched the Ethno-Nationalism by-law, this is an egregious breech in its-self , never mind the crash. No doubt the Club Commodore will be involved and consult his advisors deeming this a Failure to Fulfil Obligations. Remedial Actions will be drawn up that it will be my Duty to fulfil. I will be drummed out of the club as the officials stand to attention in their shiny new uniforms. Please take with a pinch of humour!

I've sent Monique to "distract" Tim. No way are we letting him interfere with our General Meeting.

As Groucho Marx famously said: "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member"

Nice to see participation from MSFS 2020. Thanks Nels.

It hits you. Just like that. No warning. No clue it's coming. Words jumbled between brain and mouth. I am professional though; I forced the word out, the only one I could manage: “Hello.”. Late March in Scotland, sometimes the odd day can be gentle, sun and scudding clouds driven on a moderate breeze, today more typical, skeletal trees waving in the wind silhouetted against a tumble of grey cloud producing intermittent horizontal rain. Despite the weather I enjoyed the drive down from Aberdeen. Wind tugging at the car as I crossed the two miles of Tay Road Bridge into The Kingdom Of Fife. The “new” rail bridge off to my right, black stumps of it's ill fated predecessor sticking up out of the grey tossing water; ghosts of the news on the car radio. Only twenty or so miles to the Squitts Porridge Oats factory. I had printed out the e-mail, yes I know “Save trees...etc.” but sometimes a printed copy is best. Folded in my jacket pocket. The USA advertising campaign Squitts had run around my teams' Bendix Race participation had apparently been very successful. They wanted to run a follow on campaign. Would I be interested in participating as the aircraft consultant? They were shooting some scenes at the Fife factory, the rest would be located in and around Chicago. If I agreed terms I could travel with the advertising team back to Chicago when the shooting in Scotland was done. It was cold, dawn just braking. Our luggage and passports checked by the staff at the business aviation terminal. No one was in a talkative mood. Alessandra the cinematographer keeping an eagle eye on the baggage handler loading her equipment. Rory the stills photographer insisting his three cases travelled with him and Russel the sound man feigned disdain as he had been told sound would be dubbed in later. Monique and Dimitry, the stars of the advert, wrapped in fashionable coats walked ahead of me with stylish gate to the HS 125-800. I followed. The aviation “expert” or fool, take your pick. As they say: “No fool like an old fool”. But credit where credit is due, I had managed a conversation with Monique, it had lasted almost five minutes. The plain was fitted out with seven armchairs, Monique plonked down in the window seat of the group of four, her bag on the seat next to her, magazines on the table. I sat in the window seat facing her. She did her best to ignore me. The plane was warming up despite the frosty atmosphere. Too many big egos in a small space. We pushed back. I knew Edinburgh Turnhouse well. We taxied out on what was once the main runway, now rarely used as such, the cargo boys on the right: And the newer passenger terminal extension on the left: We were heading for rwy 060, taking us past the original terminal “Do you like flying?” I asked Monique. She glanced in my direction, not difficult as I was sitting opposite, she raised an eyebrow and went back to examining Vogue magazine. Not a word spoken in reply. I glanced out the window, we were holding for rwy 060. Not sure why, I couldn't- see any approaching traffic. Nobody seemed to be in a talkative mood. I hoped it was just the early start, otherwise this was going to be a long morose journey. Still, once belts came off I would go forward and talk to the pilots. We inched forward and stopped again. There could be any number of reasons we were still holding. Eventually we rumbled forward and turned onto the runway. I felt the familiar punch into the seat as we accelerated and a few seconds later the rumble stopped and we took flight. “Well, on our way then!” I said to no one in particular. No one in particular replied. Not even a raised eyebrow above Vogue. I hoped the de-icing equipment outside was working better than in here. I tried braking the ice: “I wonder where we'll land to re-fuel?”. That got a response. “What do you mean stop to re-fuel?” growled Russel the sound man. “This plane hasn't the range to reach Chicago, we'll have to re-fuel somewhere.” A groan came from behind Vogue. “Porca la miseria” muttered Alessandra. Dimitry the model, would be actor, stood addressing the cabin, but directed at me: “Well darling, you're supposed to be the plane man, is this the best you could come up with?” he continued filing his nails as he spoke. I tried to explain that my job was choosing and sourcing the aircraft that would be used in the adverts. This HS125 was chartered by Happy Times the ad agency hired by Squitts Porridge Oats to produce the advertising campaign. Daylight outside as we climbed steeply through the cloud cover: The flight attendant appeared from the vestibule: “Drinks ?” I unbuckled and went forward to talk to the pilots. So, if the winds went against us it was to be Narsarsuaq in Greenland. If favourable we could continue to Goose Bay in Labrador. I returned to my seat to contemplate the madness of being smitten by Monique. A grown man, attacked by Cupid in such a devastating manner. Security should not have allowed a cherub armed with a bow and arrow on board, it clearly was a dangerous weapon. We were at cruising altitude and