Dark Star.........
I am depleted .........
Flying down so low along us one is a sputtering twin..........
Daffy Duck commercials play through Byrons head.
Next its in Manhattan........ strolling into Sacks Fifth Avenue........
Sailing along........ why its the Madonna....... she approaches Byron.... " Come on up to the Penthouse, I have something to show you.
I am not making any blind claims.......
The Hearts Tempest............
Monday, December 19, 2016
Friday, July 22, 2016
Byron Did Bad, But He Did Not Spin In.
Byron looked at the Sectional Chart.. there was a private grass strip nestled in the mountains just outside of Helen in North Georgia... 1800' with an up slope towards rising terrain... He wanted to go in there.
Oh he thought about it all right and studied the information and weather... and his airplanes performance charts........
Day came he climbed into the PA 28 R... Many call it a Piper Arrow... it was a later model with the tapered wing...
The 100 statute mile flight out of Atlanta was uneventful... he flew over the velvet mountains below and set up a nice approach and slipped into the strip with no problem.
Following Days Departure:
This is where the fun began..... well lets see... one direction the runway had a gentle up slope towards the rising terrain... He asked the advice of the old man that was there who owned the strip what he though about conditions that morning... The elderly gentleman suggested a take off towards the rising terrain and with the up slope........... due to the winds.......
Now as you may well know the Arrow has a safety feature on the landing gear.. above VX of climb the landing gear comes down automatic.. for us genius types.... Byron knowing this engaged the Manual Override on the automatic gear extension feature so he could suck the gear up and perform a maximum performance short field take off.... and climb out at Best Angle of climb........
Byron knew he was light.... around half fuel and he was the only physical person on board....
Byron taxied the Arrow or PA 28 R if you prefer to the end of the dewy grass strip... did his run up ..
Stood on the brakes and applied full power...............
There we go.... Brake release and off to the races............
Very nice... Best angle of climb.. gear up... shallow turn to the right crosswind before smacking into the mountain.. my those tree tops are a bit close.......
NOW! at this very fine moment the engine automatically retards several hundred r.p.m.'s and starts a loud knocking... Precious.....
He hears his instructor who is not in the airplane say... 'Get your head out of the Cockpit keep the bank shallow get the nose down maintain the airspeed and whatever you do don't stall the wing'
Byron remembers saying ' Jesus please don't let me go into the trees' Engine rattling he gets the plane around and level on a low right hand down wind... the terrain was falling beneath him... ok, ok, ok, he says to him self... he gently pulls back some on the power... or throttle.. the engine quits knocking at the reduced setting... now the dilemma........... Stay on course for Atlanta with a faulty engine or land back at the little Strip? nestled in the mountains just there.... out the window to his right.... and not too far below...
He extends his down wind.....
Well lets experiment.. he rolls in to full power again and that engine started knocking loud again,
Another instructors voice chimes in his head... "no runway closer then the one below you... why chance it?"
Byron commits... to his short field landing ... he was still flying from outside... he reached in the plane and grabbed the flap lever... full flaps... hold it off .... hold it off... hold it off... full stall... tie down ring hits the turf..
THE GEAR! THE GEAR! Dag Nabbit.......... The GEAR!
Well Byron accomplished some world record for a short field landing... PLOP........... Seat backs all flew forward.. the prop sliced the turf 3 times like the top of a loaf of bread... and the Flying Machine came to a full rest falling silent.
It all got very still... Mags off, Master off, fuel off... out the door and on the wing... run away.....
Please tell me that did not just happen.
Well if it is any consolation prize... Byron heard... "there are those that have and those that will land gear up"
Epilogue: It turned out the plane had a bent push rod that turned out to be the noise maker at the party.... the plane suffered little damage.. just curled the inboard trailing edges of the flaps and curled the propeller tips...
The Gear! The Gear! Thankfully Byron was able to miss the Tree Tops.. and got it around.. with a shallow bank...
Byron just did not reach over and lower the gear.... Byron did bad, but he did not spin in.
Oh he thought about it all right and studied the information and weather... and his airplanes performance charts........
Day came he climbed into the PA 28 R... Many call it a Piper Arrow... it was a later model with the tapered wing...
The 100 statute mile flight out of Atlanta was uneventful... he flew over the velvet mountains below and set up a nice approach and slipped into the strip with no problem.
Following Days Departure:
This is where the fun began..... well lets see... one direction the runway had a gentle up slope towards the rising terrain... He asked the advice of the old man that was there who owned the strip what he though about conditions that morning... The elderly gentleman suggested a take off towards the rising terrain and with the up slope........... due to the winds.......
Now as you may well know the Arrow has a safety feature on the landing gear.. above VX of climb the landing gear comes down automatic.. for us genius types.... Byron knowing this engaged the Manual Override on the automatic gear extension feature so he could suck the gear up and perform a maximum performance short field take off.... and climb out at Best Angle of climb........
Byron knew he was light.... around half fuel and he was the only physical person on board....
Byron taxied the Arrow or PA 28 R if you prefer to the end of the dewy grass strip... did his run up ..
Stood on the brakes and applied full power...............
There we go.... Brake release and off to the races............
Very nice... Best angle of climb.. gear up... shallow turn to the right crosswind before smacking into the mountain.. my those tree tops are a bit close.......
NOW! at this very fine moment the engine automatically retards several hundred r.p.m.'s and starts a loud knocking... Precious.....
He hears his instructor who is not in the airplane say... 'Get your head out of the Cockpit keep the bank shallow get the nose down maintain the airspeed and whatever you do don't stall the wing'
Byron remembers saying ' Jesus please don't let me go into the trees' Engine rattling he gets the plane around and level on a low right hand down wind... the terrain was falling beneath him... ok, ok, ok, he says to him self... he gently pulls back some on the power... or throttle.. the engine quits knocking at the reduced setting... now the dilemma........... Stay on course for Atlanta with a faulty engine or land back at the little Strip? nestled in the mountains just there.... out the window to his right.... and not too far below...
He extends his down wind.....
Well lets experiment.. he rolls in to full power again and that engine started knocking loud again,
Another instructors voice chimes in his head... "no runway closer then the one below you... why chance it?"
Byron commits... to his short field landing ... he was still flying from outside... he reached in the plane and grabbed the flap lever... full flaps... hold it off .... hold it off... hold it off... full stall... tie down ring hits the turf..
THE GEAR! THE GEAR! Dag Nabbit.......... The GEAR!
Well Byron accomplished some world record for a short field landing... PLOP........... Seat backs all flew forward.. the prop sliced the turf 3 times like the top of a loaf of bread... and the Flying Machine came to a full rest falling silent.
It all got very still... Mags off, Master off, fuel off... out the door and on the wing... run away.....
Please tell me that did not just happen.
Well if it is any consolation prize... Byron heard... "there are those that have and those that will land gear up"
Epilogue: It turned out the plane had a bent push rod that turned out to be the noise maker at the party.... the plane suffered little damage.. just curled the inboard trailing edges of the flaps and curled the propeller tips...
