Night Flying With Forrest

The Piper Tomahawk:
Now that was an interesting airplane, it had a long narrow wing and a T tail... it kind of felt like you were sitting in a bubble on top of the wing...  or  like a bubble on a Carpenters Level, maybe a bit of a motor glider.

It was dubbed the Trama Hawk, Snicker,  It had a peculiar trait... if you went into an old school power on stall now called departure stalls  (operating manuals got much thicker to) ....  and cranked your head around just before the break you could see the horizontal stabilizer flutter... Forrest  did it only once... Forrest did not like that.

However Forrest did have access to the plane..at a good price, it was green and white.. and had a Lycoming engine.. it had a lot of hours on it.. as Forrest recalls it may have even been past... T.B.O.   (recommended Time Between Overhauls.)

It ran great however, strong even.

On numerous  occasions... Forrest Byron would get off of Work around 10:00 p.m. and look up at the sky and if he could see the stars...  he would make sure the fuel tanks were full and would take off for a just over 100 mile trip up to Copperhill Tennessee.......... crossing a mountain range not terribly high but still 5-6 thousand feet... it was wonderful... sitting in that bubble... the artificial horizon dimly lit.... as the city lights of Atlanta.. slipped away behind him... and it turned into Black Velvet beneath him.... with a smattering of distant lights  ....  the horizon melded with sky...  this is where he taught himself to fly on instruments ... to some degree.. Forrest adjusted his balls, climbing out, maintaining altitude and a heading..  with frequent goo goo eye scans to his best friend the Artificial Horizon..........compass, and altimeter.... engine in the greens, thank you, there that is not so hard, he never lost control flying into the void... though once he let his attention drift and found himself in a 30 degree wing low situation..  that is when he brought it back up.

Oh it was dark down there....  I suppose if the engine quits.. He  thought to himself he would just set up a best angle of glide speed with the trim and roll with the dice,    oh look!   Sssssssssnake  eyes............

Then in the far distance right around 12 O'clock  the rotating beacon at Copperhill would appear... Flashing,  Green White, Green White, Green White...  yes that must be it he thought and came to know a sigh of relief.... flying a nice high pattern... he slid in to the dark spot between the row of lights... taxi to the abandoned of people parking tie down and ramp  area and mosey over to the pay phone,

Drop a quarter in  and his Sister would come pick him up at the Airport. Tie down the plane.  It was now a quarter to one in the morning in a less complicated time between the air mail pilots (then) and the now.



                                                  Forrest Byron