Chipmunk N03UJ

Uncle Johnny finished his waffle as the long Island Sound slid underneath him and the DeHavilland Chipmunk.u

He knew Farmingdale was south of his position. Landing at Farmingdale was one of two options.
He really wanted to land at Farmingdale to show this plane to his friends and family. If he did, he was told that would be his last flight in an undetermined line of planes. His friends would love to see this gem and he would love to show it to them. He thought about buzzing the field and not landing, but that's not smart and there would be no guarantee anyone was around to see it. He thought about buzzing the houses of his friends, but that's never smart.
The other option was banking right and heading north. Aim for Stamford, CT and trace a huge left arc that would go around NYC airspace and cross the Hudson up around Croton. It would be a nice flight in a great plane.
 With NYC airspace practically on his spinner, it was decision time and the choice was difficult. In the spirit of living to fight another day, he scrapped Farmingdale for the time being and opted to put off seeing his friends until he had some kind of idea, plan or scheme. He banked hard right and put Farmingdale at his six o'clock. It was a great flight.
"DeHavilland November Zero Three Uniform Juliet cleared to land Morristown runway 5."
"Runway 5 Uniform Juliet." Uncle Johnny was surprised by the indifference coming from the tower. Clearly this tower operator didn't know what was approaching his airport.
The name DeHavilland should have perked  his ears up. This could be an Otter, a Twin Otter, a Beaver, all classics. But this is a Chipmunk, the best of the DeHavilland line and this person doesn't seem to be aware. He probably didn't hear. If he did, he would absolutely request a flyby at least. This has to be the hottest thing to land at this airport, or in Klopstokia, in years. Uncle Johnny decided to do him a favor.
"Morristown tower, this is DeHavilland Chipmunk Zero three Uniform Juliet."
"Yes, go ahead Uniform Juliet."
"Would you like a flyby of the tower?"
"No. Uniform Juliet, you are cleared to land Runway 5."
Uncle Johnny was now shocked at this reaction. What was with this guy?
"Morristown tower, this is Chipmunk Uniform Juliet. Would you like a go-around?" A go-around is a time buying move where the pilot goes around the pattern again, without landing. It can be requested by the pilot or the tower and is usually used to avoid problems such as airplanes bumping into each other.
"Uniform Juliet, the tower is not requesting a go-around. Do you need to request one?" This time Uncle Johnny heard a bit of impatience in the voice of the tower.
"Negative." said Uncle Johnny.
"Uniform Juliet cleared to land runway 5. Please exit the active runway as soon as possible. Turn off at Foxtrot or Golf if possible. I have my eye on a Lear 55 on final."
"He has his eye on a Learjet when a Chipmunk is right in front of him? What's wrong with this little jerk?"
 Now, a Learjet, any model Learjet at all, is always something to see. Tied down or flying. And moneywise, even an old Lear 55 can be worth about twenty Chipmunks, believe it or not. But how many times has a Lear landed here? This airport has a gaggle of Learjets and other corporate jets parked all over. This could easily be the first Chippie to visit here.
Uncle Johnny landed just after the runway numbers and rolled to the turn off at Foxtrot. He taxied to the intersection of alpha taxiway, waited for taxi instructions from the tower and watched the lights of the approaching Lear.
Even with its great approaching speed, the landing lights of the Lear, from Uncle Johnny's position, looked like they were just being gently lowered to Earth with no other movement whatsoever. That pilot was good, too. A slight puff of blue smoke showed he touched down right around where Uncle Johnny did and Uncle Johnny watched as he shot right by the Foxtrot and Golf turnoffs. It turned off at Hotel, using most of a mile to stop. Planes like Lears deserve all of the runway they want.
From the tower, "Uniform Juliet taxi across runway three one. Turn right on Bravo taxiway and proceed to the West tie down.
Uncle Johnny gave up. The dullard in the tower wasn't even requesting a taxi up to the tower.
Uncle Johnny taxied to the far side of the airport and eased the Chipmunk into the West tie down area which was filled with alot of single engine propeller planes and no jets. He instantly went to the front of the ramp and found the first tie down open. It was so predictable getting the first tie down.
Uncle Johnny slid the canopy top back, carefully stepped out onto the wing and then the ramp. He stepped back to look again at this gem. This plane was still charming after a decent trip.
He had just finished tying the plane down when he noticed someone quickly approaching him. He figured it was someone from the FBO coming to help out and about time too. There was no one else in sight and this place seemed lifeless. He continued securing the plane without looking up.
"Hey that's a beautiful set of wings there. I haven't seen a DHC-1 Chipmunk in years."
Uncle Johnny was locking the flight control surfaces. "Oh yeah. She's a beauty all right. Inside and out. She just needs to be topped off."
"The FBO will take care of that."
"Well, who are you then?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"I just came over to see this plane, I don't work here."
"Take a closer look then. All original as you can see."
"Yeah, I see." Then they looked at each other.
"John?"
"Bill?"
Yeahs all around.
It was Bill Baxter, Uncle Johnny's flight instructor from years ago at MacArthur. Between the two of them, they could talk planes enough for three men.
Uncle Johnny started, "What are you doing here?"
"Flying other people's airplanes. I'm doing some corporate flying when I'm not flying for the airlines. So what are you doing here?"
"Flying other people's airplanes, also."
"Nice. So you came in on this? I was in the Lear right behind you. I heard a lot of chatter between you and the tower."
"Yeah I wanted to see if the tower was interested in a flyby, but no chance. What's with that?"
"C'mon. You just wanted to do some low level maneuvers, admit it."
One thing about Bill Baxter, he always cut right to it, accurately.
"Yeah you're probably right. But the tower wasn't interested at all in a flyby of a Chipmunk? Do you believe that? Have you seen this plane?"
"Yes. I'm standing right next to it."
"Funny."
"Look, John. I love this plane and so do you, but there's a whole generation out there who couldn't care less about old planes. They couldn't tell a Mustang from a Corsair. If it doesn't have a turbine on it, or approach mach, they're not interested."
Uncle Johnny was glad Bill made it to the big games. He was a pilot's pilot, (whatever the hell that means) but without all the corn. He was not the type of pilot who announced he was a pilot, or worse, the one who stands around with his hands on his hips looking wistfully up at the sky like he's never seen it before or maybe he left something up there.
"Really? That's unbelievable."
"What's unbelievable is running into you in after all these years. The big question is, how does she handle?"
"Beautifully. An absolute dream to fly."
"No doubt." said Bill as he smiled and looked the Chippie over for the second, third and fourth time.
"How do you like the Lear?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"Hey what's not to like? The cockpit's a little tight, but it's worth squeezing into. Lear couldn't make an ugly plane if they wanted to."
"What are you flying for the airlines?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"I'm in 757s and 767s. I love the 757. That thing's a real hot rod."
To Uncle Johnny, Bill made the point that he really loved the 757, but comparing a plane to something as common as a hot rod was almost unthinkable. Still, it was interesting listening to someone he knew speak freely about flying the "big iron" or large planes. Especially without all the maize.
"Well, I gotta get going. I'm sure my ride's tanks and seats are all filled up by now."
"Alright, Keep 'em level."
"Keep 'em level is what I do. I spend hours keeping my wings level. I have to with over a hundred asses in seats behind me. As for this little aerobatic honey here, just stay inside the envelope, alright? And remember, blue on top and green on the bottom when landing."
"Ever the instructor." Uncle Johnny thought.
"Will do. Anyway, where you off to?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"Back to MacArthur. Take care, man." said Bill as he turned to walk away.
Bill was about halfway across the ramp when Uncle Johnny yelled."Hey, Bill, you still do flight reviews?"
"Yeah. Look me up when the time comes. By the way, uh, how are you doing?"
"Fine and you?" said Uncle Johnny.
"Yeah, fine."
"Good seeing him." they each thought.
Uncle Johnny had the Chipmunk all secured and headed into the FBO.
Behind the desk was a young man sitting on a bar stool with his head in a book. Other than Bill, this was the only sign of life he saw since landing. And it was only a sign of life.
"Excuse me. Hello, I'm Uncle Johnny and I just tied down the Chipmunk out there."
"Okay." without lifting his head. "We'll get it taken care of."
Clearly the name Chipmunk hadn't sunk in or made an impression on the little clod. Uncle Johnny leaned a little closer to see what the maroon found so interesting. It was an IFR training manual. IFR - Instrument Flight Rules- is a very involved study of flying with very heavy reliance on instruments.
This guy was obviously overtaken by his studies to appreciate what just taxied onto his ramp. Uncle Johnny could be understanding. "Hey, some gas would be nice. Today. In the DeHavilland Chipmunk."
He casually looked up. "Okay, what's the November number?"
"What do you need the N number for? It's the only Chipmunk out there? Probably in the whole North East."
"I just have to take it and mark it down. Probably some sort of security thing or other. I don't know. I just work here."
Can't argue with that. "Alright it's November zero three Uniform Juliet."
"Okay we'll get her filled up. You need a rush on that?"
Uncle Johnny wasn't sure this guy was capable of anything that approached a rush, but was glad the word was in his vocab.
"No, I'll be here overnight. I'm here to check the tower beacon."
"Wow, there's a job for that?"
Someone was questioning his questionable responsibility so Uncle Johnny went into his serious voice. "Of course there's a job for that. That tower and it's beacon are under control of the FAA." Looking at the young man's flight text book which always have FAA references scrawled inside them, "Need I say more?"
Luckily for both of them, he needn't. Luckily for you and me, too.
"You know any hotels around here?"
"Yeah, down the road is the Hyatt House. Their number's in the book. Here." He slid the telephone and book to him.
"No vacancies?  None at all?"
"No, sorry. The Revolutionary War Reenactment is this week and all our rooms are taken. I think most nearby hotels are all booked up."
"Do you know of any vacancies at all nearby?"
"Sorry."
Desk boy overheard the entire exchange and chimed in "Hey, I know of a bed and breakfast not far that just opened."
"Hey, a bed and breakfast. Do they have waffles?"
"I don't know, but they might have an opening." said desk boy. "It's owned by my friend Mark's parents."
"Oh yeah? Could you call him?"
"No. He never picks up."
"What's he do?"
"He's a comedian. Standup."
"You ever see him?"
"Of course. He does this awesome monologue on childbirth and then kills with his description of the birth of twins."
"No. I mean do you ever see him around here?"
"Nah. He's too busy to hang around here."
"What's the name of the place? do you know that?"
"No, I'm not sure they even had a name when I heard about it."
"Great. Does he have any brothers or sisters you could call?"
"He's got three brothers. But I don't know. One guy isn't always in America, so he's impossible to get a hold of."
"What about the other two brothers?"
"They're twins. I think they disowned him."
"I see."
"Look, I know where it's located. I'll just drive you over there. If it works you stay, if not they may be able to help you find something. My last lesson ends around eight tonight. In the mean time, you can work the yellow pages." Then he went into the back room.
This was a spot. Uncle Johnny had to find a place to stay, take care of the tower beacon and get back and forth. His only tool was the yellow pages. About the time he found H for hotel in the yellow pages, the FBO door opened and in stepped somebody. Uncle Johnny heard them but was a little busy hunting for a lodge. The voice was louder than necessary for the room.
"Excuse me. Hello. Is Tommy in? Did you see Tommy?"
"What? Who?" Uncle Johnny just loved these guys that asked double questions. Especially when he was trying not to lose his spot in the book.
"Who's that?"
"Tommy, the flight instructor. You see him?" Again with the volume turned higher than need be. It might have been cool if the voice were a basso profundo saying "hello friends", but it wasn't. It was a bogus maximus trying to say "lookee, I'm an alpha dog", all of which added up to an appearance of a hyper active, hypo impressive middle aged frat boy.
"No, I don't think..."
Out from the back came desk boy.
"Hey Tommy!"
"Hey Bruno. I'm glad you showed up early. It's getting dark early, now. You go out and start the preflight on 897 and I'll get the log."
Are we going to do touch and goes today?"
"First we'll practice slow flight while it's still light out, then we'll get to the crash and dashes."
Uncle Johnny never thought calling a 'touch and go' a 'crash and dash' was funny. It was barely clever. But as far as pilot 'humor' went, it was tops.
Deskboy, now Tommy, walked past Uncle Johnny to the logbooks and almost knocked him over.
"Hey Bruno, wait." Bruno was almost outside. Do you know the name of the bed and breakfast out on Rte 510? We're trying to get this guy set up there for the night. He's with the FAA and he's here to work on the tower beacon."
"Hmm. The FAA." Bruno stepped back a bit and the two regarded each other. Bruno straightened up a bit more.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Bruno Herndon."
"Likewise. I'm Uncle Johnny."
"Okay, so yeah, the bed and breakfast on 510? It's between Florham Park and Livingston. It's brand new."
"Do you know the name?"
"Um, yeah...Washington's Bedquarters."
"That sounds kinda sleazy." said Uncle Johnny not suppressing a wince/smirk combination.
Bruno apparently didn't care for that comment. "No, that's a great name. It mixes the bed and breakfast theme with Morristown being Washington's Headquarters."
"What, and no jokes about him being the 'father of the country' with that name?"
"We don't make those kind of jokes. And who tells jokes about George Washington anyway?"
"I got a bunch of them. Why did his parents name him after a bridge?"
"That's not funny." very deadpanned. "And there's nothing sleazy about Morristown."
"Who could be so proud of the area where they live?" wondered Uncle Johnny. "Well, obviously this windbag could."
"You just said it's not even in Morristown."
"Close enough. This area has great historical significance and we're proud of it. You can look up the history of this area."
"Nah, I just learned enough."
"Oh yeah? So what do you do in the tower?"
"I inspect and adjust the beacon..."
"You mean the FAA sends you out to change the light bulb?"
This guy really was both halves of an ass and Uncle Johnny was ready to school the frat boy with an extra long dissertation on beacons, maintenance, and any other crap he could think of when he was interrupted by Tommy.
"Hey Bruno, how's that preflight inspection coming? We're burning daylight. I gotta make a few calls inside, then I'll be right out."
What better way to end a conversation than with Uncle Johnny and Bruno giving each other the stink eye?
Uncle Johnny dialed up information and asked to be connected to Washington's Bedquarters.
"Washington's Bedquarters? That's the real name? They must get alot of jokes about that one." said the operator.
"That's what I thought. You're not from Morristown are you?"
"No, sir. Connecting you with Washington's Bedquarters. Have a nice day."
"Hello. Washington's Bedquarters. Ellen speaking."
"Hi Ellen. I'm Uncle Johnny and I'm hoping you have a vacancy for tonight."
"Yes we do. A brigadeer general just cancelled his reservation. May I ask how you heard of us?"
"I was referrred to by a friend of your son, the comedian."
"My Mark is more than a comedian. Now when can we expect you?"
"Around eight thirty."
"Fine. See you then, Uncle Johnny."
Uncle Johnny could have kicked himself for not asking if they had waffles for breakfast.
Tommy came out of the back room with a radio headset and logbook which suddenly made him look like every other flight instructor ever minted. "Hey Uncle Johnny, how'd you do with reservations?"
"I got a room at the B&B, thanks for your help. Will you still be able to get me over there tonight?"
"Yeah, sure" said Tommy.
"Thanks. If I'm not here, I may still be in the tower, but I will be ready."
In walked Bruno. Speaking directly to Tommy, "Hey did you see the Chipmunk out there on the ramp? That thing's beautiful."
Uncle Johnny turned slowly in his seat and faced Bruno, "She's even more beautiful inside. Have yourself a nice lesson."
Uncle Johnny shuffled over to the couch and grabbed a flying magazine. He started to read it, then watched Tommy and Bruno taxi out to the active runway in Cessna 46897.
It was dark before he finished the magazine. Out on the ramp, he opened the Chipmunk, got out his tools and climbed down to head for the tower. He noticed he wasn't alone. There she was. Again.
She was standing at the front of the plane, like a statue. She pulled this all the time. She just showed up out of the blue with no warning. She never scared Uncle Johnny, but she was always a surprise.
"Hello, Annie. Look I'd love to talk, but I'm in a rush."
"Hello Uncle Johnny. First of all, you're not in a rush. And second, our talks never take any time. At all."
She was right.
"Alright. What do you want to talk about?"
"You're behavior. You're not getting better. You don't seem to be learning anything or even trying to. There's been no improvement since we last spoke."
"I might have done something good. You never know."
"You didn't. I know."
"You know, you could help out a little. This popping up out of the blue just isn't working. Given some time I might be able to come up with a moral or two. Maybe a two minute warning that you're showing up or something. Then I could do a little good deed or some nonsense."
"See part of the problem is your attitude. And you really annoy the people you meet. They find you offensive."
"Like who? Seriously, who finds me offensive?"
"For instance, the last two people with whom you spoke."
"The last two people I spoke with were...um... in the FBO. Do you mean those two little jerks?"
"Yes those two people. You were rude and inconsiderate."
"Not to the young one. I even think I said thank you to him. That's a good deal or something."
"Please, that was after he said he would do something for you."