The Gear! The Gear! Thankfully Byron was able to miss the Tree Tops.. and got it around.. with a shallow bank...
Byron just did not reach over and lower the gear.... Byron did bad, but he did not spin in.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron was thinking about the day he checked out in the 1969 Piper Arrow.. It was transition into the complex single..........
It was a flying club airplane.. he called an instructor he had never met.... when the instructor arrived at the airport he was wearing a bath robe and house slippers and smoking a pipe.........
They took the plane up and the instructor told Byron he was a 'Natural'..... as they went through a series of stalls.....
He wanted to show Byron something special about that airplane... the wing spar ends four feet in from the wing tip he advised... be careful not to over speed the air frame.. as the wing tips have been know to shed...
Oh I see what you mean as they did a stall and let the wing just fall... the airspeed really comes up quick...
That was an early model... with a Hershey bar wing, they had 3 different wings for the Piper Arrow as Byron Recalls...
The Old Boy in the Bathrobe and slippers smoking a pipe... was right.... better mind your P's and Q's in that little jewel..........
It was a fun little airplane... it was kind of like a Cherokee 140 only it had 200 H.P. engine , retractable landing gear... and a constant speed propeller........
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron.
It was a flying club airplane.. he called an instructor he had never met.... when the instructor arrived at the airport he was wearing a bath robe and house slippers and smoking a pipe.........
They took the plane up and the instructor told Byron he was a 'Natural'..... as they went through a series of stalls.....
He wanted to show Byron something special about that airplane... the wing spar ends four feet in from the wing tip he advised... be careful not to over speed the air frame.. as the wing tips have been know to shed...
Oh I see what you mean as they did a stall and let the wing just fall... the airspeed really comes up quick...
That was an early model... with a Hershey bar wing, they had 3 different wings for the Piper Arrow as Byron Recalls...
The Old Boy in the Bathrobe and slippers smoking a pipe... was right.... better mind your P's and Q's in that little jewel..........
It was a fun little airplane... it was kind of like a Cherokee 140 only it had 200 H.P. engine , retractable landing gear... and a constant speed propeller........
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
To Hot Baby
Weighing the consequence of the 180 degree turn on take off....... when the engine quits.....
After Dumping the Nose..... you checked the fuel and mags before take off .... remember?
I suppose you could pull the primer out and see if she will dart for you with some raw gas shot into the cylinders............ I don't see that on the checklist........
Density Altitude?
Minimum Altitude for the turn or not ... What makes it?
Aircraft familiarity?
Weight?
Wind direction Velocity?
Bank Angle?
Stall speed?
Present Altitude?
I suppose one could think of it as tear drop maneuver ......... on departure if executed when safe.
The adage " the runway behind you and the altitude above you as useless" comes to mind... however
How many feet do you need to turn around safely?
Depends on a lot of variables one might know or come to know before hand and set a magic number for themselves for every single flight............ prior to departure.
I mean at 1000' at sea level and lightly loaded in a 172 you should be able to turn it around and land No?... how about 500'? 300'?
Hmmmm?
But then again if there are 4 passengers..... its a hot day.... and your in Denver with full fuel......... you may not even get off the ground.
Certainly not the time to experiment........ that should of been done at altitude years ago...
To Hot Baby...........
After Dumping the Nose..... you checked the fuel and mags before take off .... remember?
I suppose you could pull the primer out and see if she will dart for you with some raw gas shot into the cylinders............ I don't see that on the checklist........
Density Altitude?
Minimum Altitude for the turn or not ... What makes it?
Aircraft familiarity?
Weight?
Wind direction Velocity?
Bank Angle?
Stall speed?
Present Altitude?
I suppose one could think of it as tear drop maneuver ......... on departure if executed when safe.
The adage " the runway behind you and the altitude above you as useless" comes to mind... however
How many feet do you need to turn around safely?
Depends on a lot of variables one might know or come to know before hand and set a magic number for themselves for every single flight............ prior to departure.
I mean at 1000' at sea level and lightly loaded in a 172 you should be able to turn it around and land No?... how about 500'? 300'?
Hmmmm?
But then again if there are 4 passengers..... its a hot day.... and your in Denver with full fuel......... you may not even get off the ground.
Certainly not the time to experiment........ that should of been done at altitude years ago...
To Hot Baby...........
Byron The Air Mail Pilot
When Byron flew the U.S. Airmail... there was very little cockpit instrumentation you see...
He had an Airspeed indicator and an altimeter..and the concrete arrows and beacons below him...
When the weather was good.. it was a joy to fly especially through the clear night sky beneath the stars overhead going along from beacon to beacon...
It was when the crap weather came... that things got interesting.... he had no instruments like an artificial horizon or turn and bank indicator even... but he knew his airplanes dynamic stability.. he knew for instance if he took his hand off the stick and did not mess with the aileron input the old girl would just sit there...and if he reduced the power she would descend and if he increased the power she would climb.. and if he lowered the nose with elevator the airspeed would increase and and if he pulled up the nose the airspeed would decrease... those were the freakish times to fly blind.. in those days they just punched through thunderstorms generally... the updrafts seem mostly to outweigh the down drafts.. there was no need to even try and bother to descend just go up with it... Whee.........
That cold rain could be a bitch.. he was glad for his leather cap and googles .. and scarf.... they were not just for looks you know?
The aircraft was the instrument you see... the inherent stability of it ... one big gyro scope enveloped in the soup moving forward.......
He knew about what later came to be know as the grave yard spiral and spatial disorientation...
They called it 'Don't Loose Your Marbles'
Trusting sensation with no visibility was not good for your health for long ... Never Drop a Wing.
So what Forrest Byron did was simple enough though a bit unnerving upon the first times ... especially when the cold and Ice were involved... sometimes the engine would sputter.........
Byron trimmed the plane and kept his head very still and centered... he controlled Pitch on the longitude axis with engine power more or less and relied on the wings dyhedral for lateral stability and of course kept the compass heading with rudder around the vertical axis... often he would opt to climb.. versus ducking under.. trying to see the ground , always chose up in the mountains...... it was the lesser of two evils.... so to speak.... He knew about how high the mountains and terrain were below him... and had no urge..... to see it up really close...
sometimes it lasted in that nasty weather as he called it... for a few hours even... before he busted out the other side... in his flying gyroscope.
He never Snatched the Controls it was all a gentle, deliberate smooth motion.
Byron the Airmail Pilot.
Some of Byrons old routes...
He had an Airspeed indicator and an altimeter..and the concrete arrows and beacons below him...
When the weather was good.. it was a joy to fly especially through the clear night sky beneath the stars overhead going along from beacon to beacon...
It was when the crap weather came... that things got interesting.... he had no instruments like an artificial horizon or turn and bank indicator even... but he knew his airplanes dynamic stability.. he knew for instance if he took his hand off the stick and did not mess with the aileron input the old girl would just sit there...and if he reduced the power she would descend and if he increased the power she would climb.. and if he lowered the nose with elevator the airspeed would increase and and if he pulled up the nose the airspeed would decrease... those were the freakish times to fly blind.. in those days they just punched through thunderstorms generally... the updrafts seem mostly to outweigh the down drafts.. there was no need to even try and bother to descend just go up with it... Whee.........
