by Peter Julier
right. He tried to crab into it, but he struggled to keep the wings level and the airplane started to slip and descend rapidly. He got the wings level and added power, but he was still losing too much altitude. The VASI lights were all red; at this rate of descent he was going to land about 100 feet short of the threshold. "So close, I can't blow it now!" he said to himself. Gary applied full power, and after several very long seconds the airplane ceased to descend and was now climbing. He then reduced power because he wanted to land at the slowest speed possible--around 44 knots. The sound of the change in engine rpm and the sight of the wings rocking side to side made it obvious to the emergency crews in the fire trucks that the pilot was struggling to wrestle this aircraft to the ground. They were informed that this was a student pilot, which added to their uneasy feeling about the situation.
The Gobosh crossed the runway threshold with about 30 feet of altitude and an airspeed of 50 knots. Gary pulled the throttle all the way back to idle and brought the nose up slightly to reduce airspeed. Just before he touched down, he instinctively removed his right hand from the throttle and placed it on the top of the instrument panel to brace for the coming impact. The airplane seemed to float in the ground effect for an eternity. The left main tire touched, and then the airplane fell on to the tireless right landing gear, followed by the nose gear. The noise of the tire rim skidding on the runway was intense, and as irritating to listen to as someone scraping their fingernails across a chalkboard. As the Gobosh swerved hard to the right side of the runway, Gary applied full left rudder. The nose came back to the runway centerline, but as the speed decreased, the airplane swung 180 degrees and skidded down the runway. Gary feared it was going to flip, trapping him in the cockpit. Sure enough, the right wing rose enough for the prop to strike the runway and then came down again. The airplane had come to a stop. Gary turned off the ignition and fuel. Just as he turned off the master switch, a firefighter lifted the canopy. "Are you okay?" he asked. Gary was in such shock that all he could do was nod. He knew he must get out of the cockpit quickly in case a fire broke out, but he was in such a panic he fumbled with the seatbelt buckle. As soon as he got his seatbelt undone, the firefighter pulled him from the cockpit and helped him get a safe distance from the airplane.
A few days later, Gary received a call from his instructor John inviting him out to the airport to look at the airplane. As they entered the hangar, they saw two mechanics removing the wing-to-fuselage fairings. Gary peered into the cockpit and noticed his headset was still there. He lifted the canopy to retrieve it. "Are you the pilot who flew this thing?" one of the mechanics asked. Gary was afraid to answer for fear the mechanic would give him an ass chewing, although he would have no reason to; after all, it wasn't his fault. "Yes I am," he answered. The mechanic then waved him over to the right side. "Check this out." They both squatted under the wing where there was a hole so big you could fit a bowling ball in it. Gary was in shock. "Holy crap!" The mechanic then shined his flashlight inside the gaping hole. "Check out the control rod for the right aileron." The rod was bent so sharply it was cracked almost completely through. "That thing was about to break in half. You sure are one lucky son of a bitch!" Gary was speechless. He looked at the right landing gear that was not only missing a tire, but now twisted like a pretzel.
"You must have ran over something on the runway that just blew that tire to pieces," the mechanic continued. Gary started to appreciate just how lucky he was. "How long to fix her?" he asked. The mechanic gave him a smirk. "Fix her? Are you kidding? The appraiser was just here yesterday. Mister, she's done. The wing and the landing gear could be repaired, but the fuselage is too twisted from the crash. We're just tearing her down for scrap."
Gary was suddenly filled with grief thinking of all the hours he spent flying the now soon-to-be parted out Gobosh. He had no clue he had come to the hangar to see Four Papa Mike for the last time. John tried to console Gary. "You did a great job bringing her back in, Gary. In a couple of weeks the club will have another Gobosh. I think it's coming from Florida. Come on, let's go inside and grab a cup of coffee and I'll tell you about the time I crash landed a friend's ultralight into a swimming pool." "You crashed an ultralight into a swimming pool--really?" "Yeah, and the worst part of it was not only was his ultralight destroyed, it was also his swimming pool!" They both enjoy a good laugh as they walk back to the flight center.
The End
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About the Author
Peter is an aviation technician for a major airline, and has been in the aviation industry for the last 28 years. Prior to that, he cooked fries and fish fillets at a local McDonald's. He says that although working for an airline does have its share of drawbacks, such as losing your pension so the CEO can purchase an island in the Caribbean, at least now he doesn't have to wear a paper hat. He was first published in his early twenties when he started to write poetry. Several of his poems won top placements in nationwide contests; the rest are now in the crawlspace next to the leftover linoleum from the kitchen project.
Peter currently resides in Colorado with his wife of 24 years. He believes the key to a happy marriage is good communication, a willingness to compromise, and vacuuming once in a while. One of his favorite things to do is to relax in his almost-favorite coffee shop with his laptop and allow his imagination to run wild.
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