"Still, that's gotta go in the good thing column."
"Doesn't work like that. There are no columns. As for the other man..."
"Oh, Mr. I'm proud of Morristown and George Washington? Imagine being proud of a town? Anyway, who cares about that fat bastard?"
Annie's eyes widened. There was a brief silence. Annie proceeded slowly "He's one of God's creations."
Her slow speech was ominous. It made Uncle Johnny think. Did he say something wrong? Maybe tick her off? He realized he better tread carefully with Annie because she could pull the plug on his access to the planes. He decided he would be careful how he spoke in front of her and try like hell to do like nice things here and there. He would start by listening to what she had to say and not commenting on the quality of that particular "God's creation".
Annie went on about treating others like they want, or something like that, and Uncle Johnny even listened to some of it. He was sort of proud of the show he was making by paying attention and agreeing and all of that. In the interest of the planes, he was committed to doing or saying something nice.
"You know Annie, you're right." Annie was of course a little skeptical.
"But you should consider columns to keep track of all my goodness. By the way I was nice to Bill Baxter."
"He's your friend..."
"Aces high. Two points in the good column for a friend."
Annie shook her head. "Go work on the beacon."
As Uncle Johnny walked to the tower, he saw the light of a small single engine enter the airport traffic pattern and do a touch and go. He decided to nip along smartly. He quickly counted the rotations of the beacon. Perfect. That's out of the way.
He made his way up and into the tower. There were two guys up there and both were quite busy with something. I don't care what they were doing and I'm sure you don't either.
"Hello. I'm Uncle Johnny. I'm here to work on the beacon."
"Okay, we heard you were coming. Let us know what we can help you with."
"Hmm. These two guys are nice." thought Uncle Johnny. "Will there be a problem turning off the beacon with a plane in the pattern?"
"No. That's Tommy up there with a student. They'll be just fine. Let us know when you want it off."
It was beginning to dawn on Uncle Johnny that it was not easy being nice to people nice to you. And without triggering a gag reflex.
"Alright, just tell me how to get up to the beacon and I'll get right to it."
"Right above you is the handle for the ceiling ladder. I'll call out the advisory." And without a skip "Notice to all aircraft approaching and departing Morristown airspace, the Morristown beacon will be off in two minutes and remain off for maintenance until further notice. You got that Tommy?"
"Eight niner seven" came Tommy's voice. "Say hi to Uncle Johnny you guys."
Dutifully and in chorus the two controllers complied. "Hi Uncle Johnny"
Uncle Johnny was stunned but still managed a very clever "Hi...you guys."
"Wow, everyone is so stinkin nice around here." thought Uncle Johnny.
He changed the bulb and cleaned up the area with no problems. As usual he remained with his head in the beacon. He watched 897 do their touch and goes and occasionally rattled his tools to sound busy. When he saw 897 exit the active runway and taxi towards the FBO, he declared his task completed.
"All aircraft in the Morristown vicinity be advised the Morristown beacon is now operating."
Uncle Johnny got his flight bag out of the Chipmunk and walked into the FBO as the lights went out.
"Perfect timing. You ready to go Uncle Johnny?" asked Tommy. Bruno was no where in sight. No loss.
On the trip out to the bed and breakfast, Tommy and Uncle Johnny discussed night flying.
"I like it." said Uncle Johnny. "There's usually less traffic and you pretty much have the sky to yourself."
"Yes, but there are also less visual cues obviously. Depth perception is questionable. Clouds can pose serious threats." warned Tommy, as flight instructors do. They always feel obliged to give warnings.
"True. Less to look at. Less traffic."
"Yeah less to see and less to hear. All alone. When you land, there's often no one at the airport."
"I love it."
"Me too." agreed Tommy.
"And what's prettier than an airport at night?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"I dunno, what?"
"Me neither."
"Hey look." said Tommy. "There it is." A road sign declaring Washington's Bedquarters was illuminated in front of an old farm house.
"Alright. I'll pick you up at 8:30. My first student is 9am. Okay?"
"Great. And thanks a lot Tommy." Off drove Tommy.
Uncle Johnny walked up the stairs and onto the porch which was well lit and festooned with antiques. Some old chairs and barrels and the likes.
Uncle Johnny was just about to ring the bell when the door opened, "Hi, I'm Ellen. And you're Uncle Johnny?"
"Yes, nice to meet you."
"Welcome to Washinton's Bedquarters."
Somehow that name still bothered Uncle Johnny. Inside, the walls were covered with portraits of Washington. Some standing alone. Some standing in a crowd. One unfinished. A few on horseback. Some showed a resemblance to one another. If George were wanted by the FBI today, this place would nail him.
"Your room is up on the third floor. Lucky you travel lightly."
"That's right. I got the old Brigadoon's room."
"He is a brigadeer. A brigadeer general in this year's Continental army. Very Important."
"I'd rather be a major domo in Klopstockia."
"A what. Anyway after you sign in, you can put your things in your room. You are alone, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, you will have plenty of room up there. On the right here is the living room. Guests can read or watch television if they keep our other guests comfort in mind." And so on went the rest of the tour.
"Okay here is our register. As you can see, it's barely used since we just opened. Please put in your name, address and so forth. Then we'll get you settled in."
Uncle Johnny filled in the info completely and put the pen down. Ellen quickly glanced at it and then took a double take.
"Thank you for filling this out. Can I just ask why you chose to print instead of using cursive writing?"
"You mean script? I don't know. Does anybody use script anymore?"
"They should! Cursive handwriting stimulates brain synapses and synchronicity between the left and right hemispheres. Printing comes up short there."
"Yeah, but when you fill out forms, they always say print clearly. Maybe script is dying."
"Cursive writing expands creativity. Cursive writing is all throughout our historical documents. We don't want to have to have translators for those things some day. If John Hancock printed his name, no one would've  remembered him."
"You know, I think you're right. I can't think of anything else ole Hancock did."
"Did you know that students who used cursive writing on their SATs actually scored higher than those who printed? And another thing..."
"About cursive writing?"
"Yes. Cursive is also faster. And it's more likely to engage students by providing a better sense of personal style and ownership."
"I feel that goes without saying." agreed Uncle Johnny who was more interested in the part about cursive being faster. "Maybe if speech was cursive I could get to bed tonight." he thought.
"Well, I'm glad we cleared that all up. Any questions?"
"Do you have waffles for breakfast?"
"Oh we have a lot of fresh fruit. Oatmeal. Juices. We're very healthy here. You know, clear body, clear mind. Waffles don't really fit into our philosophy. You know, carbs and all."
Uncle Johnny was beginning to suspect why the brigadier cancelled out.
"I'm a carbophile, myself. And waffles are the perfect mixture of grains, proteins and the imitation fruit of the maple tree."
"I'm sorry, no waffles. But we do have cantaloupe. If sliced thin enough, that could be like a waffle."
"Sure." said Uncle Johnny trying to think if he passed a waffle place on the way to this health haven.
"Here comes my husband Vincent. He'll show you your room."
"Hey Bub, nice to meet you. If this is all the luggage you have, then let's go." On the second floor, the hallway was decked with sketches of Continental soldiers, cannon and a sprinkling of what was probably the remainder of the place's Georges.
"Okay, you're up here." Vincent led the way up another stairway that had a door at the top. There were only a few Georgies on the way up. Vincent went in and turned on the light. On the far wall, facing the doorway was a huge portrait of Washington over a mantle-like shelf that had little brass canon on it. His commanding presence was a bit much.
"How do you like him? We call him "Big George."
"Where did you get him?"
"I don't know where she got it, but we saved it for this room."
"If old George ever did stay here, he wouldn't need a mirror."
The room was a little dark, but big enough with a big bed, an old desk, brass cannon on shelves and some other Continental crap.
"And this was where the general was going to stay?"
"Yeah, but he backed out at the last minute. Don't know why."
"Maybe he heard there were no waffles."
Vincent laughed, "Yeah maybe. Ellen is big on eating healthy. Health food is an important source of conversation, you know."
"Huh?"
"Some people love to talk about healthy food while wishing they had an éclair, napoleon or cream puff. Put out something good like that and it magically disappears every time."
Uncle Johnny laughed. "Yeah and boneyards are filling up with granola gulpers every day."
"Alright. That's it. Ellen and I will be around if you need us. And you know where everything is, right?" as he left.
"Yeah, no problem. Good night."
Uncle Johnny looked around the room. He thought it was sad. Maybe a little misdirected. It might have been interesting if anybody actually liked this stuff. But who would? Even the books on the shelves. There couldn't be a small airplane somewhere? Maybe an airplane book? Even just a propeller to spruce the place up? That's what Uncle Johnny would do if he were pilot in command here. It wouldn't really change the theme or motif or whatever was going on here. It would just add to it. And he would never, ever think of putting a big black mustache on "Big George". It wouldn't even cross his mind.
Uncle Johnny realized a mistake. He didn't see an alarm clock and needed to be woken up. Down he went.
He saw Ellen in the living room straightening up some magazines about who cared what.
"Hi Ellen. Can I get a wake up call tomorrow? Around seven thirty?"
"Sure. I forgot we still don't have a clock in that room. Sorry. Vincent will wake you up at seven thirty. Don't worry. So big day tomorrow?"
"No I just have to be ready for my ride to the airport."
"What do you do for a living, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I check on airport beacons. I make sure they're in fine working order and fix whatever they need. It's work the FAA needs done."
"Ooh. Sounds very important. And that's where you were tonight. So you're all finished here and tomorrow you're going home?"
"No tomorrow I'm off to another airport. Same thing."
"Oh, what airport?"
"I um, won't find out until I'm at the airport."
"Wow that's got to be a little tough. But at least you get to go to a lot of places and see cool things."
"Yes, I do."
"Oh, that's exciting." She was thinking about bed and breakfasts. He was thinking about airports.
"So when do you go home? And let's sit down." They sat.
"I don't know when I will go home. That's up in the air."
"Oh my. That's got to be hard. Are you married?"
"No."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
"Is there any woman in your life?"
"No." He must have been tired, because he thought of Annie and then proceeded, "Well, actually there sort of is a woman in my life.
Ellen's eyes widened. "Oh, see. Now this is interesting." Uncle Johnny wasn't sure if she wasn't just rubbing her hands together.
"And...so... what's she like?"
"Well, she's like an angel."
"Wow. And is she pretty?"
"Oh yeah. Very."
"How did you two meet?"
"She schedules my appointments and arranges for my transportation between the airports I service." Uncle Johnny was impressed with that sentence. I am too.
"Well she sounds wonderful. But it seems like you almost forgot her? Now, why is that?"
"Forget her? I can't forget her. She keeps popping up."
"Well, I think she likes you. How about that?"
"No. She just follows me around and wants to me be nice everyone, listen to what they say, pay attention, show interest and that sort of stuff."
"I think you two make a nice team. She sounds very nice. She has an interest in making you a better person."
"We're not a team. We..."
 "I think so." Ellen then made a face by closing her lips together tightly, squinting, and raising her eyebrows, all at the same time. Then she tilted her head slightly and hummed a double sound, "Umm...hmm." The effect was to make you want to agree with her.
 "What she's doing must be working. You seem nice to me and you've shown interest in our conversation. That sounds like a nice team to me. And you find her attractive. Sounds great."
"I don't find her attractive. I just said she's very pretty, that's all."
"Oh, I see." she didn't. She was confused by this guy.
Uncle Johnny was sorry he even brought Annie up. Why did he? It did remind him to be nice and all.
 "You, maybe, just want to keep it a business relationship for now? That can change down the road."
With barely a breath in between, "So. How do you like our Bed and breakfast? Our B&B? We just opened and we're trying to get feedback."
Uncle Johnny saw an opportunity to be nice and all that. "It's very nice. It looks like you worked very hard getting it together."
"Yes! We did."
"Well, you did a great job. The place looks great."
"Thanks, it's getting there."
The phrase "It's getting there" is a throw away phrase. It's similar to "It is what it is." Don't think too much about it when you hear it. People often use "It's getting there" even when they have completely finished working on their house, apartment, whatever and are happy, proud and very pleased with the outcome. And have no intention of changing anything.
"I see. This place is getting there. Very nice. You know what it could use? To bring a little life to it? Airplanes."
"What? Why would I put airplanes in here?"
"You know to spruce it up a bit. Make it a little snappier. You did a great job with all this old... um...stuff, but it gets a bit repetitive, don't you think? Georges here, canons there. You turn around you have canons here, Georges there. Yeah a few airplanes would spice it up nicely. Now you don't have to do much. And if you still like old things, try concentrating on biplanes, maybe."
"But the theme here is colonial. George Washington. The Revolutionary War. George Washington is very important around here. That's why we named it what we did. History is a very important part of this area and we are trying to match it."
"Okay. Sure. And a few planes here and there would be nice. You know, my friend lives in Oyster Bay and everyone there is nuts about Teddy Roosevelt. They know all about him, visit his house, all of that."
"Well, that sounds pretty cool."
"It does? Yeah, I guess it does. So maybe it's a similar thing. I don't get it. But you wanna know something cool about Teddy Roosevelt? He was the first president to fly in a plane."
"Good night."
Uncle Johnny was downstairs at eight o'clock, his flight bag in tow. He was looking at a platter of fruit, dominated by cantaloupe. Most of the platter was gone. Apparently the other guests were early risers.
"Good morning." said Ellen. "Here is fruit. I'll get some juice. Would you like an egg white omelet?"
"Some juice will be fine."
"The other guests were in a rush..."
"There were other guests here?"
"Sure, most of them are out already.This is a big weekend. Anyway they had a small accident and spilled the milk. Vincent will be right back with some."
"What's so big about this weekend?"
"It's the Revolutionary reenactment..."
"Oh yeah, that. That stuff won't affect traffic near the airport, will it?"
"There may be traffic going that way."
In walked Vincent. "I got the milk. I got these for you, Uncle Johnny." holding up a box of toaster waffles. "I know these aren't Belgian..."
"Awesome. Waffles. You have a toaster here, right?"
"Yes, we have a toaster here." said Ellen shaking her head. Vincent dropped two in and Uncle Johnny said thanks and watched the toaster do it's magic.
Uncle Johnny had them buttered and covered with some syrup from the tiniest syrup bottle he'd ever seen. He was halfway through his waffles when he heard Tommy's car outside. He looked at the clock and saw 8:30.
"Darn. Everytime."
"I think your ride's here, Uncle Johnny."
"Yeah, that's him. Do you have a napkin?" asked Uncle Johnny. Vincent passed him one.
Smooth as ever, he slipped the remaining waffle off his plate and onto the napkin. In a fluid motion, it was wrapped and in the flight bag.
"You really like waffles, huh?"
"Who doesn't? Thanks for everything Vincent. You have a wonderful place here. Good luck."
"Nice meeting you Uncle Johnny. And remember what we said about eating fruit and staying healthy." said Ellen.
"Okay, I will. And remember what we said about sprucing up the decorations. I better go before my ride beeps his horn and wakes the other guests.
As Uncle Johnny was going out the door Vincent and Ellen heard a guest coming down the stairs saying "Ooh, do I smell waffles?"
Ellen later went upstairs to straighten out Uncle Johnny's room and found a paper plane on the mantle underneath 'Big George'. Scrawled on both sides was NC1GW.
"Hi, Uncle Johnny." said Tommy.
Uncle Johnny plopped his flight bag on the floor of the car and hopped in.
"Good morning, Tommy. And thanks again for picking me up."
There was no traffic on the road and Tommy gunned it. Typical flight instructor. Conservative in the air, but all bets are off on the ground.
"How was that place last night?"
"A little odd at first. It's strange thinking there are other people in other rooms, you know, but you get over that. And the owners are very nice. With a little work on the decorations, that place will be okay."
"Do you smell maple syrup?" asked Tommy
"I think they're going to expand their breakfast buffet."
As they pulled into the parking lot of the FBO, Uncle Johnny looked out at the ramp. Tied down in the first spot was a yellow Murphy Renegade.
"Wow, a Murphy Renegade!" Uncle Johnny loved Murphy Renegades, but he never saw one in person. He just read a lot about them.
"Uh, yeah, that's what you flew in on yesterday." said Tommy, wondering a bit.
"Yeah. I knew that."
They got out of the car and went separate ways. Tommy went straight into the FBO.
Uncle Johnny couldn't keep his eyes off the Renegade. Straight to the ramp he went, admiring her every step of the way. The November number on the side was N04UJ. He patted her wing tip which he did to every plane type he'd never flown before.
 This plane has deceptive looks. It looks dainty, but it's a tiger. It is stressed to +10/-6, which means the plane can withstand ten positive gs and six negative gs. If you're a two hundred pound pilot in a ten g maneuver, you weigh two thousand pounds in your seat. If you do six negative gs, your shoulder straps better be prepared to hold at least twelve hundred pounds or you will be exiting the aircraft most unceremoniously.