That cold rain could be a bitch.. he was glad for his leather cap and googles .. and scarf.... they were not just for looks you know?
The aircraft was the instrument you see... the inherent stability of it ... one big gyro scope enveloped in the soup moving forward.......
He knew about what later came to be know as the grave yard spiral and spatial disorientation...
They called it 'Don't Loose Your Marbles'
Trusting sensation with no visibility was not good for your health for long ... Never Drop a Wing.
So what Forrest Byron did was simple enough though a bit unnerving upon the first times ... especially when the cold and Ice were involved... sometimes the engine would sputter.........
Byron trimmed the plane and kept his head very still and centered... he controlled Pitch on the longitude axis with engine power more or less and relied on the wings dyhedral for lateral stability and of course kept the compass heading with rudder around the vertical axis... often he would opt to climb.. versus ducking under.. trying to see the ground , always chose up in the mountains...... it was the lesser of two evils.... so to speak.... He knew about how high the mountains and terrain were below him... and had no urge..... to see it up really close...
sometimes it lasted in that nasty weather as he called it... for a few hours even... before he busted out the other side... in his flying gyroscope.
He never Snatched the Controls it was all a gentle, deliberate smooth motion.
Byron the Airmail Pilot.
Some of Byrons old routes...
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
What the Fuck...... Byron was flying along in the Flat Gray B-25 with observation windows and a camera mount....The Billy Mitchell Special as he called it... he must of been shell shocked out of his mind... every thing in his vision was in black and white now... it was just he and the Corporal...
Before his eyes at 100' above the sea in the Pacific Theatre .......... there they were
Below him miles and miles of ships all lined up in a wavering single file as he flew along looking down, thinking about a strafing run... all the Japanese held their hands high.. in surrender.... if was a sigh of relief actually.... he never knew what those bastards might do.. he squinted .. what were they doing?.. they were shooting Victory signs in surrender... well as long as they were not aiming guns....
What a sight of Glory......the end of the War glory... for a camera, for a camera, for a camera,
I need a camera man.. he hollered in angst not one on board... are you kidding me?
What a sight..... thousands of Japanese troops topsides on hundreds of ships below him arms held high... they landed the reconnaissance flight on a island jungle strip not having fired a shot at the saps.... he yelled at the Corporal.. find a camera... maybe it is not to late we will go up again and make a movie of the end of the Glory....... find a camera , find a camera damn it he yelled...
I don't know anything about cameras or how to use one the Corporal remarked... I don't give a shit...
find a camera... find a camera....
bye the time they made rendezvous back at the Plane.. cob webs were inside and a huge black snake slithered forward towards the Cockpit... get that bastard out of here Byron yelled... it scared the shit out of him..
Get one of the natives.... I don't care what you do.. get that bastard out of here... a couple of Nuns got on board .. the little native islander man got the big snake out, those guys were o.k in Byrons book.. and the Corporal had found a movie camera... he told Byron he had no idea how to use it.... .... as they trundled down towards the end of the turf strip... You will learn Corporal you will learn.......... and quickly.
As they went off in search once again of the sight to behold hoping to capture on film The Surrendering in mass Glory, the end of War Glory........ In Byrons Sector.....
For Christ sake grow some Balls! he yelled out.... as he rammed the throttles to the fire wall... you Ninny.
Then In the hot pursuit of the now lost box of pictures that are in his head......... the most unbelievable sight Byron had ever seen.. all those arms up in Surrender..shooting him the victory sign in their giving up in the Grey of early morning light.....
He thought Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
Before his eyes at 100' above the sea in the Pacific Theatre .......... there they were
Below him miles and miles of ships all lined up in a wavering single file as he flew along looking down, thinking about a strafing run... all the Japanese held their hands high.. in surrender.... if was a sigh of relief actually.... he never knew what those bastards might do.. he squinted .. what were they doing?.. they were shooting Victory signs in surrender... well as long as they were not aiming guns....
What a sight of Glory......the end of the War glory... for a camera, for a camera, for a camera,
I need a camera man.. he hollered in angst not one on board... are you kidding me?
What a sight..... thousands of Japanese troops topsides on hundreds of ships below him arms held high... they landed the reconnaissance flight on a island jungle strip not having fired a shot at the saps.... he yelled at the Corporal.. find a camera... maybe it is not to late we will go up again and make a movie of the end of the Glory....... find a camera , find a camera damn it he yelled...
I don't know anything about cameras or how to use one the Corporal remarked... I don't give a shit...
find a camera... find a camera....
bye the time they made rendezvous back at the Plane.. cob webs were inside and a huge black snake slithered forward towards the Cockpit... get that bastard out of here Byron yelled... it scared the shit out of him..
Get one of the natives.... I don't care what you do.. get that bastard out of here... a couple of Nuns got on board .. the little native islander man got the big snake out, those guys were o.k in Byrons book.. and the Corporal had found a movie camera... he told Byron he had no idea how to use it.... .... as they trundled down towards the end of the turf strip... You will learn Corporal you will learn.......... and quickly.
As they went off in search once again of the sight to behold hoping to capture on film The Surrendering in mass Glory, the end of War Glory........ In Byrons Sector.....
For Christ sake grow some Balls! he yelled out.... as he rammed the throttles to the fire wall... you Ninny.
Then In the hot pursuit of the now lost box of pictures that are in his head......... the most unbelievable sight Byron had ever seen.. all those arms up in Surrender..shooting him the victory sign in their giving up in the Grey of early morning light.....
He thought Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Shake, Shake, Shake.......
Byron sauntered into the Yellow Submarine night club (disco) in Ft. Lauderdale....
K.C. and the Sunshine band was blasting....
What a cute little Italian girl... just his same age....too
Hey I am going over to Andros tomorrow.. he spoke above the din , would you like to go? If so.. I am leaving early be here I am in room 303, and left he was drinking light.
He got up the next morning packed his bag and got in the elevator and headed for the ground floor.... as the doors slid open... there she was.........
Taxi to the airport please...... they climbed into the Sky Hawk and flew a course over to Bimini and then on to Andros Town... there a Super Viking sat with strange antenna array... and the whole back of the plane was full of radio gear.....
She reached over and squeezed Byrons right leg so hard on takeoff it damn near hurt as he held right rudder to compensate for the P factor on climb out... he looked over .. 'never been in a small plane' he asked?
He kept it smooth as glass...... he was never one to be abrupt...
Next day she and him were sitting in the grass in the plane.. out by the strip tapping on the window glass ... of the A.D.F... playing...
Shake Shake Shake.... Shake Shake Shake, Shake your booty came out of the over head speaker.. as the needle swung towards the station in Cuba... just over the horizon not very far... Radio Marti...... perhaps?
