Pietenpol-List: the siren song of the Aircamper
Posted: Sat Oct 15, 2011 10:06 pm
Original Posted By: "Clif Dawson"
Yes, Tools has fallen for the same lady that the rest of us have.I'm an engineer. Logical, rational, methodical. And yet, Ifall for the lure of the open cockpit and the "scent of an airplane"that comes from the wood and fabric of my Pietenpol, without rhymeor reason. It's the perfect elixir of avgas, exhaust, wood, andsome sublime mixture that Ray Stits or Bernard Pietenpol orsomebody came up with in a back room somewhere. Heck, for all Iknow there is a John Stromberg and a Fred Continental who alsosat in the room and sprinkled some kind of pixie dust in the vialto come up with the intoxicating stuff. It comes out of theseold airplanes, from their exhausts and cockpits and propwashes, and fills our senses and leads us around on a leash like puppies.Whatever it is, it's more potent than wine, women, or song. It'swhat keeps pulling us back to the hangar, to the cockpit, to theprop, throttle, and stick.We go nowhere on these flights... we start and end up at the same place. It'slike a ride that ends too soon but the next one is only as far awayas the hangar door and the fuel valve, so we can keep going backagain and again. We fly the same routine, feel the same sensationsthrough the wires and controls, feel the same blast of air on ourfaces, but each time it's new again, and perfect. There is just noexplanation for what it is about flying these old airplanes.But I'm preaching to the choir here. Also missing my airplane, very much.Oscar ZunigaAir Camper NX41CC "Scout"Flying Squirrel N2069Z "Rocket"Medford, OR website at http://www.flysquirrel.net ________________________________________________________________________________
Yes, Tools has fallen for the same lady that the rest of us have.I'm an engineer. Logical, rational, methodical. And yet, Ifall for the lure of the open cockpit and the "scent of an airplane"that comes from the wood and fabric of my Pietenpol, without rhymeor reason. It's the perfect elixir of avgas, exhaust, wood, andsome sublime mixture that Ray Stits or Bernard Pietenpol orsomebody came up with in a back room somewhere. Heck, for all Iknow there is a John Stromberg and a Fred Continental who alsosat in the room and sprinkled some kind of pixie dust in the vialto come up with the intoxicating stuff. It comes out of theseold airplanes, from their exhausts and cockpits and propwashes, and fills our senses and leads us around on a leash like puppies.Whatever it is, it's more potent than wine, women, or song. It'swhat keeps pulling us back to the hangar, to the cockpit, to theprop, throttle, and stick.We go nowhere on these flights... we start and end up at the same place. It'slike a ride that ends too soon but the next one is only as far awayas the hangar door and the fuel valve, so we can keep going backagain and again. We fly the same routine, feel the same sensationsthrough the wires and controls, feel the same blast of air on ourfaces, but each time it's new again, and perfect. There is just noexplanation for what it is about flying these old airplanes.But I'm preaching to the choir here. Also missing my airplane, very much.Oscar ZunigaAir Camper NX41CC "Scout"Flying Squirrel N2069Z "Rocket"Medford, OR website at http://www.flysquirrel.net ________________________________________________________________________________