Uncle Johnny looked in the front cockpit and saw a box that held a beacon bulb marked Danbury. He put his flight in and strapped them both in tightly. He put his chart and waffle under the seat in the rear cockpit.
He backed away from the plane and turned around. No sign of Annie. Good.
He walked around to the other side of the plane. No Annie. Great. He went into the FBO and got a weather briefing for a trip to Danbury. Light overcast all the way. Great. Uncle Johnny always preferred overcast skies for better visibility.
He said good bye to Tommy and went out to preflight the plane. As always, the plane was in perfect order. With each part of the preflight, he kept expecting Annie to pop up. Didn't happen. he hoped that was a good thing. Thinking of his last exchanges with people, he felt and hoped he acquitted himself quite well.
All strapped into the rear cockpit, engine running perfectly, he tuned in the tower frequency. Very quiet. No one in the pattern. He called in his request.
"Okay, Uniform Juliet taxi to runway one three and hold."
From his open cockpit, Uncle Johnny could clearly see someone in the tower and they him. They showed no interest in his aircraft. How odd.
As he approached the active runway, "Uniform Juliet, runway cleared for take off."
If Uncle Johnny didn't know better, he would think he was being rushed out.
Like, don't let it hit ya where the Good Lord split ya. "Alright no flyby, but don't hold your breath waiting to see another one of these babies, boys."
Four Uniform Juliet ran down the runway like a go cart and fairly leapt into the air. She wasn't fast but she felt like she was because of her smallness. Her climbing was not breathtaking, but fun.
Uncle Johnny stayed on the runway heading until he was over the reservoir and could pick out Rte 510. He followed it until he saw the Washington's Bedquarters.
"What the hell." he thought and dove for it. The plane handled beautifully. It was everything he read about. When over the oddly named inn, he pulled up hard and then went into a left turn and circled the inn twice. He knew the noise would get attention on the ground. Vincent popped out and waved. He probably knew it was Uncle Johnny.
Ellen didn't show. She was probably inside figuring out where best to put some planes.
Uncle Johnny was still low, as he banked hard to get out of the circle making business and headed over the JFK Parkway. He spotted what looked like two little boys and an adult pointing up. 'Finally, somebody in this area has an interest." He waved his wings, circled around and was setting up for a barrel roll, when the radio came to life. "Aircraft over Livingston. Experimental Murphy..."
"Yeah, now those nerds wanna talk." Uncle Johnny clicked off the radio and played deaf. To draw less attention, he leveled his wings, headed north and got out his chart.
"Wait. First things first." he said. He put the chart back under his seat and unwrapped the waffle.
"Mmmm."