Byron had a good time living and hoped she did as well... He flew her back to Ft. Lauderdale.. and misplaced her number.... He always felt kind of bad about that.
Fun adventuring type folk sometimes were hard to find.... they gave each other a genuine smile... as they parted ways...
Shake, Shake, Shake......
K.C. and the Sunshine band was blasting....
What a cute little Italian girl... just his same age....too
Hey I am going over to Andros tomorrow.. he spoke above the din , would you like to go? If so.. I am leaving early be here I am in room 303, and left he was drinking light.
He got up the next morning packed his bag and got in the elevator and headed for the ground floor.... as the doors slid open... there she was.........
Taxi to the airport please...... they climbed into the Sky Hawk and flew a course over to Bimini and then on to Andros Town... there a Super Viking sat with strange antenna array... and the whole back of the plane was full of radio gear.....
She reached over and squeezed Byrons right leg so hard on takeoff it damn near hurt as he held right rudder to compensate for the P factor on climb out... he looked over .. 'never been in a small plane' he asked?
He kept it smooth as glass...... he was never one to be abrupt...
Next day she and him were sitting in the grass in the plane.. out by the strip tapping on the window glass ... of the A.D.F... playing...
Shake Shake Shake.... Shake Shake Shake, Shake your booty came out of the over head speaker.. as the needle swung towards the station in Cuba... just over the horizon not very far... Radio Marti...... perhaps?
Byron had a good time living and hoped she did as well... He flew her back to Ft. Lauderdale.. and misplaced her number.... He always felt kind of bad about that.
Fun adventuring type folk sometimes were hard to find.... they gave each other a genuine smile... as they parted ways...
Shake, Shake, Shake......
Sunday, May 15, 2016
'Dying in the Nearby Battle of 1869
The Old Soldier Reincarnate.......
Dear Byron the funny as shit fucker......
Stood in the Pioneers Cemetery looking at his own grave stone, it was made of sandstone it was old and eroding the thin layers falling off only parts were barely legible any longer..... it was a beautiful day..... green grass, blue sky... crisp air....a lovely Ohio morning........
He was in one of the Lucky graveyards ... the grass was green it had a white picket fence around it and was manicured even.. they ran a weed eater contraption around his stone, it was Spring........ he knew the cold gray dreary winter would come again and chill him... Brrrrrrr . He thought... about throwing a log in the old wooden cabins fireplace... how he longed for soooo long ago......... and the flesh....... especially hers...
stuffing her like a holiday turkey, one of his favorite things always... she did not seem to mind either.
Byron remember being full of youth and raging........ in anger at his superior officers for he knew he was right and they mistaken.
Besides now in reflection he realized how many more incidents of battles over Sovereignty he had been engaged in.. always over whose land it was... or who's rights......... engineered affairs... cock suckers rotting in hell... that carried away the gold off in their saddle bags... he knew alright , But engaged out of Duty...
The atrocities he had engaged in... who were they to tell him anything? Now or ever more?
He remembered being so angry for being right ... why he was melting like the red hot molten metal.....
He was exploding.......... in his addiction........ He fucking liked it , that was the sickness.
Byron could fly that motor a million ways... it was his job in WW 2 to mandate the controls... Byron could fly and cut those invisible ribbons in the sky.. better then anybody, he was air king, he loved those immelman's then strafing the top side of the dirty bastards... got em good... down they they went... to smoldering masses.......... He was so high he went ape shit screaming at the top of his lungs and banging his fist's until they split and bled.
He was remembering Ms. Memory Jean as he stood over his now listing stone marker looking... she was from England you know... and what a beauty... she was dictating while he screamed his reasoning out and was the only one that understood his understanding of the truth....... mostly.
He was screaming his head off at his superior officers.... Fools...... you will die for it and they did.
She took note, later stepping over their body's.
What War! What battle in 1869? 'The tainted stuff in my heart of 1869' That's what douche bag! Byron had thought the day before, don't you remember? he questioned of himself... of course I do.... you can't hide the lie to yourself, dumb shit....... he laughed out loud to himself...... and went and took a piss talking over his shoulder while doing so.
Rage and Anger inside him and being alone....... now....... where was his respect now? He heard no marching band no Taps..........
He knew that motor inside and out and it fit together only 'Just So' and he knew it... Damn It!
He remembered the U.S.S. Main boiler explosion in Havana too... oh yes..... he was there, and many others... he was a warrior... later turned Pacifist........ just stay the fuck out of his yard... or he would untie the string and come out blasting... The Quaker Oats Man....
The English girl he later married... she understood how the screw alignment went, plus she was so hot.. and all that Big Band Era music like Glenn Miller playing he got swept up and so did she on a white stallion... as he held together all the moving pieces pieces with his two hands waiting for the armature to fall correctly into the brass bushing.... he waited patiently for the order to pull the trigger on the Dictator in that Communist Island.. The order was never given... he left Byron's scope cross hairs.. sat down and smoked a cigar and had a shot of rum, not a bad idea he thought.
As his knees hurt.. he was getting old....
Byron was Top Gun... an ace... where do you think his name came from.. an Accident? No it was his maneuvers.......... that made him Ace.....
Think Man........ Byron lived with the Officers in their quarters with his Anger Addiction.......... He knew Patton the Prick ......... a prime player on the Chess Board of that war...... he called him Car Wreck.. what a way to go he mused.
He awoke and looked over into his journals pages... they were blank... for he must of burned them in one of the wars... before or after 1869....... he remembered thinking save them.... what the hell for? Pass me a match he lit the diary journal and let it burn right on the night stand... the warmth of the fire actually felt good on that crisp morning, you can still see the soot marks... its an antique now ... nobody knows what happened.... they market the burn marks as character when selling...
Byron The reincarnate was glad within himself as he walked around his Cemetery home... now a wisp... the grounds keepers trailer that sat next door... just outside the fence... was painted blue, how pretty... was it a two bedroom 8'x40' or one? it was old for its time.. but appeared to be maintained....
He looked around ... he could understand the non fighters now ... the peace keepers.. as he remembered having tea with the Miami tribe Indians after they measured his boys foot and made his son a pair of moccasins as a gesture of friendship.. some friends we turned out to be he thought... that sucked a big wet one........ they even came over to dinner and sat at the table with him and his wife he remembers the bands of silver they wore just below and above their elbows.... and how polite they were.. generous .........
Out You Go..........off to Oklahoma ...... or where ever that was they sent you.
The last of them ... prior to their being herded West...... they left their land and fire pits for the deserving white man... how thoughtful....
He grew sick of his battles you know.. as he looked across the fields at his Quaker 'Friends' perhaps he had let them down... he understood better now their sentiments............ a couple of hundred years later.
He got the gist of it now....conscientious objection to all the blood shed... sticking the knife in the lambs neck and watching it bleed out... It did disgust him, though he had done it.......
The Confederates Slaughtered the Union.... in that one battle that had occurred nearby.. he remembered that one too... he nearly got it there... a near miss... ping right my his head and into the tree bark.