leaving the last of Scotland, the Western Isles, behind. Monique had claimed the only spare seat with her bag., Alessandra sat next to me craning across to look out the window. “We're south of Iceland. Not much to see apart from the Atlantic and cloud.” I chirped out helpfully. Monique put Vogue aside and did her model walk down the aisle to the toilet. So silly, but I was mesmerised. Alessandra turned to me: “You like Mona no?” Embarrassed I nodded. “Why do you call her Mona?” “She does nothing but moan, moan, moan.” “She is very attractive.” I replied “Men! You think with your, what do you call them in English?, “palle”” I tried to change the subject: “Where in Italy do you come from?” “Roma. I work mostly in Cinecitta. I tell you; going out with Mona a big mistaka! She walk all over you and spit out!” Mona, no not Mona, Monique did her catwalk bit back to her seat. The dream was crumbling, Alessandra had punched Cupid in the face and he was tumbling from his cloud. I made my way to the cockpit. “Only 20% fuel left. We're going for Narsarsuaq.” the copilot informed me. Charts open on his knee. The seat belt signs came on and I returned to my seat. “What's happening?”Monique sounded alarmed. “Landing here in Greenland to refuel. A few twists and turns to get lined up for the runway that's all.” The cloud was quite heavy and low, mixed with steep sided fjords made the approach difficult. The only nav aid a DME Down to 2000' following the fjord and the airport is still not in sight. Finally the rwy lights appear in the distance: Final approach not bad: And safely down: Taxiing to the small terminal for fuel: The place has a rugged beauty all of it's own. Bright coloured wooden houses dot the landscape. The fuel tanks we passed re-assure there is plenty of fuel available. It is probably a common fuelling stop for all those that can't manage the Atlantic in one hop. Fuelled, all back on board and fastened up we taxi out to runway 250. Once again the desolate landscape strikes me as beguilingly attractive: Full power and we are off, bye Greenland: I stare at not much more than cloud as we climb to altitude heading south west for Canada: I can't look at Monique, the dream has shattered, so soon after such an intense almost adolescent crush. As they say: “No fool like an old fool.” I knock on the pilot's door. I hear it unlock. Sad modern regulations just serve to deepen my low mood.. I really just want to talk to people I feel I have something in common with. We discuss the flight plan; cruising at 36000' following a direct GPS course for Meigs. The only fly in the ointment a head on jetstream of 80 to 100kts slowing us down to a GS of 340 kts with consequent high fuel burn. We might just make it to Chicago if the winds abate, but it is possible we might have to stop again for another refuel. The wind keeps strong, Sudbury Ontario is the best candidate, almost directly below our flight path. I break the news to the passengers, almost with glee, as if they are all implicated in my broken heart and demotion from teenager with a whole life ahead of him back to silly old man with fewer years left. The engine note is changing and it rings my pilot alarm bells. They unlock the door “what's happening?” I ask casually. “Pitot froze, the air speed indicator fell to zero so the auto throttle increased engine power. We disconnected auto throttle and made sure pitot heat was on. The airspeed indicator is working properly again so we switched auto throttle back on. Nothing to worry about.” I sat back in my seat and tried to relax, but wondered how the pitot heat had not been switched on when we left Greenland. What other procedures have been skipped? I got the feeling I was no longer welcome in the cockpit. The fasten seat belt sign came on and the trolley dolly checked we were complying. We were circling and descending, presumably for Sudbury: Much lower now, we straighten out for final, we should pick up the ILS somwhere over the lake: We do and are on a good final: Touch down and heavy breaking. I wonder if it was a late touch down necessitating the heavy braking. Still safely down. We troop out to the terminal in the snow as the HS125 is once again refuelled. The Sudbury crew are as fast as a formula 1 team. Bearley time for a Canadian muffin and we are back aboard and ready to go. No sooner had we started to taxi than we come to a standstill: After a few minutes a tow tractor arrives and pulls the old Cessna out of the way. On our way again to rwy 220 Full power and once again airborn: Not long after leaving Sudbury the crew announce we are about to enter US airspace, crossing lake Huron. Not that much is visible from the air: We start a gentle descent over Muskegon and lake Michigan, and receive clearance for Meigs runway 180: The Chicago skyline is impressive, but it does make for a dangerous slightly curved approach: Heading onto final below the height of the surrounding buildings. Visibility is good but there is a 10 kt cross wind: Finally down safely: We taxi to our parking spot and a well deserved rest. All told the flight has lasted 10 hours and 10 minutes. I shall go and try to mend emotionally in a Chicago bar before meetings tomorrow with “creatives” from Happy Times to decide upon aircraft for the adverts and a jolly few weeks working with my fellow passengers. Deep joy!

I had already posted. Does anyone know how I can edit the title now it's posted?

Will try to alter it

I hope you don't mind me starting a new thread for the Meigs fly in. We can always move it if it's a problem. The title is Meigs or Bust.

The Beech King Air 300 is from AFG. The base file is on this site here: AFG300V1.zip There are loads of textures in the files here as well.