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."