Pitts S2B N02UJ

Uncle Johnny levelled off, reduced power and headed south. Once on course, he reached over the seat, into his flight bag and pulled out the napkin with his remaining waffle.
"Mmmm"
Uncle Johnny routinely scanned his instruments and mechanically looked up to scan the horizon. Looking south, where he was pointed, the sky was suddenly very dark. "Crap. When the hell did that happen?" to himself. He dialed up flight following and asked for a weather briefing. "There is an immediate change in the forecast. Weather suddenly deteriorating over Long Island."
Uncle Johnny asked about Farmingdale. "Farmingdale will probably close soon. Zero visibility. Never saw weather happen this fast."
"I have. On more than one occasion," to himself "And it's always at stinking  Farmingdale."
Flight following continued,"Weather to the East of your position is clear."
"I will amend my flight plan and redirect to Providence. I guess Providence is currently clear." asked Uncle Johnny.
"Providence reports winds calm and unlimited visibility. Proceed at your discretion. Good day Uniform Juliet."
To himself "How did I know? Always Farmingdale. Some day I'm going to rush into Farmingdale or just go into MacArthur and drive over to Farmingdale."
He resigned himself and aircraft to Providence. He banked hard left and dialed up the navigation frequencies for the trip to Providence. The hard bank was not necessary, but he really felt like it.
Besides, he didn't have any time for sightseeing. He had to go directly to the airport. The Pitts Special, the aircraft type he was in was not gifted with large fuel tanks. They had enough to get up, fly for a while and get back down. All the while the pilot has landing somewhere in his mind, or should.
"November Zero Two Uniform Juliet cleared to land Providence Runway 5." came the transmission from the tower.
"Hey a woman in the tower." he thought to himself. The only other woman Uncle Johnny dealt with was a well known, less than pleasant number in the tower at MacArthur airport. "Well, she sounds nicer than that beast in MacArthur."
 "Uniform Juliet, turn left off the active runway at first intersection."
Uncle Johnny heard the transmission and knew what he had to do...and what he wanted to do. They were close enough.
"Providence Tower, Zero Two Uniform Juliet requests landing long on runway 5 and exiting on second intersection for Wallace Air." Replied Uncle Johnny.
He wanted to land long on the runway to reduce the amount of taxiing he would have to do to get to the ramp. Taxiing in a Pitts Special requires making S-turns along the taxi way because there is no forward visibility while on the ground. Taxiing while making these turns lets you see ahead with each swing back and forth.

 

            