Later he helped the black folk sneak up North.. but wondered if it wasn't actually a trick of the bankers to obtain inexpensive labor.... free to starve, being shuffled from one Master to yet another under the guise of freedom... you go girl..........
Many battles lost and won on both sides...... but mainly he remembers his rage...... his anger...
War is tricky to say the least ... in all its flag waving Glory and Guts.......
As he loomed over his own grave... looking watching thinking............ as the sand stone fell apart pieces hitting the dank ground....
Byron could barely make the epitaph out ... something about living a just reward and being such a great guy and all......... a wonderful man... he laughed as he ran his cold fingers along the lettering..
Where was his next battle to be won? Who would Cash in?
and then remembering his own...... 'Dying in the nearby battle of 1869.........'
Dear Byron the funny as shit fucker......
Stood in the Pioneers Cemetery looking at his own grave stone, it was made of sandstone it was old and eroding the thin layers falling off only parts were barely legible any longer..... it was a beautiful day..... green grass, blue sky... crisp air....a lovely Ohio morning........
He was in one of the Lucky graveyards ... the grass was green it had a white picket fence around it and was manicured even.. they ran a weed eater contraption around his stone, it was Spring........ he knew the cold gray dreary winter would come again and chill him... Brrrrrrr . He thought... about throwing a log in the old wooden cabins fireplace... how he longed for soooo long ago......... and the flesh....... especially hers...
stuffing her like a holiday turkey, one of his favorite things always... she did not seem to mind either.
Byron remember being full of youth and raging........ in anger at his superior officers for he knew he was right and they mistaken.
Besides now in reflection he realized how many more incidents of battles over Sovereignty he had been engaged in.. always over whose land it was... or who's rights......... engineered affairs... cock suckers rotting in hell... that carried away the gold off in their saddle bags... he knew alright , But engaged out of Duty...
The atrocities he had engaged in... who were they to tell him anything? Now or ever more?
He remembered being so angry for being right ... why he was melting like the red hot molten metal.....
He was exploding.......... in his addiction........ He fucking liked it , that was the sickness.
Byron could fly that motor a million ways... it was his job in WW 2 to mandate the controls... Byron could fly and cut those invisible ribbons in the sky.. better then anybody, he was air king, he loved those immelman's then strafing the top side of the dirty bastards... got em good... down they they went... to smoldering masses.......... He was so high he went ape shit screaming at the top of his lungs and banging his fist's until they split and bled.
He was remembering Ms. Memory Jean as he stood over his now listing stone marker looking... she was from England you know... and what a beauty... she was dictating while he screamed his reasoning out and was the only one that understood his understanding of the truth....... mostly.
He was screaming his head off at his superior officers.... Fools...... you will die for it and they did.
She took note, later stepping over their body's.
What War! What battle in 1869? 'The tainted stuff in my heart of 1869' That's what douche bag! Byron had thought the day before, don't you remember? he questioned of himself... of course I do.... you can't hide the lie to yourself, dumb shit....... he laughed out loud to himself...... and went and took a piss talking over his shoulder while doing so.
Rage and Anger inside him and being alone....... now....... where was his respect now? He heard no marching band no Taps..........
He knew that motor inside and out and it fit together only 'Just So' and he knew it... Damn It!
He remembered the U.S.S. Main boiler explosion in Havana too... oh yes..... he was there, and many others... he was a warrior... later turned Pacifist........ just stay the fuck out of his yard... or he would untie the string and come out blasting... The Quaker Oats Man....
The English girl he later married... she understood how the screw alignment went, plus she was so hot.. and all that Big Band Era music like Glenn Miller playing he got swept up and so did she on a white stallion... as he held together all the moving pieces pieces with his two hands waiting for the armature to fall correctly into the brass bushing.... he waited patiently for the order to pull the trigger on the Dictator in that Communist Island.. The order was never given... he left Byron's scope cross hairs.. sat down and smoked a cigar and had a shot of rum, not a bad idea he thought.
As his knees hurt.. he was getting old....
Byron was Top Gun... an ace... where do you think his name came from.. an Accident? No it was his maneuvers.......... that made him Ace.....
Think Man........ Byron lived with the Officers in their quarters with his Anger Addiction.......... He knew Patton the Prick ......... a prime player on the Chess Board of that war...... he called him Car Wreck.. what a way to go he mused.
He awoke and looked over into his journals pages... they were blank... for he must of burned them in one of the wars... before or after 1869....... he remembered thinking save them.... what the hell for? Pass me a match he lit the diary journal and let it burn right on the night stand... the warmth of the fire actually felt good on that crisp morning, you can still see the soot marks... its an antique now ... nobody knows what happened.... they market the burn marks as character when selling...
Byron The reincarnate was glad within himself as he walked around his Cemetery home... now a wisp... the grounds keepers trailer that sat next door... just outside the fence... was painted blue, how pretty... was it a two bedroom 8'x40' or one? it was old for its time.. but appeared to be maintained....
He looked around ... he could understand the non fighters now ... the peace keepers.. as he remembered having tea with the Miami tribe Indians after they measured his boys foot and made his son a pair of moccasins as a gesture of friendship.. some friends we turned out to be he thought... that sucked a big wet one........ they even came over to dinner and sat at the table with him and his wife he remembers the bands of silver they wore just below and above their elbows.... and how polite they were.. generous .........
Out You Go..........off to Oklahoma ...... or where ever that was they sent you.
The last of them ... prior to their being herded West...... they left their land and fire pits for the deserving white man... how thoughtful....
He grew sick of his battles you know.. as he looked across the fields at his Quaker 'Friends' perhaps he had let them down... he understood better now their sentiments............ a couple of hundred years later.
He got the gist of it now....conscientious objection to all the blood shed... sticking the knife in the lambs neck and watching it bleed out... It did disgust him, though he had done it.......
The Confederates Slaughtered the Union.... in that one battle that had occurred nearby.. he remembered that one too... he nearly got it there... a near miss... ping right my his head and into the tree bark.
Later he helped the black folk sneak up North.. but wondered if it wasn't actually a trick of the bankers to obtain inexpensive labor.... free to starve, being shuffled from one Master to yet another under the guise of freedom... you go girl..........
Many battles lost and won on both sides...... but mainly he remembers his rage...... his anger...
War is tricky to say the least ... in all its flag waving Glory and Guts.......
As he loomed over his own grave... looking watching thinking............ as the sand stone fell apart pieces hitting the dank ground....
Byron could barely make the epitaph out ... something about living a just reward and being such a great guy and all......... a wonderful man... he laughed as he ran his cold fingers along the lettering..
Where was his next battle to be won? Who would Cash in?
and then remembering his own...... 'Dying in the nearby battle of 1869.........'
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Barn Door Flaps and Sink Rate
Byron offers yet more flying lesson savvy .............
How weird can weird get in real life?
Try taking off with full flaps.. it can be done... well at least in the Cessna he was in.
Its easy just do touch and goes and don't retract the flaps on the go around...
Trundle down the runway with full flaps and full power wondering why the plane does not want to lift off...
