dhall_polo
Well Known Member
A little background...
My wife is no thrill seeker. It took years of persistence to get her into her first small airplane ride with a close friend. With even more patience and persistence, she agreed to let *me* give her a plane ride in my old, faithful Archer. That ride is one we still joke about today. I was so caught up in making sure she was ok, that I forgot to latch the Archer's door. [yes it's on the checklist] We take off, and the cabin is dominated by the loud howling from the winds of the improperly secured door. No problem. Just put in a little slip to help with the wind pressure and lock that door. All she saw was that she was suddenly looking more directly at the ground. That is definitely not right. And there I am reaching for the door latch. Yep, I must be trying to throw her out. About 1/10000th of a second later I realize that plan is not going to work. It's much better, apparently, to help crash an airplane than be thrown from it. A few calm words and no more reaching for the latch restores order to the cockpit. There was no way I was going to land back at the same airport, because that would have been it for the flight. I stopped at a nearby airport, secured the door, and did a little 'splaining about my faux pas with the checklist. Amazingly enough, we actually managed to complete a nice trip to a little romantic getaway.
We made a few more trips over the years. She learned to accept planes, but it was something she could do without. Then, with horror, she witnessed me writing that check for the empennage about four years ago. When I misplace my watch or a set of keys, that amuses her, but now I'm building an airplane that her babies will fly in? If I had set my hair on fire and taken up witchcraft, she'd have been less horrified. From the shock of that moment, we move into the simmering acceptance of the actual build period. Simmering and acceptance don't seem to go together, but the next four years in my house were filled with equal amounts of both. Frankly, I get that. The time and money it takes to build a plane are considerable, and the family most assuredly missed out on a few trips to Europe or the Rockies because of a hunk of metal.
Fast forward to today. He who loses keys wants to take her flying. A "Gennett" day landed on a Sunday. I call it a "Gennett" day when that magical trifecta of low winds, high visibility, and cool temps mix to produce the perfect flying day. I expected Gennett would wait until I had 1000 hours on the RV before she gave it a go, but this past Sunday I got the thumbs up. With assurances that there would be no inverted flight she agreed to go. She was even kind enough to remind me to latch the door before getting my takeoff clearance. "Thank you, honey." On the takeoff roll, you could feel the nervousness, but slowly as we gained altitude her confidence started building, and she had a great time. She even got rather snap-happy with the camera, and we had a nice hour-long flight to nowhere.
My wife is no thrill seeker. It took years of persistence to get her into her first small airplane ride with a close friend. With even more patience and persistence, she agreed to let *me* give her a plane ride in my old, faithful Archer. That ride is one we still joke about today. I was so caught up in making sure she was ok, that I forgot to latch the Archer's door. [yes it's on the checklist] We take off, and the cabin is dominated by the loud howling from the winds of the improperly secured door. No problem. Just put in a little slip to help with the wind pressure and lock that door. All she saw was that she was suddenly looking more directly at the ground. That is definitely not right. And there I am reaching for the door latch. Yep, I must be trying to throw her out. About 1/10000th of a second later I realize that plan is not going to work. It's much better, apparently, to help crash an airplane than be thrown from it. A few calm words and no more reaching for the latch restores order to the cockpit. There was no way I was going to land back at the same airport, because that would have been it for the flight. I stopped at a nearby airport, secured the door, and did a little 'splaining about my faux pas with the checklist. Amazingly enough, we actually managed to complete a nice trip to a little romantic getaway.
We made a few more trips over the years. She learned to accept planes, but it was something she could do without. Then, with horror, she witnessed me writing that check for the empennage about four years ago. When I misplace my watch or a set of keys, that amuses her, but now I'm building an airplane that her babies will fly in? If I had set my hair on fire and taken up witchcraft, she'd have been less horrified. From the shock of that moment, we move into the simmering acceptance of the actual build period. Simmering and acceptance don't seem to go together, but the next four years in my house were filled with equal amounts of both. Frankly, I get that. The time and money it takes to build a plane are considerable, and the family most assuredly missed out on a few trips to Europe or the Rockies because of a hunk of metal.
Fast forward to today. He who loses keys wants to take her flying. A "Gennett" day landed on a Sunday. I call it a "Gennett" day when that magical trifecta of low winds, high visibility, and cool temps mix to produce the perfect flying day. I expected Gennett would wait until I had 1000 hours on the RV before she gave it a go, but this past Sunday I got the thumbs up. With assurances that there would be no inverted flight she agreed to go. She was even kind enough to remind me to latch the door before getting my takeoff clearance. "Thank you, honey." On the takeoff roll, you could feel the nervousness, but slowly as we gained altitude her confidence started building, and she had a great time. She even got rather snap-happy with the camera, and we had a nice hour-long flight to nowhere.