 One thing you may notice when sitting in the cockpit of a single engine prop plane is that forward visibility is often not all that great. To get the feel of it, take an empty coffee mug and  make like you're drinking the last drop from it. The top part should be resting on the bridge of your nose. This is often the view in tricycle gear or nose wheel planes, which are planes with the third wheel under the nose. The two wheels that are under the wings of the planes are called the main gear or mains.
 Planes like the Pitts Special and many older classic planes are called tail wheel planes because they have their third wheel at the back of the plane, instead of under the nose. While on the ground, whether tied down or taxiing,  the view is even more obscured because the nose is pointed up in the air.
If you still have the coffee mug on your face, leave it there and lean back in your chair. Try having a conversation with someone on the other side of the table. It's difficult because you can't see them past the mug. And you're probably mumbling in the mug anyway. If you want more coffee mug flying instructions let me know, but for now, put the mug down and back to this important story.
"Uniform Juliet landing long approved... after a flyby over the active."
"Uniform Juliet, on the flyby." Uncle Johnny was not surprised at that flyby request. Everyone stops to look at a Pitts. This plane was the belle of the ball as usual. But, somehow that didn't sound like much of a request. Maybe this one in the tower was a little more like the beast in the MacArthur tower.
Uncle Johnny lined up with Runway 5, lowered the nose, dove to 100 feet a.g.l. or above ground level and covered the length of the runway in seconds. When over the end of the runway, he pulled back and roared up to pattern altitude while making a gradual left turn. This move would be a little aggressive in a lesser plane, but not so in the Pitts. He roared downwind, reduced power, turned base and final over the end of the runway then fully cut the power. With the nose pointed down, he dropped like a brick then flared the approach. At a comfortable height over the runway he pulled back again and settled her onto the runway. You can't let a Pitts settle herself onto the runway. They behave badly near the ground.
The end result of this approach was that Uncle Johnny landed long on the runway as he wanted. He  touched down past bravo taxiway with only alpha taxiway left.
"Uniform Juliet taxi clear of the active, make a left on alpha taxi and taxi to Wallace Air."
"Uniform Juliet taxiing."
At the ramp, Uncle Johnny found the first tie down open and taxied in. He also found everyone on or near the ramp looking his way. Looking the Pitts's way the be more accurate. Half were jealous. The other half knew better than to trifle with a Pitts.
Uncle Johnny climbed out and tied her down unaided. Everyone was willing to look, but noone wanted to get too close to the Pitts. Although she was beautiful and diminutive, she was a little threatening sitting among a field of Pipers and Cessnas. She was loud, pointy, barbed, brash and a little exotic. He knew they would gather around her as he went into the FBO.
Inside the FBO he saw a young lady put down a phone and head towards a back room.
"Hi, I'm Uncle Johnny and I'm..."
"Okay, the gas truck is on the way to the Pitts. You will fill it up yourself, not the lineman, right?"
"Yeah, I always..." started Uncle Johnny.
"Great." said the young lady making barely any eye contact. "Hey Andy" she called into the back. "Ring this guy up for the gas and overnight tie down, I gotta go in the back." She stopped and looked at Uncle Johnny. "You'll be here overnight, right? You're going to work on the tower beacon."
"Yes and then..." started Uncle Johnny.
"Okay, great." and with that she disappeared into the back.
Uncle Johnny decided she was nice. Terse, but nice. Mostly because she didn't make any comments about changing light bulbs.
After Uncle Johnny signed the papers where Andy told him to, he went out to the plane. He took the nozzle from the gas truck driver, aka lineman, and pumped just enough to fill the tank. As always, he pumped the gas through a clear hose so there wasn't any chance of scratching the plane. A Pitts is worth the trouble. He handed the pump back to the lineman.
"Thanks. Um, how do you get out to the tower? I have to get out there tonight. It's so far from here." They both looked across the airport at the tower. It was free standing on the field.
"I can drop you off out there around seven thirty, but I have to be back there about 8 tonight. So you have more than enough time to wrap it up by then. You'll get a round trip in Gromit here." he said pointing to the truck. "A lot of things get names here at Wallace Air, even this old dog truck."
"Alright, thanks." said Uncle Johnny. "It's going to be dark by about 730, so I'll be ready to go around a quarter after. It shouldn't take me more than twenty or twenty five minutes in the tower, if all goes well."
"Fine, but remember eight o'clock. Wait, aren't you the guy who is going to change the lightbulb? How long could that take?"
"Dammit, there's always one...or more" thought Uncle Johnny. Looking directly at the lineman, "Changing a light bulb doesn't take long. But there is a whole lot more to what gets done. What, you thought it took only a minute? Huh?"
"Well, I thought... "
"Yeah a lot of people think that. Anyway, you know a place I can stay around here tonight?"
"Not exactly right around here. There's a convention at New England Tech down the road and all the close places are booked. The ramp is even crowded with the planes of the visitors who flew in. It's amazing you got a spot on the ramp, but especially the first tie down."
"I'm used to that." replied Uncle Johnny matter-of-factly.
"Really? Anyway, you'll probably have to go out to the Residence Inn about fifteen minutes from here, you better look into reservations soon."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"I live around here."
"Oh yeah. Any taxis around here?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"Yeah, but if you leave after eight or so, Andy could take you. He lives right near it."
"Alright, I'll see you and Gromit around a quarter after seven."
 In the FBO, Uncle Johnny asked Andy for a phone. "I need to make reservations, I'll probably stay at the Residence Inn."
"Residence Inn? I live right near it. If you're around here when I leave, I'll give you a ride. I'll be leaving here around eight. No guarantees."
"What a nice guy. I'll bet he's a great neighbor." thought Uncle Johnny.
Uncle Johnny called and made reservations at the hotel. He had about an hour to kill before he had to get to the tower. He knew what to do.
Every FBO has something that looks like a couch with a table nearby. One if not both are usually strewn with some sort of airplane related magazines. Uncle Johnny went out to the plane and got his tool bag and the bulb for the airport beacon. Then he made his way straight to the FBO couch.
Around seven thirty Andy walked in. "Hey Stephen's waiting outside for you."
"Who's Stephen?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"The lineman. You know, the gas guy. He says he's taking you out to the tower." said Andy.
"Oh yeah. With Gromit."
"Well, at least you knew the name of his truck. Remember, eight o'clock back here if you want a ride."
The motor of the gas truck was running and Uncle Johnny jumped in with his tools.
"Seat belt on, cowboy." said Stephen as he threw the truck into gear and gassed it for all the truck was worth. There was no air traffic in the pattern or on approach to the airport, or any planes taxiing so the truck could make good time down the taxiways and across the runways, but it still seemed a little too fast for Uncle Johnny. Especially in this old rattle trap.
"We in a rush?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"No, I'm in a rush. I have less than half an hour to drop you off at the tower, fill up Gromit for tomorrow and get back to the tower. By eight."
"What's with eight o'clock? Gromit going to turn into a pumpkin?"
"No, I have to pick up Beans at eight. That's when she closes the tower and gets out. Then get straight back to the FBO immediately."
"She? What does she do there?"
"She operates the tower."
"Oh that's the one I heard today."
"That's right. She landed you. The tower's hers until eight. Then Pup wants everyone at Wallace Air off the field as close to eight as possible."
"Who's Pup? A person, right? Not a truck or something."
"You probably met Pup at Wallace Air today. Anyway, you're about to meet Beans. Between her and Pup, she's the nicer of the two, or at least the easier one to get along with." With that, Stephen went heavy on the breaks bringing Gromit to a very firm halt in front of the tower. "Out you go cowboy. Be ready to leave with Beans. Later." Uncle Johnny stepped out. Stephen threw the truck into gear and the acceleration closed the door.
As Uncle Johnny got closer to the tower, he could hear repeated buzzing noises. The buzzes were coming from the tower door which opened easily when Uncle Johnny pulled on it. "That's odd." said Uncle Johnny.
"It's not odd." came through a speaker next to the door, stinging Uncle Johnny's ears. "I unlocked it while waiting for you. Now come on up."
"Hmm" he thought, very much to himself. "The beast in MacArthur may have competition."
Uncle Johnny vertically zigzagged his way up to the top of the tower, in no particular rush. He found the door at the top of the stairs open. He walked in and saw a young lady looking down at a screen with her back to him.
"Hello, I'm Uncle Johnny and I'm here..."
"Yeah, to swap out the bulb. And I'm Beans." said the young lady without looking up from the screen.
"Does anyone let you finish a sentence around here?" wondered Uncle Johnny. "So you're Beans and you run this tower?"
"Yeah that's right. Just me. Some pilots are surprised to hear a female in the tower."
"Really? Hmm. Some guys."
"Anyway, beautiful Pitts. Love the classic paint scheme." said Beans still looking at the screen.
"You don't see many of them up here do you?" semi-bragged Uncle Johnny.
"That's the first S-2B. Last year we had a S-1B fly in from Nashua."
"Wow, you know the models. You really know planes."
"That's right Genius. I know planes." she looked up from the screen and raised her hands and said "My office is an airport. I sometimes see planes."
"So I guess this is your airport."
"I let you in didn't I?"
"Yeah, well you have to..."
"My airport, my rules. You do know what hold short means, right? We'll see tomorrow when you leave."
She looked back down at the screen, "You'll find a ladder in the closet for you to get at the bulb, Johnny." she continued.
"It's Uncle Johnny, Beans."
"Okay, it's Miss Beans, Ung-cle Johnny. And the ladder is still in the closet."
Uncle Johnny went over to the closet thinking "Wow, this one's something. I can't believe the lineman said she's easier to get along with than someone else. That Pup guy must be a monster."
In the closet, behind some old jackets, Uncle Johnny found an old wooden ladder with paint splatters on it. It was the only one in there, so out it came. It rattled as he opened it. "All set here. You can turn the beacon off when you..."
Without hesitation Beans was on the mike "Notice to all aircraft approaching and departing Providence airspace, the Providence beacon will be off in two minutes and remain off for maintenance until further notice."
"Okay, where does..."
"Right over there in the middle of the room. See the handle on the ceiling? Just pull it down and up you go." said Beans.
"What do I need the ladder for? This is a ceiling ladder."
"It was. Pull down the handle, you'll see it's just a ceiling. The ladder part is gone."
He did. And it was. "What happened to the ladder?"
"A fat bulb changer."
"Really?!!"
"How do I know? What do I look like, a historian? You can look it up when we get out of here, which better be by..."
"Eight o'clock, I know, I know."
"If you're not ready when Stephen gets here with Gromit, you'll be driving your Hushpuppies back to the FBO."
Uncle Johnny reached into his tool bag doing his tool arrangement act, waiting to hear those anticipated words.
"Okay, beacon's off. Work your magic."
He grabbed his tools and the replacement bulb and went up the ladder. "Ouch."
"What happened?"
"I banged my head. There's no room up here. I can't fit up in here."
"Fit up there? What, are you looking for, a winter home? It's a tower beacon, not a town house. Old bulb out, new bulb in. No season renters. Let's go."
This one never quits. "You know, there's a lot to what gets done here."
"Oh yeah? Which are you better at, clockwise or counterclockwise?"
Uncle Johnny decided silence was the best conversation with this one.
This time he slowly stuck his head into the glass dome that contained the beacon. There was no room for anything. He was standing on the third rung from the top of the ladder. His tool bag was balanced on top of the ladder. He was glad it was dark. No one could see his head in the dome.  It smelled like old oil and was still a little hot. First out was the WD-40. "Love that smell."
"What was that?"
"Nothing." he forgot he was not alone.
Next out was the Windex. He wiped down the inside of the dome waiting for the bulb to cool down. He admired the cleanliness of the dome. He saw the stars looking back at him, the Providence skyline, the white lights of the active runway and the blue lights of the taxiways. And two headlights madly tearing down the taxiway toward the tower. He looked at his watch. "Ten to eight. Crap, that means it's Gromit and Stephen."
"Let's move it along, up there. Our ride is here and I'm not leaving here with the beacon off." called Beans.
"Yeah, yeah, I see him." The bulb was cool by now. "Gimme a minute. The bulb is still hot."
"Yeah, well Pup will be red hot if we're back late. Finish it up now or join the Providence hiking club."
Uncle Johnny quickly got the old bulb out and balanced it on his tool bag to save the trip down the ladder.  He carefully unwrapped the new bulb and screwed it in. He thought he was ready to go when he saw his Windex  in the dome, looking at him.
He quickly grabbed it and knocked the old bulb off the tool bag. It fell to the floor and the pop of the bulb, of course, seemed louder in the quiet tower.
"Sorry Ms. Beans. You okay down there?"
"Sure. I'm great. What are you gonna do next, throw your tools at me?"
He got all of his tools back in the bag and checked the dome one last time. All was good. Down the ladder he went and found Beans had turned off all of the display screens and started to sweep up the bulb glass. 'Thanks, you didn't have to do that."
"I know." she said and handed hin the dust pan and brush. "But you better be done before Stephen gets out of the truck. He won't be happy and he will tell Pup you slowed me down." She threw a switch on the wall and moved to the mike. "All aircraft in the Providence vicinity be advised the Providence beacon is now operating and the tower will be closed until tomorrow."
"Do you work for Pup or something?"
"I work in a control tower. I work for the FAA, you know, the FAA?"
"Then why..."
"Pup does me a favor, making sure I have a ride out and back here. It's a favor."
Beans and Uncle Johnny got out of the tower and almost bumped into the truck. It was practically parked against the tower parked andStephen was just getting out. "Hey what took you guys? We may be late getting in. Anyway, get in."
"Why didn't you just drive into the tower, big fella?" said Beans as she climbed in next to Stephen.  Uncle Johnny sat next to her. He got help closing the door from the acceleration.
Uncle Johnny remembered he hadn't checked the rotation speed of the beacon when he was working on it. He never saw a problem with rotation of beacons before, but he always checked. As Gromit hurried the three back to the FBO, Uncle Johnny was not listening to the conversation of the other two. He was looking at his watch counting the rotations per minute. Actually, he just counted for half a minute and doubled it. Once again, the rotation speed was right on.
"Thank goodness" he thought. He didn't know what he would have done otherwise.
"You're quiet, Uncle Johnny." said Stephen. "Tired or something?"
He tried to think of a comeback, but he knew they always show up ten minutes late.
Beans chimed in "He's looking at his watch. He's probably checking the speed of the beacon. Am I right?"
"How does she know all of this stuff?" he wondered. "No. I'm just trying to figure out what time I will get to the hotel?" Lame comeback, but he thought that would give him a break.
"You know, you could skip your hotel and take off right now. The tower is closed, but you can still get out."
Gromit came to an ungraceful halt in front of the FBO. Conversation ended and Uncle Johnny was glad. He was afraid she would ask where he was headed next. He didn't know. He never did.
 Andy was waiting outside. "Hey, nice of you guys to show up."  he said with a smile. He smiled alot.
"Where's Pup?" asked Stephen.
"Office of course. She'll be out in a few minutes. I'm outta here. Uncle Johnny, still want that ride to the hotel?"
"Sure, let's go."
On the ride to the hotel, Andy gave Uncle Johnny a brief history of Providence. "Now where are you from?"
"Long Island. I last flew out of Farmingdale."
"Ever fly out of MacArthur? You know Beans has a good friend in the MacArthur tower."
"Lemme guess, A woman."
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Just a guess. Hey do you know where to get breakfast near the hotel?"
"The hotel has complimentary breakfasts for guests." said Andy.
"Do you think they might have waffles? Huh?" asked Uncle Johnny. This was the first time Andy heard him even a little excited.
"I guess. I never stay there. I practically live next door." They drove on in silence, one thinking about what to do tomorrow morning, the other thinking about what to eat tomorrow morning.
The car pulled into the hotel property. "Thanks for the ride Andy."
"Yeah, no problem, Uncle Johnny. Pick you here at seven thirty. Have a good night."
"You too." he said as he closed the car door in a traditional fashion.
Andy hadn't driven more than fifty feet when he hit the brakes and called to Uncle Johnny through the car window "By the way, it may not be me picking you up tomorrow morning, so keep your eyes open for Abigail."
"Who's that?" called uncle Johnny.
"That's right." yelled Andy. "Good night." Andy's hearing wasn't perfect after being in the Army. That's all I know. That's all you need to know.
Uncle Johnny found all he needed the next morning. The complimentary buffet. An open table. Waffles.
 As always he saved his favorite part for last. He was halfway through his waffles when he saw Beans and the young lady in the FBO walk into the restaurant. "What are they doing here?" They walked straight to his table.
"Good morning" he said to the young FBO lady. "Hello Ms. Beans."
The other girls eyes widened as she turned to Beans. "Ms. Beans?"
"That's right." said Beans.
"How did that happen?" she asked and giggled.
"I'm very formal, sometimes." said Beans.
Feeling quite ignored, "What are two doing here?" asked Uncle Johnny.
"Where here to pick you up." said Beans. "Andy couldn't make it today. He's having a wagon wheel removed from his house. Long story and we're in a rush, now let's go big fella."
"Yeah, he did mention, last night, that he might be busy." Looking at the FBO girl, "Well, it's nice to meet you Abigail."
Beans laughed, "Abigail? What the...? Anyway let's go. I gotta get in the tower."
Inconspicuously, Uncle Johnny slid the last waffle off the plate onto a waiting napkin and folded the napkin around it. "Last night Andy said to look for Abigail if he couldn't make it." explained Uncle Johnny.
Looking at Beans, the FBO girl said "I'm Ms. Wallace." Beans giggled again.
"Okay" said Uncle Johnny, "And you work at the FBO."
"That's right. Wallace Air. My friends call me Pup Wallace. You can call me Ms. Wallace. And, I own Wallace Air. This is my sister, Beans Wallace." Beans grinned.
As per habit, he dropped the warm waffle parcel into the side pocket of his flight bag.
"Smooth move Exlax." said Pup. "Throwing waffles into a flight bag?" Beans laughed.
Pup continued "Why don't you pour some milk in your pants pockets?" Beans howled and high fived Pup.
"Let's get outta here, before someone sees us with him. We might get recognized." said Pup. "And who knows what he'll do next."
"Holy crap. She is tougher than Beans." Thought Uncle Johnny.
"Yeah, Abigail is out in the parking lot waiting for us," said Beans.
"Damn, I hope it's not another Wallace sister." to himself.
In the parking lot, they stopped at a nice little station wagon.
"This is Abigail." said Beans.
"A car? Abigail is a car?" said Uncle Johnny.
"Observant. Now hop in." said Beans. Pup smiled.
Uncle Johnny was glad Abigail wasn't a third sister. "I'll get in the back seat."
"Yeah, you will." affirmed Pup.
For the sake of his nerves, Uncle Johnny tuned out the two in the front seat for the ride to the airport. He wasn't sure if he was interested in what they were talking about, but he was very sure he'd had enough of them for the morning. He was just dazing out the windows as they were pulling into the FBO parking lot. In the corner of his eye he saw a shrunken head swinging in the back of the car.
"What is that?"
"A Chippie!" chimed Beans. "The plane I landed you in yesterday."
"Huh?"
"The de Havilland Chipmunk you flew in on. The Chippie." said Beans.
Uncle Johnny looked out at the ramp in front of the FBO.  Parked in the first tie down on the ramp was a de Havilland Chipmunk. One of his all time favorites.  The November number was November zero three Uniform Juliet. "Wow, she's beautiful."
"You're just noticing now?" said Beans. "I noticed that Chippie was a beaut yesterday, as she was landing."
Uncle Johnny didn't mind nicknames for some planes. He even accepted nicknames for some of the classics. But this was a de Havilland Chipmunk. He heard the name Chippie before, but never cared for it. This airframe deserved better.
"I know how beautiful she is and she is a Chipmunk. Not a Chippie." he said trying not to over correct as he exited the car.
" He's careful about names? This is coming from a guy who's related to no one and calls himself Uncle Johnny." said Pup. Beans approved with a smile.
Uncle Johnny stepped back from the car. "Yeah? Of the three of you, the only one with a girls name is the car." Surprisingly both Beans and Pup approved with a smile. But not to Uncle Johnny.
Beans asked, "Where'd you get that beauty anyway? They're kinda rare."
"Well that's a long story." said Uncle Johnny.
"Don't have time." Beans declared, "I see Gromit's on the ramp and that's my ride to the tower." Off she went in a hurry.
 Pup was gathering some paperwork from the car.  She headed for the FBO.
Uncle Johnny couldn't keep his eyes off the Chipmunk. Straight to the ramp he went, admiring her every step of the way. He patted her wing tip which he did to every plane type he'd never flown before.