As as you see the end of the runway approaching rotate..... it will go up.. stall horn blaring...
Then.. Milk the Flaps ups ever sooooooo slowly while grimacing ........ a little bit at a time... you don't want to feel the sink rate in the pit of your stomach ideally as you are inches above the tree tops
.. and you might wind up a ball of fire on the ground below.
Think later , Seems so and so was born a hypocrite........ I don't see it in the Pilots Operating Handbook anywhere.
Oh its been a really really long day.. you should not have stayed up all night drinking.....
Forrest suggests...... you not try this technique.... but it can be done and you probably won't see it demonstrated at any air shows........
Barn Door Flaps and Sink Rate.
How weird can weird get in real life?
Try taking off with full flaps.. it can be done... well at least in the Cessna he was in.
Its easy just do touch and goes and don't retract the flaps on the go around...
Trundle down the runway with full flaps and full power wondering why the plane does not want to lift off...
As as you see the end of the runway approaching rotate..... it will go up.. stall horn blaring...
Then.. Milk the Flaps ups ever sooooooo slowly while grimacing ........ a little bit at a time... you don't want to feel the sink rate in the pit of your stomach ideally as you are inches above the tree tops
.. and you might wind up a ball of fire on the ground below.
Think later , Seems so and so was born a hypocrite........ I don't see it in the Pilots Operating Handbook anywhere.
Oh its been a really really long day.. you should not have stayed up all night drinking.....
Forrest suggests...... you not try this technique.... but it can be done and you probably won't see it demonstrated at any air shows........
Barn Door Flaps and Sink Rate.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
The Orange And White Cessna.
Forrest had rented it out in Arizona... it had a cracked cylinder they found out later ... it was a hot day.. and he was with his girlfriend .. the density altitude was up there....
Off the end of the runway they went... under the high tension power lines and dodging the Palo Verde branches they are such a pretty color of green but not his very favorite...
Wheee............................
Well there is a clearing... I will be, plop..... a good landing, no damage really just some scratches on the paint out toward the wing tips....
Good low level steering old boy... he complimented himself.
Then it really gets weird........
His cell phone was dead... he wanted to call the rightful owner to assure himself that he the owner did not think Byron had stolen the vessel and secondly to inform them they were o.k.. and where the plane was located and that they had not crashed and lay dead somewhere... two primary concerns.... if not three.
So his girlfriend next came along in her older 25' motor home... nice and cozy it was...
That bitch kicked him out in some desolate desert town... drove off... left him with his dead cell phone and two mewing little kittens... black cats not yet grown.
He was carrying the kittens in his hands... they got all sweaty making pools of sweat.... the poor things he thought... but where to put them? Looking for shade.
He was good and lost now out in this desert town... With No destination... two demanding kittens and no where to go but forward... people really were not all that friendly especially towards introverts not spending money....... perfect it was he thought.
He kept looking for his Girlfriend where oh where was she... .. and her motor home.. looking up and down and all around...there were lots of them around there in Southern Arizona... but alas non were hers.
Boo Hoo.
He even wandered into a store looking.. the kittens struggling to get away from him all the while.... the battery was completely gone in his phone now.... not just dead.. but not there period.
He could not read the Charts they were all upside down and he did not want to take the time either.. what for?.... and all these feelings of responsibilities... he could not abandoned the little struggling kittens.... after all they were so helpless, even though they wanted away.
The only thing he had left were the feelings of responsibility... mixed with guilt, like a can of mixed nuts.. he supposed,
However he did come up with a question This:
About , feelings of responsibility mixed with guilt...... Where do they begin and where do they end?
FLY CESSNA in the cool of the morning.
The Orange and White Cessna.
Off the end of the runway they went... under the high tension power lines and dodging the Palo Verde branches they are such a pretty color of green but not his very favorite...
Wheee............................
Well there is a clearing... I will be, plop..... a good landing, no damage really just some scratches on the paint out toward the wing tips....
Good low level steering old boy... he complimented himself.
Then it really gets weird........
His cell phone was dead... he wanted to call the rightful owner to assure himself that he the owner did not think Byron had stolen the vessel and secondly to inform them they were o.k.. and where the plane was located and that they had not crashed and lay dead somewhere... two primary concerns.... if not three.
So his girlfriend next came along in her older 25' motor home... nice and cozy it was...
That bitch kicked him out in some desolate desert town... drove off... left him with his dead cell phone and two mewing little kittens... black cats not yet grown.
He was carrying the kittens in his hands... they got all sweaty making pools of sweat.... the poor things he thought... but where to put them? Looking for shade.
He was good and lost now out in this desert town... With No destination... two demanding kittens and no where to go but forward... people really were not all that friendly especially towards introverts not spending money....... perfect it was he thought.
He kept looking for his Girlfriend where oh where was she... .. and her motor home.. looking up and down and all around...there were lots of them around there in Southern Arizona... but alas non were hers.
Boo Hoo.
He even wandered into a store looking.. the kittens struggling to get away from him all the while.... the battery was completely gone in his phone now.... not just dead.. but not there period.
He could not read the Charts they were all upside down and he did not want to take the time either.. what for?.... and all these feelings of responsibilities... he could not abandoned the little struggling kittens.... after all they were so helpless, even though they wanted away.
The only thing he had left were the feelings of responsibility... mixed with guilt, like a can of mixed nuts.. he supposed,
However he did come up with a question This:
About , feelings of responsibility mixed with guilt...... Where do they begin and where do they end?
FLY CESSNA in the cool of the morning.
The Orange and White Cessna.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Bernoullis Theory
Barbi Dolls and Kens Marching through a field by the tens of thousands:
OOps! Where are you when the big moment comes?
Frozen Pictures in a cameras Frame:
The focus button is out of time and the picture is taken in black and white... how do you select color?...maybe black and white is better for this occasion anyway?
Maybe the picture will come out good by accident, the camera was in the hands of a fool or just the inexperienced.... he could get lucky... He supposed..............
The Blitzkrieg or the battle of the cameras delayed shutter speed laid in retrospect.
The big fast knife that kills:
Professor where art thou?
The theory of flight or principle.... even with all the fancy gizmos etc... stall spin accidents and flight from V.F.R. into I.M.C. are the leading cause of the carnage of human flesh... still, just ask Jon Jon Kennedy.
Bernoulis Theory is something to go on but, Byron is not entirely convinced it is true 100% .. he could never visualize for instance a sail boats sail working on the same principle... even a sheet of plywood or a door will fly with enough horsepower... or in the case of the sail or vertical wing...WIND.
Theory of flight, angle of attack... airspeed... and the idea an airfoil can be stalled at any airspeed... that was enough reason for him to avoid abrupt movements of control inputs, and steep turns close to the ground.
It was like the Red and White Cessna with no right door.. sitting on the grass strip... out of license.. and in very poor condition... it ran and was supposed to just be used to practice taxiing ..........
