atreff
Well Known Member
Thursday night, sweeping up bits of tie-wraps and blue masking tape, I pushed the dirt tailwheel forward, and as I passed the broom around each wheel I stopped and stared at the cowl and prop. All the tools are put away, rolling tables pushed aside the fuselage stands free. The fluorescent glare is sparkling off fresh paint, which has become a backdrop for the deep metallic blue stripes and tail graphic.
The canopy is closed, and it really looks like it's ready to fly. My visualization felt so real as I imagined what she will look like on the first start of the engine. The groaning of the starter slowly moving the prop, then the first ignition strike which shakes the light airframe like a dog exiting the ocean. Maybe it doesn't start first try. Whine of the boost pump, hit the starter again. A pop, another big bang from those 10:1 compression pistions. This time I see the wingtips dip, rocking on the flexible main gear legs. A belch of smoke out the stacks. I imagine the heat under the top cowl. Oil streaks down the belly. Wind is blowing thru the open canopy. The Beast lives. It has awakened for the first time, and I'm The Master.
I notice I'm feeling giddy, but not the "xmas morning" kind. More like the feeling I get as I screw up the courage to launch my skiis off a cornice, or take the first step over the cliff edge to begin a rappel back down. The nervous elation of the unknown to come. I also feel a bond starting between this pile of parts and me, and I'm surprised. I sense a powerful personality coming thru this little hot rod.
She sits tall on her gear, the spinner tip is slightly above eye level. Her nose arrogantly points skyward and twin 2" stacks jab out the cowling stabbing in the opposite direction. The Beast continues to demand my attention, and I find it hard to turn away. Sure, I've felt this before, but it has always been cerebral/worry on my part- "What did I forget to rivet? Did I size that wire correctly? Dang-I forgot to deburr those holes before I dimpled them! Did I torque those bolts?". The voices over the last 6 years have been from me. Not this time. Tonight Lil' Snorkey (that's her name) is staring me down like a Doberman, daring me to turn away. In this moment it speaks its first words,
"It's about time, white boy! Strap in and push the starter! I don't know about you, but I'm ready. I want you to Do it Now!"
I will.
Stay tuned. We leave for the airport tomorrow.
Art Treff
Asheville NC
RV-8 N666AT
"Lil Snorkey"
The canopy is closed, and it really looks like it's ready to fly. My visualization felt so real as I imagined what she will look like on the first start of the engine. The groaning of the starter slowly moving the prop, then the first ignition strike which shakes the light airframe like a dog exiting the ocean. Maybe it doesn't start first try. Whine of the boost pump, hit the starter again. A pop, another big bang from those 10:1 compression pistions. This time I see the wingtips dip, rocking on the flexible main gear legs. A belch of smoke out the stacks. I imagine the heat under the top cowl. Oil streaks down the belly. Wind is blowing thru the open canopy. The Beast lives. It has awakened for the first time, and I'm The Master.
I notice I'm feeling giddy, but not the "xmas morning" kind. More like the feeling I get as I screw up the courage to launch my skiis off a cornice, or take the first step over the cliff edge to begin a rappel back down. The nervous elation of the unknown to come. I also feel a bond starting between this pile of parts and me, and I'm surprised. I sense a powerful personality coming thru this little hot rod.
She sits tall on her gear, the spinner tip is slightly above eye level. Her nose arrogantly points skyward and twin 2" stacks jab out the cowling stabbing in the opposite direction. The Beast continues to demand my attention, and I find it hard to turn away. Sure, I've felt this before, but it has always been cerebral/worry on my part- "What did I forget to rivet? Did I size that wire correctly? Dang-I forgot to deburr those holes before I dimpled them! Did I torque those bolts?". The voices over the last 6 years have been from me. Not this time. Tonight Lil' Snorkey (that's her name) is staring me down like a Doberman, daring me to turn away. In this moment it speaks its first words,
"It's about time, white boy! Strap in and push the starter! I don't know about you, but I'm ready. I want you to Do it Now!"
I will.
Stay tuned. We leave for the airport tomorrow.
Art Treff
Asheville NC
RV-8 N666AT
"Lil Snorkey"