 

The canopy opened easily and he found a box that contained a bulb. Morristown, NJ was on the label. "All right, Morristown, New Jersey is cool." He put the bulb in the back seat with his flight bag and belted them both in. He pulled out his chart and waffle and put them in the front under the seat. Everything looked good. Now he just needed to get the weather forecast in the FBO.
 He carefully closed the canopy and saw a girl on the other side of the plane. She was very pretty but somehow not attractive. He had a bad feeling about this one. He never met her before, but he felt he somehow knew her.
"Hello" she said, "I see you're getting ready for your trip."
"Yeah, I'm busy." He hoped she would take a hint and hit the road, but he knew she was going nowhere. She sort of gave him the creeps. "You know, I'd love to talk, but I have to check weather forecasts and all, so..."
"You don't have to check the forecasts." she said as a matter of fact. "You can see the weather here is perfect, the weather in Morristown is perfect now and won't change. And the weather en route will be perfect."
Uncle Johnny was amazed. She didn't move an inch during her whole monologue. Maybe's she's growing roots.
"Well, I'm going to check just the same."
"Go ahead." she said "but we both know what I said is true. Whenever you're in these planes, the weather's perfect. Perfect on take off and perfect on landing. No crosswinds, gusts or wind shears. The weather en route always the same. Also, you really don't have to do the preflight inspections. These planes are always perfect."
Uncle Johnny had no idea how she knew so much about his business, but she did. He knew she was right and was listening with both ears now. As for not doing preflight inspections, that was damn near blasphemous. Besides, Uncle Johnny actually liked doing preflights.
 "Yeah, I did have good weather sometimes." he said trying to somehow hold his ground. "Actually, on the way here, I was looking at very foul weather, now that I think of it."
"Yes and every flight before that where you tried to go into Farmingdale. We have to talk about Farmingdale. You can't go into Farmingdale."
"But I want to show my friends..."
"They can't see you in these planes."
"Yeah but..."
"You can go into Farmingdale if you like, no weather will be stopping you in the future. But when you land, the plane will be gone and it's all over." she said. Again, pretty, but not attractive.
"So, no Waco?"
"No."
"No Bleriot, Spitfire or Thunderbolt?"
"No. And no Gee Bee Racer."
"Gee Bees? I didn't think that was even possible."
"Are you serious? You were recently in a Boeing 247 and..."
"Yes and what a great machine she was!"
"That's not my point. Why would you think a GeeBee is not possible when you just flew a Boeing 247? You didn't have a problem with flying a Boeing 247? You didn't think that was odd. There are no flying 247s around. Also, we both know you could not have possibly been instructed or checked out in one, and yet you flew it. Solo. No problems with that picture?"
"I found myself at the controls and in perfect harmony with the machines. So, back to the GeeBees. I can get a GeeBee racer next?"
"Ugh." she sighed barely audibly. "Not if you go into Farmingdale."
"The hell with Farmingdale then! Let's get to the GeeBee next."
"What about your friends in Farmingdale?"
"Who cares?" The thought of a GeeBee racer made him forget about friends and that stuff.
"You don't have many friends, do you?" she asked.
"I have enough and..."
"Another thing, nothing's coming out of all of this. You just piloting these planes and having fun. I arrange for these planes and everything and to what end?"
"Um, excuse me, are these planes yours?"
"Well, yes and no."
"Very cosmic. Great answer..."
"Never mind about that. Back to the question... what's coming out of all of this?"
"What are you looking for a moral or something? Let's get the GeeBees going."
"You can forget the Geebees and all of them if there's no lesson being learned..."
"Ah hah! I was right. You're looking for a moral. Nobody cares about morals and nobody notices morals."
"Morals are the points of stories. Of course they notice them. Take the Tortoise and the Hare. There is a moral because the hare won the race..."
"Yeah, I didn't finish it, but I heard that. Hey, you want a good book, read the Firm. I finished that."
"If you didn't get the moral of the tortoise, there was no sense in you reading it."
"Couldn't agree with you more. Try the Firm. It's a Grisham."
"Morals of stories are important. Lessons are important. They are the reasons for the stories in the first place. No moral, no story. I need a moral here or the story ends. People do notice morals in stories. Interestingly, one thing nobody notices is that there's a new plane for you every day. Parked in the same tie downs you left the previous plane in and still no one notices. You tied down a Pitts in the first tie down last night and found a Chipmunk tied down today and nobody noticed."
"I notice every time. You do a great job picking these planes out."
"I'm not talking about you. It's okay that the people you meet at the airports don't notice, that's by design. But the readers don't notice."
"The who? well, anyway, as for learning and morals, I can't be bothered. Just keep the planes coming. That's all I want."
"It's not what you want that matters. Another thing. You seem to annoy a lot of people. Yes, they find you annoying, even irritating. I would have to say I find you burdensome."
"What are you saying?"
"I just tell the truth. Only the truth."
"No, people like me."
"You argue with almost everyone. You turn them off and often insult them."
"Big fan of the truth are you? You don't have many friends either, I bet."
"In any event, if there's nothing learned, there's no reason to continue. It's over. And if you go into Farmingdale, same thing. It's over." Very sober, both.
Uncle Johnny started to think about his friends, few as they were. They had never seen a Chipmunk in person.
"Hey, what's your name?"
"I've been called Annie."
"Annie?"
"It's short for Antoinette. Yes, like the plane."
"Cool! And, uh very nice indeed. See, I said something nice. That's worth half a moral, right there."
No reply.
"I'm going to get the weather." he went to the FBO knowing he really didn't need it, but force of habit made him call up for the weather.
He started thinking about his family. They had never seen a Chipmunk either. He knew none of them really cared, but he was involved with some amazing, some never in a lifetime planes and they were missing it.
The FBO was empty as he entered. His head was spinning from that conversation, even after getting the weather briefing. The weather briefing called for perfect weather as previously discussed.
As he was walking out of the FBO, Stephen walked in.
"You're outta here cowboy?"
"Yeah, I'm off to Morristown."
"Well, nice meeting you."
"Yeah, it wasn't annoying or irritating, right?"
"Okay."
Uncle Johnny hoped that little interchange was overheard or noted somewhere. "That was positive feedback. That's worth, like half a moral. I'm on a roll. From Chipmunk to GeeBee."
After a thorough preflight inspection and admiration, Uncle Johnny was strapped into the Chipmunk and the motor was running. All was wonderful with the world.
While taxiing out to runway 23, the active runway, he was tuned into the tower frequency. Not one transmission over the radio. Noone was in the airport traffic pattern. Once again he had the airport to himself. Pulling up to runway 23 he called the tower. "Tower, November zero three Uniform Juliet ready for takeoff."
"Uniform Juliet, hold short of the active." It was Beans's voice clear as a bell.
"Oh no, it's her again."
 The hold short command is given when there is some kind of activity, current or expected, on the adjacent runway. Usually it would be another plane on final and just about to land. The 'hold short' keeps the second plane from going out onto the runway and meeting the incoming plane.
Uncle Johnny scanned the sky and saw no plane near the airport or in the sky, at all, for that matter. He heard no one on the radio with the tower either.
After a minute of waiting, he announced again,  "Tower, November zero three Uniform Juliet ready for takeoff."
"Uniform Juliet, hold short of the active." came Beans again.
"Is she kidding? There's no one out here. What is she doing her nails?"
After another minute with the engine running, "Tower, November Zero Three Uniform Juliet ready for takeoff." trying not to antagonize .
"Okay Uniform Juliet cleared for takeoff runway 23." called Beans.
"That was accommodating of her to squeeze me in between nothing and nobody." thought Uncle Johnny.
"Uniform Juliet, after takeoff execute a one eighty to set up for a flyby over the active."
"Man, this really is her airport." He really didn't mind the flyby request at all. He wanted to test the Chipmunks handling.
He climbed to pattern altitude starting with with relatively conservative turns, gradually increasing the banks. This plane could fly. It was no Pitts, but, but this Chippy handled beautifully. On downwind, he cut the power back and put her in a healthy, continuous diving left turn, with no corners. It was a very military-like approach which he knew he could pull off. He leveled out at one hundred feet above the active and at midfield executed a snaproll. Decidedly unconservative.
"What the..." from the tower.
Uncle Johnny pulled up and into a sharp left turn. Sharp turns are always a nice sight, showing off the top of the wing.