Byron was hanging on the strut outside and had a foot on the boarding step, when his instrument rated friend thought it would be fun and lifted off and began a climb out...into ground effect...
it scared the tar out of poor old Forrest... he managed to climb in... and fasten the damaged seat belt buckle...they had almost no rate of climb...
Forrest twisted out the mixture and managed to eek out another 150-200 r.p.m. out of the engine making the difference between no climb and just a little... next they had to make a shallow turn up into a blind canyon for there was no where else to go, and then execute a 180 degree turn with out stalling the airplane or wing, a decision had to be made.. which blind canyon to fly up next.... he remembered the slower the ground speed or track... the least distance required to make a turn.. the lessening of the circumference so to speak bearing that in mind and also that the stall warn horn was broken, it sounded like a Kazoo....
Byron searched out the widest spot he could see up ahead... and ever so carefully with the airspeed needle bouncing just above the indicated stall speed.. turned into the wind.... with precious little altitude left below and sheer walls on either side.. he just managed a 180 degree turn in front of the opposing wall then the easy flight over falling terrain back to the strip and landed averting the bloody stall spin carnage... or flying straight into the river... his second choice.. that perhaps could or should have been his first choice certainly preferable to the Stall Spin no doubt... but..... he pulled it off... like a dirty sock.. you old dog he figured.
He managed to keep most the bank out of it... and sneaked it around with rudder and dumping the nose almost but not hitting the terrain below and .. just missing the opposing canyon wall...He made it... his friend too...
Just sitting there with a suicidal fixed smile fixed on his face.
Had he been higher an immelman... perhaps could have been useful if he knew how to do one or he could learn real fast..... He was afraid the glass cockpit would of been of little use even if he had one and.. even for all the dollars and cents they cost, the displays in this situation would be like so many diamonds smashed in the rocks below.... Seat of the Pants....... flying that was for him.
Tweaking the mixture... and a delicate touch averted the carnage of a stall spin accident, they made it back alive and landed with no brakes... they did not work anyway.
The following day... the first swallow of coffee in the morning tasted so good as his clothes dried in the breeze.... on the clothesline next to the Picnic table... and the tied down Cessna that was not supposed to fly but did that they sneaked off in....the day before... his friend had almost done him in.
Byrons suggests you read up about Bernoullis Theory or Principle and well.... decide for yourself...
He always has found it amusing that an airplane fly's on a Theory anyway..... even today's most sophisticated. Common knowledge remains archaic right into space flight... Mr. Byron holds an opinion, don't you think so too?
So you see or not....... its not all about horsepower and money.
Forrest Byron takes a jab or a slant at it.
Bernoullis Theory.
OOps! Where are you when the big moment comes?
Frozen Pictures in a cameras Frame:
The focus button is out of time and the picture is taken in black and white... how do you select color?...maybe black and white is better for this occasion anyway?
Maybe the picture will come out good by accident, the camera was in the hands of a fool or just the inexperienced.... he could get lucky... He supposed..............
The Blitzkrieg or the battle of the cameras delayed shutter speed laid in retrospect.
The big fast knife that kills:
Professor where art thou?
The theory of flight or principle.... even with all the fancy gizmos etc... stall spin accidents and flight from V.F.R. into I.M.C. are the leading cause of the carnage of human flesh... still, just ask Jon Jon Kennedy.
Bernoulis Theory is something to go on but, Byron is not entirely convinced it is true 100% .. he could never visualize for instance a sail boats sail working on the same principle... even a sheet of plywood or a door will fly with enough horsepower... or in the case of the sail or vertical wing...WIND.
Theory of flight, angle of attack... airspeed... and the idea an airfoil can be stalled at any airspeed... that was enough reason for him to avoid abrupt movements of control inputs, and steep turns close to the ground.
It was like the Red and White Cessna with no right door.. sitting on the grass strip... out of license.. and in very poor condition... it ran and was supposed to just be used to practice taxiing ..........
Byron was hanging on the strut outside and had a foot on the boarding step, when his instrument rated friend thought it would be fun and lifted off and began a climb out...into ground effect...
it scared the tar out of poor old Forrest... he managed to climb in... and fasten the damaged seat belt buckle...they had almost no rate of climb...
Forrest twisted out the mixture and managed to eek out another 150-200 r.p.m. out of the engine making the difference between no climb and just a little... next they had to make a shallow turn up into a blind canyon for there was no where else to go, and then execute a 180 degree turn with out stalling the airplane or wing, a decision had to be made.. which blind canyon to fly up next.... he remembered the slower the ground speed or track... the least distance required to make a turn.. the lessening of the circumference so to speak bearing that in mind and also that the stall warn horn was broken, it sounded like a Kazoo....
Byron searched out the widest spot he could see up ahead... and ever so carefully with the airspeed needle bouncing just above the indicated stall speed.. turned into the wind.... with precious little altitude left below and sheer walls on either side.. he just managed a 180 degree turn in front of the opposing wall then the easy flight over falling terrain back to the strip and landed averting the bloody stall spin carnage... or flying straight into the river... his second choice.. that perhaps could or should have been his first choice certainly preferable to the Stall Spin no doubt... but..... he pulled it off... like a dirty sock.. you old dog he figured.
He managed to keep most the bank out of it... and sneaked it around with rudder and dumping the nose almost but not hitting the terrain below and .. just missing the opposing canyon wall...He made it... his friend too...
Just sitting there with a suicidal fixed smile fixed on his face.
Had he been higher an immelman... perhaps could have been useful if he knew how to do one or he could learn real fast..... He was afraid the glass cockpit would of been of little use even if he had one and.. even for all the dollars and cents they cost, the displays in this situation would be like so many diamonds smashed in the rocks below.... Seat of the Pants....... flying that was for him.
Tweaking the mixture... and a delicate touch averted the carnage of a stall spin accident, they made it back alive and landed with no brakes... they did not work anyway.
The following day... the first swallow of coffee in the morning tasted so good as his clothes dried in the breeze.... on the clothesline next to the Picnic table... and the tied down Cessna that was not supposed to fly but did that they sneaked off in....the day before... his friend had almost done him in.
Byrons suggests you read up about Bernoullis Theory or Principle and well.... decide for yourself...
He always has found it amusing that an airplane fly's on a Theory anyway..... even today's most sophisticated. Common knowledge remains archaic right into space flight... Mr. Byron holds an opinion, don't you think so too?
So you see or not....... its not all about horsepower and money.
Forrest Byron takes a jab or a slant at it.
Bernoullis Theory.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Bouncing it off
Forrest Byron was remembering meeting an old man once... up in Northern Arizona somewhere... hell if he can remember where exactly ... but the old man used to restore Taylor Crafts.... see the way Forrest figures the old day flyers are pretty much gone.... he sort of felt.. he was holding on to the very tail end of that comet tail himself.
Anyway......... the old man told him about bouncing off.... if he were going out of a short strip and had fear of running out of runway .. they would build a mound... maybe like the equivalent to today's speed bump in an apartment complex parking lot, but near the end of the runway.. that way if the plane would not get air born by that point.... powering along he would plow into the bump and the spring loaded landing gear would bounce them up into ground effect... then you could drop the nose and accelerate in ground effect off the end of the runway over who knows what? and ... gain flying speed and then climb out....an interesting maneuver no doubt ... Byron some how doubts it is being taught in today's flight schools.
