Texas
September 2009
Maddie 8
Kier 5
Cora 2
It was our first big cross county
family trip in the Piper Cherokee, a single engine prop plane that
just barely seats six. Somehow, despite my inexperience, I knew this
take off was not quiet right. I had not yet learned the distinct
sounds that the plane makes at different stages of fight, so I don't
think that was my tip off. But I definitely knew that the airplane
was not climbing at its usual rate, that the sky scrapers of downtown
Amarillo seemed to be getting closer quicker then we were getting
higher. To be fair this was Amarillo, Texas not, say, New York City,
so there was really only one building that could classify as a
skyscraper, and even at that the Chase building is only 31 stories
high. Still, the fact that a 374 foot building was looming on the
horizon might be an indication of how slowly we were climbing.
When Joel turned to
the north I breathed a sign of relief-- it would be short lived. No
sooner had we turned away from the looming large downtown then Joel
reached down and quickly turned the little key under the yoke one
tick to the left. The engine sputtered, the propeller slowed, and
the drone of the engine quieted. Joel quickly flicked the key back
to the right. The engine resumed. Barely daring to turn my head, I
glanced at Joel, his face revealed nothing. Determined that nothing
good would come from anything I might say, I kept my mouth shut and
gripped the sides of my seat.
However, when Joel
flicked the switch briefly to the left a second time, the words could
no longer be contained, and “What the Hell are you doing?”
involuntarily flew from my mouth.
Joel's curt reply
of, “We're going back,” told me nothing and everything all at the
same time.
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| Still smiling--Kier and Maddie in the Cherokee, circa 2009 |
We all sat quietly
as the airplane turned back to the Amarillo Airport. Not a peep was
heard from the three kids in the back seat. In fact, I think this
was before we had even purchased jr. size headsets. The kids only had
ear plugs, leaving them completely out of the loop as to what was
going on!
Joel radioed the
tower and reported that, due to a mechanical issue we would be
returning. They asked if we needed to declare an emergency and Joel
said no. All the while his face never wavered.
(editing comment: when I had the kids read this before I published it for all the world, Kier read that sentence and said, "THAT IS SO TURE! DAD NEVER GETS UPSET ABOUT ANYTHING" :)
As the wheels touched ground, we heard comments from the back like, "are we home", "that was a short flight" and "why does this airport look just like the last one?"
We taxied the plane over to the mechanic, where it was quickly discovered that the left magnitio was completely dead. The magnito is a
part of the ignition system in the engine. It produces the
electrical current that provides the spark for the spark plugs. On
reflection, this diagnosis made perfect sense.
Early on in the
trip, the very first day in fact, just as we were crossing into
Texas, Joel had noticed an occasional clicking noise coming over the
radio. Reasoning that something might be wrong with the spark plugs
we had landed at the closest airport. We had unfortunatly chosen
Memorial Day as our departure day, and so there was no one in the
mechanics shop that day. But the proverbial group of old World War
two veterans that inhabit every small airfield in America helped Joel
check each and every spark plug that day. Satisfied that the spark
plugs were working, Joel promised that even if the engine failed we
would always be within gliding distance of the land. This was not
really a comfort, but given the options we continued on. So perhaps
the real surprise is that the magnito held out long enough to get to
Port Aransus and then back as far as Amarillo before it gave up the
ghost.
In the end this
little mechanical failure set us back an extra two days. Two more
days on a trip that had already been extended by two extra days due
to fog and rain along the gulf coast of Texas. Two extra days at the
beach had been one thing, two extra days with nothing for
entertainment but a little pool and an equally little park was less
attractive.
In the mean time my
mom offered to drive down from Colorado to take the kids and I home.
“No, no” I said, knowing that if I didn't finish this flight home
I might never be willing to climb into the airplane ever again.
When the time did
come, two days later, the rest of the family walked out to load up
the airplane, and I quietly snuck off to the bathroom where my
nervous stomach lost its breakfast right before I joined my family
and we started back to Colorado.
Clearly, this was a
less than auspicious start to our new family hobby of vacation
flying, but when people ask me if I am ever afraid flying in a small
plane, this is the story that I tell them. Because yes sometimes I
am but, more importantly this event taught me that we were capable of
dealing with emergencies. Even as it was happening I remember thinking,
“OK so this is what I feared, and this is what we do in this
situation.” Somehow there is something empowering in knowing this
is who we are in an emergency, this is how we roll.
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| Toddler Cora, in the Cherokee, circa 2009 |