"Uniform Juliet, proceed south on course, good day." said Beans.
"Uniform Juliet." replied Uncle Johnny as he headed south over Narragansett Bay. Many people might have noticed the sights below, but Uncle Johnny  was quite happy being in the cockpit of a Chipmunk and the islands below were of no consequence.
Out over the Long Island Sound, Uncle Johnny picked up a westerly heading midway between Long Island and Connecticut. After a while he could see 737s descending which told him he was directly north of MacArthur. In ten minutes he would be directly north of Farmingdale. He thought again about his family and friends and wondered if he could somehow head south and sneak into Farmingdale unnoticed. He really wanted them to see this gem.
At the same time he knew he was getting close to NYC airspace and would have to make plans quickly. His only alternative was to head north and go around the city. This would be just fine because it was a nice flight and he would be into Morristown with more than enough gas reserved.
He had to think fast. Could he show off this plane to friends and family and not get caught? Or should he just head north around the city.
With minutes left he knew it was left to Farmingdale or right to go north of the city. What to do?
He knew what to do. He reached under his seat, pushed his chart out of the way and grabbed his waffle.
"Mmmm"

247 NC01UJ

"November Charlie zero one Uniform Juliet cleared for landing runway 28. Turn left off the active runway at your convenience. Welcome to the capital of the Empire State."
"Uniform Juliet landing runway 28." replied Uncle Johnny as he prepped for landing. He was used to wordier than average approaches and departures when he was flying such a magnificent plane. He quickly stashed his chart in his flight bag which always smelled a little like avgas and maple syrup.
He would be on the ground in no time as he habitually flew tight patterns. Uncle Johnny did not like long straight in approaches, not even in this big twin. He was a big fan of Short Finals. Who isn't?
Uncle Johnny brought the Boeing 247 around to final, reduced power and let her settle onto the runway.
"What a plane." he said aloud to noone in the cockpit. He knew all eyes would be on her as he taxied and parked. "They should be looking. I know I would." He admired the plane inside and out. "feast your eyes, groundlings."

 

 She was remarkable in her day. Metal construction. Autopilot. Retractible landing gear. But what really got him was the power. Here was the first plane that could fly and climb with one engine out. "Now this is a true twin. Two engines, each capable of flying the plane on its own," Without a doubt this was a great plane. That was his opinion.

He had an opinion on the planes handling, its systems and even its looks. All were great.

 Uncle Johnny had opinions on everything. He thought he was unopinionated, but he was wrong. He often wondered about people who claimed to have no opinion about something. Were they lying, confused or simple?

Take any person, place or thing in the world, you could even throw in a verb or adjective for that matter and mix that entity with any person in the world and there will be an opinion. Oh yes there will, whether they admit it or not.

Uncle Johnny wanted to get the plane squared away asap so he could get to his hotel. He knew he 'd have no problem with assistance on the ramp. He fully expected a small crowd standing by ready to gawk at this beautiful bird, so he gunned the engines just a little extra to call in any who missed his clearance on the radio. It worked. Heads turned, conversations stopped, doors opened and out they filed. A small band of moths gathered, following his flame to the first tie down on the ramp. All were present before the lineman showed up with the gas truck.
With all the plane's pumps, electrical and power shut off, the crowd moved in and had Uniform Juliet tied down before Uncle Johnny was out of the cockpit. "That worked well. Now to slide past these rubes and out of here." to himself as he locked the door.
There would be no sliding past anyone now. He fully expected a civilian grilling and was stopped cold with flight bag and suitcase in hand. He knew this was always the price for showing up anywhere with such a plane.
First to speak up was a round headed guy with long arms wearing an apron and a beret like lid. Out from under the beret exploded a white tuft of hair on each side. These tufts closed in on circular framed glasses. He looked like he was peaking through a snow storm. Odd look, but passable for Albany. Anything was passable for Albany. Besides, he just finished tying down the port wing.
"Excuse me sir. Where did you get this plane?"
"You can call me Uncle Johnny."
 "Okay, Uncle Johnny, where did you get this plane."
"This ship is a Boeing 247." Uncle Johnny had heard the question quite clearly. Corrective language always disguised a change of subject. "How do you like the sound of those Pratt and Whitneys?" "Great, but where.."
"Pratt and Whitney Wasps that is. And they're mounted on a 74 foot wingspan."
"Seventy four feet?" chimed in the tallest one there. This cat had on a red jacket with a red turtleneck thing on underneath it. "You kept a big wing like that in a tight pattern?"
"I don't believe in straight in approaches, especially at an airport with which I'm not familiar." He used his know-it-all voice on purpose and got a few nods of approval which he expected. "And a Short Final is always preferred."
Deep down he knew his tight pattern might have seemed a little questionable with a such a full figured plane, but he also knew he and she were up to it. Just one more time he wished he could have been on the outside to see that as well.
Next up was a skinny guy whose hat and head were as wide as the rest of his body. Everything on this guy was blue except for his red nose. "Hey mister, tight patterns a habit? You looked awful slow turning final." Uncle Johnny resisted asking Boy Blue when he didn't look slow. "No, my airspeed was right on the money."
"Oh yeah? It looked like your flare was going to keep you floating right on past the field."
"I was given the whole runway, so I landed long."
"Well, I don't know..."
"Know what else you don't know, I'll bet. Did you know a mouse can fit anywhere he can stick his head. He just has to stick his head into any crack and the rest of him can follow."
Boy Blue looked quite puzzled, like he was just asked to solve a trigonometry equation. "Why didn't you do a three point landing?" Ignored.
Up stepped the only halfway smart looking individual in the lot. Uncle Johnny wasn't expecting intelligence, he knew a dark sports jacket and gray pants could make anyone look that way. "Hi, I'm Eric Michaelson, I run the FBO here."
 An FBO, Fixed Base Operation, is a business on an airport where among other things you usually can find a place to tie down (park) a plane, mechanics, flying instructions and avgas or aviation gas. Also, at an FBO you can often find a bunch of blowhards willing to regale the unsuspecting victim with their fabulous personal histories, better known as pilots, and most guilty of all, the flight instructors. "We'll have her tanks topped off and it looks like the boys already have her tied down. That was fast. We don't see a plane like this everyday."
"Nobody does. She'll be here overnight. Do you have an airport car?"
An airport car is usually an old bomb that nobody would steal and anybody can take for a little while as long as they put it back with gas in it. It works on the honor system. The reason for their importance is transportation for anyone who lands at an airport and no one is there to meet them ie friends or taxis. Typically you could fly an hour or two to visit an unfamiliar, land and get out. Now what? Nothing, that's what. You have no car and nowhere to go. Usually grab a hamburger at some joint on that airport, and there you have the $100 dollar hamburger.
"Sorry, the car is out and I don't know for how long. Where you off to?"
"I want to get checked in to the Tom Sawyer Motel, before I go to work. I have to adjust the beacon in the tower."
"Oh, you're the guy. You do the light in the tower. What, do you like change the bulb?"
Uncle Johnny hated, but almost accepted people making his job sound trivial. It almost always led to an overinflated discussion/lecture on what he actually did. One thing Uncle Johnny knew to be true was that everyone thinks their job is very important and likes to have theirs thought of that way. He was no exception.
"I work with the FAA. I'm certified to adjust, calibrate and fine tune the tower beacon." Yup, he changed the bulb.
Boy Blue, still listening, "Hey how many of you guys does it take to put in a lightbulb?"
"You know, I think I saw some cheese on the other side of a crack in the wall over there."
Eric Michaelson ignored the interchange and spoke up "Uncle Johnny you can take my car, check in and bring it back. You'll be back before I leave here tonight. When are you working in the tower?"
"I wait until just after dark to monitor the luminosity of the replacement bulb, and check the level and balance of the beam, check the number of flashes per minute and of course the colors. I don't want to bore you, but there's much more." There really isn't.
Uncle Johnny decided Michaelson was an okay guy and took him up on the offer. It would take ten minutes finding the hotel on Western Ave and he'd be back in time to change the tower light bulb.
"Thanks, Eric, I'll be back in no time."
"No problem. Here's the keys. It's the blue Chevy parked next to the yellow Mustang that this guy owns." Nodding to Boy Blue.
"Yeah, watch out for my Stang." Boy Blue trying to appear somewhat menacing. Reignored.
The three broke. One to the FBO, one to some hole in the wall, and the last went past the ramp that still had a small group around the 247 and out to the parking lot. Uncle Johnny spotted the Chevy / Mustang combo. The black plastic frame around the Mustang license plate read 'You've been stung by my Stang!' "Yeah that should read 'I've been stunk up by my owner'." Uncle Johnny noticed a GQ mag on the front seat. "I wonder what he does with that. No obvious physical clues, that's for sure." The addressed subscriber name was Mark Wallace. "Oh, so that's the little jerk's name.
Uncle Johnny slid into the Chevy and it kicked over first time. "Pretty good for an old klunker. This could pass for an airport car. Woops, hope that's not on tape." The car didn't look that bad compared to some others in the lot. Winters are tough up in Albany.
Ten minutes later he was on Western Avenue and spotted a Howard Johnsons just before seeing the Tom Sawyer Motel. "Great! Hojo waffles in the morning! Yeah baby." like he was having waffles for breakfast for the first time.
At the hotel, he was checked in and had the key in no time. "Thanks. How long does it take to get a taxi here and over to the airport?"
The girl thought. "Depends. Could take up to an hour during rush hour. Wait, didn't you just pull up in a car? What do you need with a taxi?"
"The car is borrowed. Wait, what kind of rush hour does Albany have?"
"It can get busy here. This is the capital of the Empire State."
"Yeah, I heard that one already."
"Actually, there really isn't much of a rush hour. The taxis are just not the quickest. Neither of them. You've been warned." she said with a smile.
Uncle Johnny went to his room and dropped off his flight bag and suitcase. He took the bag with his tools and the tower beacon bulb in it.
Back at the airport the sun was down and the sky had barely any light. The same parking spot was still open. Uncle Johnny pulled in and edged the Chevy just a little closer to the Mustang on purpose. "Aint I a stinker?"
On his way to the FBO, he admired the 247. She was finally alone on the ramp and looked absolutely regal with her slightly nose high attitude.
"Hey you made it back in one piece."
"Yeah, here's the keys. Thanks again. I got a warning about the morning Albany rush hour and the taxis around here."
" Oh yeah it's busy around here. This is the capital of the Empire State, you know. Very cosmopolitan."
Uncle Johnny let it pass. Maybe that 'capital of the Empire State' thing is a local joke. Michaelson actually seemed like a pretty cool guy. For that matter so did the girl in the Tom Sawyer.
"I have to be here at 8:30 tomorrow. I can pick you up at the hotel at a quarter after eight if you want. I pass right by it."
"Eric, that would be great."
"Good. Stop by when you finish in the tower. Say hi to the pigeons."
"Say hi to what?"
"The pigeons. That's what we call those guys who spend their days up in that coop. They come ,they go. We see them walking around up there in the tower. We don't talk to them much. They really don't do much."
"Well they must do something or no planes would be getting in here."
"Yeah? Without us, no planes would be able to leave here. Remember, send our fondest regard to them and stop by after."
"Will do. See you later."
At the door to the tower, Uncle Johnny hit the buzzer.
"'mon up." and the door lock clicked open. Uncle Johhny hit the buzzer again and started "I'm here to work on the..."
"Yeah, we said c'mon up."
The stairway was very narrow. Ten steps up. A landing to turn around on and ten more steps up to the next landing. Again and again. He felt like he was in a boring m.c. escher. At the top of the stairs he knocked on the door and was buzzed in. "Hi I'm Uncle Johnny. I'm here to work on the beacon."
There were only two guys in the little tower."Yeah, we know. I'm Dan DeMarzo, I'm doing departures now and this is Ryan Aparo, he's doing approaches to the field." Aparo barely looked up from his screen and nodded. DeMarzo continued,"We have one question, where did you get that plane?"
"I have one question, how do I get to the beacon?"
"The beacon is on the roof. Just pull down that ceiling doorway and you can unfold the attached ladder. It's totally enclosed and you can crawl right in there. Let us know when you are ready so we can alert all approaching and departing aircraft that the tower will be dark temporarily. Now, where did you..."
"How much lead time do you need to alert the traffic?"
"Five minutes will do it. It's very slow tonight."
Uncle Johnny had five minutes to kill before these guys would be asking about the plane again. "Alright start now, I have to get my tools ready." he reached into his bag and started shuffling his tools around. His tools were really nothing more than a few screw drivers, a small level, vice grips which he declared the greatest tool ever invented, some Windex, paper towels, WD-40, and the watch on his wrist.
Aparo on the mike, " Notice to all aircraft approaching and departing Albany airspace, the Albany beacon will be off in five minutes and remain off for maintenance until further notice. Some dill weed here wants to change the lightbulb."
Uncle Johnny looked up so fast he almost fell over. When he regained himself, he saw DeMarzo and Aparo slapping high fives.
"Great one Ryan." Through his laughter DeMarzo said "His finger was off the transmit button right after 'until further notice.' That was awesome Ryan!"
"Great, Heckle and Jeckle here have nothing better to do." thought Uncle Johnny. He pulled down the ceiling doorway, unfolded and let down the ladder. He looked into the little glass house that held the bulb. The effect of the green and white flashes was annoying. He looked at his watch and waited for the second hand to hit twelve.
"So about that plane. Where did you get that..."
"Hey, I need quiet. I'm counting. Now I have to restart" He didn't need quiet. He needed that question to go away. The minute started and he counted twenty-five flashes. Perfect. "Okay, you can kill the beacon, Dan." Uncle Johnny went up the ladder and crouched in the now mostly dark glass house on top of the control tower with his tool bag and bulb. He had to wait for the original bulb to cool.
Once  settled in, he took out all of the tools, most of which he had no intention of using and carefully laid them out on the glass house floor. He proceeded to Windex the panes of the glasshouse and the glass enclosure that protected the rotating beacon. He knew the beacon was level by watching it earlier.
 He looked through panes and admired the view. No haze. Good star show and of course the airport. The three most beautiful manmade landmarks are golf courses, baseball diamonds and airports at day or night.
"Hey what's taking so long up there?"
He rattled some of his tools to sound busy.
"The last guy was done by now."
After ten more minutes of making believe he was busy and that he couldn't hear DeMarzo and Aparo, he popped out the old bulb and put in the new one. All the used and unused tools were packed up. Mission accomplished. Down the ladder he went.
"Hey what took so long? The guy who changed the bulb last year was done in no time?" asked Aparo.
"It's not just changing the beacon. There's more to it." Man, do these two ever quit?
"Yeah he was looking at the stars." guessed DeMarzo.
"Nah, he was looking at the ants." said Aparo.
"The what? Are there ants..." started Uncle Johnny.
"No. The ants. That's what we call those guys who spend their days down there at the FBO. They come ,they go. We see them walking around down there in and out of the FBO and on the ramp. We don't talk to them much. They really don't do much."
"Well they must do something or no planes would be getting out of here."
"Yeah? Without us, no planes would be getting in here."
DeMarzo threw the switch for the beacon to light up again.
Aparo on the mike, "All aircraft in the Albany area be aware the tower light is in full operation as of now."
"Nice job Uncle Johnny. I can tell you levelled the beacon up there. It seems good as new." That settled it it. DeMarzo was definitely a cool guy.
"Yeah thanks for showing up on time and with very little disruption to air traffic." Uncle Johnny was a little taken aback by Aparo's appreciation. Maybe Aparo was cool after all.
"Nice meeting you." Uncle Johnny said walking out the door. As the door was closing behind him he heard Aparo, "See ya Bulb Boy." The door closed to laughter on the other side. "No Aparo is definitely a tool." Next he thought he heard a high five through the closed door. "Hmm. Maybe DeMarzo..."
Uncle Johnny made straight for the FBO from the tower, all the while admiring the graceful silhouette of the 247 resting peacefully in the first tie down on the ramp. Before he even got to the door, Eric called, "Hey Uncle Johnny, I'm leaving in ten. I'll drive you to the Tom Sawyer. Just let me finish up here."
"Great. You sure you're finished for the night? "
"Yeah, all our planes are in and nothing's scheduled until nine thirty. A charter flight." said Eric
"Where are the other guys.?"
"You kidding? When they're finished, they're long gone. The boss is always last to leave. I see the beacon is back. What took so long? The guy who changed the bulb last year was done in no time?"
"Are you sure you don't talk much with the guys up in the tower?"
"What, the pigeons? No, never. You send them our regards?"
"Sure, they're a real class act."
The trip to the hotel went a lot faster with Eric driving. This should not be surprising because country boys always drive fast. They pulled up to the motel entrance.
"I'll pick you up here at eight thirty."
"Actually, could you pick me up at the Howard Johnsons across the street?"
"Howard Johnson's at eight thirty. See you then." said Eric as he bolted away from the motel.
Uncle Johnny went into the office to see if there were any messages for him. There weren't. There never was.
The next morning, Uncle Johnny was half way through his HoJo waffles when Eric came walking in. He didn't even look at his watch. He knew it was only ten after eight.
"Good morning Uncle Johnny. Sorry I'm so early, but I'm afraid I have to break up your breakfast if you want to ride with me to the airport. Wallace called me this morning to say he left the hangar keys inside the hangar yesterday and now he is behind getting ready for the charterflight."
Uncle Johnny had to do what he had to do. He slid his remaining waffle off of his plate and onto a napkin. He folded the corners over and the waffles were completely covered. He slid his still warm parcel into the side pocket of his flight bag. Eric was impressed with the easy and natural manner with which he dipatched his parcel. but didn't mention it.
The car pulled into the airport lot next to the Mustang. Uncle Johnny peaked in the window and there was the GQ magazine apparently unmoved. No surprise.
On the way to the FBO, they walked past the ramp. In the first tie down was a beautiful red Pitts Special S2B with the classic paint scheme. The November number on the side was November zero two Uniform Juliet. The word beautiful was unnecessary here because that's just the way they come.
"She really is a beaut that Pitts Special." said Eric. "You really put on a show when you brought her in yesterday."
"The show's all her's." He was right.

 

They proceeded to the FBO and found Boy Blue, currently known as Mark Wallace leaning forlornly against the FBO door. He was dressed in blue on blue with the same blue cap. This outfit had the profound effect of making him look just like he did yesterday.
"I'm sorry about the keys, Mr.Michaelson." said Boy Blue without any nod to Uncle Johnny.
"Don't worry about it. Will you be done by nine thirty for the charter?" asked Eric.
"Sure, Mr. Michaelson."
Eric opened the FBO door and Boy Blue slid in and went through a door behind the couch and into the hangar. Gone.
Eric called over his shoulder to Uncle Johnny as he walked in the back. "I have to get paperwork ready. You can use the phone here to call for the weather."
"Uncle Johnny got the terminal forecast. He picked up his flight bag and went out to the plane in the first tie down. A beautiful Pitts Special biplane with the classic red and white stipe paint job. Here was an exciting piece of art. He admired her every step of the way and patted her spinner which he did to all plane types he'd known before.
He opened the canopy and found a new bag with a beacon in it. Providence, Rhode Island was written on top of the bag. "Well Providence sounds good, but I'm going to try for Farmingdale anyway." He put the flight bag on the front seat and buckled it in so he could reach it later. He then did a prefight or walkaround inspection. Everything, of course, was in perfect order and the gas was full.
As he was getting in the plane, Eric came out of the FBO office.
"I just wanted another look at this baby. She sure is something. So, where you off to, home?" asked Eric.
"Well, every flight gets me closer to home." He was right. "I'm headed now to Farmingdale."
"Hell, that's gotta be about fifty minutes in this thing, right?"
"That's about right, maybe a little less."
Out of the hangar door came Boy Blue, over to the plane. "Hey how did you ever get a hold of a machine like this? This is a teststerone rocket. This is a real man's plane."
"You know this plane has something in common with the Mustang. You drive a Mustang. Anyway, both were designed for women."
"Bull, they were not!" Declared Boy Blue, his lips tightening. "That's not true. The Mustang is a muscle car."
"The first Pitts Special was designed for Betty Skelton, a female pilot and the Ford Mustang was designed for secretaries."
"Bull!"
"Look it up."said Uncle Johnny.
"You look it up" retorted Boy Blue.
Uncle Johnny was sort of disappointed by that comeback.
"Yeah and then why don't you look for another lightbulb to change?" added Boy Blue.
"Excuse me, but do you have some typing to do? Or maybe today you can do some filing."
"Well with you in there, there's still no testerone in that plane." offered Boy Blue quite smugly.
"Maybe not, but there are these. These are keys. You know about keys. They open doors." said Uncle Johnny holding the keys high and jingling them.
Boy Blue turned around disgusted and headed for the hangar, while Eric shook his head looking at the ground. Stifling a smile.
"Well you two get along."
"Yes, I must get along. Thanks for the rides Eric. Nice meeting you." Eric reached into the cockpit and they shook hands.
"Likewise" said Uncle Johnny.
"By the way, was that true about Mustangs and secretaries?" asked Eric.
"It might be." said Uncle Johnny. With that he called out "Clear Prop!" and pulled the canopy shut. Electrical on, beacon on, ignition on and the engine roared to life. Uncle Johnny made contact with ground control and taxied out to the active runway.
"Albany tower this is November zero two Uniform Juliet."
"Uniform Juliet, runway two eight cleared for take off."
"Uniform Juliet." replied Uncle Johnny.
"Uniform Juliet, you are alone in the pattern. You may climb to altitude at your discretion and do a fly over of the runway if needed."
A bizarre transmission, but nothing Uncle Johnny hadn't heard before. Once off the ground he pulled back on the stick and climbed at 2800 feet per minute. Magnificent! He levelled off, brought her around hard, raced to the end of the runway and brought her around hard again. He loved the feel of the g-forces and the sound of the engine. He knew everyone watching, in the tower and on the ground loved the display. Including Boy Blue. As he passed abeam the tower, he snap rolled her, pulled hard and climbed away.

"Good day Uniform Juliet." transmitted the tower.
Uncle Johnny levelled off, reduced power and headed south. Once on course, he reached over the seat, into his flight bag and pulled out the napkin with his remaining waffle.
"Mmmm."