Bouncing it off.
Forrest Byron
Anyway......... the old man told him about bouncing off.... if he were going out of a short strip and had fear of running out of runway .. they would build a mound... maybe like the equivalent to today's speed bump in an apartment complex parking lot, but near the end of the runway.. that way if the plane would not get air born by that point.... powering along he would plow into the bump and the spring loaded landing gear would bounce them up into ground effect... then you could drop the nose and accelerate in ground effect off the end of the runway over who knows what? and ... gain flying speed and then climb out....an interesting maneuver no doubt ... Byron some how doubts it is being taught in today's flight schools.
Bouncing it off.
Forrest Byron
Friday, January 8, 2016
On Vertical Wing ZEE ZZajuar...........
Forrest is a Pirate too... I I I.... mean he knows how to drive a Sailboat: Excuse him:
I don't think he is really all that good at it... but he knows his limitations .. and if he goes past them well he is learning then.
He had a nice old boat once, well more then one, but one he used more then the others I suppose you could say...the one he went to Cuba in a couple of times before Bush signed the Executive Decree depriving him and others of their basic fundamental Constitutional rights to exercise freedom of movement..
He was not slacker though he covered his ass with a Humanitarian Aid License to enter Cuba of course with the U.S. Coast Guards Blessings... you know you inform them the approximate time you are going to penetrate the military defense zone and at what coordinates .. so they can meet you there and pilfer your boat and question you because you told them where and when you were going to be there.... giving away your position to the opposing forces in a loose sense of the word... pure genius for sure....I don't think Patton would be very proud of Byron maybe even giving him a slap in the face, giving away the very basic tactic of the element of surprise like that.. but in this case Byron was in Charge and thought No big deal.. the Coast Guard guys are o.k they are on our side. in Forrest's book.. they are always polite.. well to Byron anyway... of course he was not an asshole either towards them... most of them young bucks from Oklahoma...
Nothing quite like being 20 miles off of Cuba at 2 A.M. in the morning and seeing a flare go off a mile off on Starboard... and then hearing over the radio in broken Slavic... This is the Jaguar how do you copy.. zis is za zzzjaguar.........za zzzzzjaguar... shit... Byron no likey..... he turned off the running lights... and turned the engine up to full throttle making a bee line for the big steel buoy off of the entrance to the Marina Hemingway still 20 miles away ... looked to him like he was in the direct crossfire of some illegal activity by pure chance.. come dawn he and his crew of Son and Daughter in Law... slipped into the Marina for showers and chow... and of course the delivery of the humanitarian aid......... then off on the Bicycles.
On Vertical win........ Zee ZZajuar...........
I don't think he is really all that good at it... but he knows his limitations .. and if he goes past them well he is learning then.
He had a nice old boat once, well more then one, but one he used more then the others I suppose you could say...the one he went to Cuba in a couple of times before Bush signed the Executive Decree depriving him and others of their basic fundamental Constitutional rights to exercise freedom of movement..
He was not slacker though he covered his ass with a Humanitarian Aid License to enter Cuba of course with the U.S. Coast Guards Blessings... you know you inform them the approximate time you are going to penetrate the military defense zone and at what coordinates .. so they can meet you there and pilfer your boat and question you because you told them where and when you were going to be there.... giving away your position to the opposing forces in a loose sense of the word... pure genius for sure....I don't think Patton would be very proud of Byron maybe even giving him a slap in the face, giving away the very basic tactic of the element of surprise like that.. but in this case Byron was in Charge and thought No big deal.. the Coast Guard guys are o.k they are on our side. in Forrest's book.. they are always polite.. well to Byron anyway... of course he was not an asshole either towards them... most of them young bucks from Oklahoma...
Nothing quite like being 20 miles off of Cuba at 2 A.M. in the morning and seeing a flare go off a mile off on Starboard... and then hearing over the radio in broken Slavic... This is the Jaguar how do you copy.. zis is za zzzjaguar.........za zzzzzjaguar... shit... Byron no likey..... he turned off the running lights... and turned the engine up to full throttle making a bee line for the big steel buoy off of the entrance to the Marina Hemingway still 20 miles away ... looked to him like he was in the direct crossfire of some illegal activity by pure chance.. come dawn he and his crew of Son and Daughter in Law... slipped into the Marina for showers and chow... and of course the delivery of the humanitarian aid......... then off on the Bicycles.
On Vertical win........ Zee ZZajuar...........
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Byron gets a chrome plated .45 pulled on his Ass In Oblivion.
Testing the engine......... was it done right? Wheeeeeeeeeee!
It was a Joy ride... into Oblivion: Byron cleared Customs at Bimini and got his cruising Permit /Transire.
It was early afternoon and he really was hoping to make Matthew Town by dark....
He was sliding along at 500' just about sunset by the Cliffs of Cat Island... the way the setting sun was reflecting on the cliffs as he looked out the left side of the plane ... the scene was indescribable ... such fire of beauty..... 2nd or 3rd most beautiful sight he ever laid eyes on....... even still to this day.........
Well Hells bells... Byron thought to himself , not gonna make Matthew Town by Sunset... guess its Cat.
A couple of years earlier he was delivering a plane and spent the night and a day or two on Cat Island, he rented a bug and drove to the farthest northern tip of the Island there was an old wooden house on a pristine cove with a powder sugar white sand beach and the water a turquoise a glory color that is hard to describe... it was an old wooden house there and a place where Neville Chamberlain once lived.. or so he was told.. it was quite rotten and had enormous ant nests inside... but what a location..... spectacular.
This day he was in the area once again and The sun was setting and there is no V.F.R. supposedly after Dark in the Bahamas... and no runway lights... or smudge pots , most places... he thought quickly... well it was either Arthur Town, Cutlass Bay or Hawks Nest on CAT... he shot for the middle and into Cutlass Bay... he taxied up onto the apron and parked under the sole sodium light that was atop a high pole... shit... nobody around.. he got out and walked down the Queens highway into a little local village.. only one lone barking dog in the distance and nobody around like some kind of a movie set... kinda weird... what the hell? He walked back to the airport and climbed in the plane and shut the clam shell door on a sweat stained shirt so it would hang to block out the light streaming in the cockpit, Byron admired the real pretty homemade curtain as he tried to get comfortable, smelled good too...as Byron was just starting to snooze.. he heard A big manly voice say....' Who In Der? ' oh man! he peeked out the window and there was this Bahamian Official in a Uniform with what looked to be a Chrome plated .45 drawn out of its holster and he was swinging it back and forth.. a big long shiny barreled bastard glistening under that light... a Dirty Harry Special pointing , and in his general direction too, Good Lord take it easy pal.... Don't shoot!
Byron hollered out " Ebery ting Cool Mon... Yaaaaaaaaa Mon"........ a couple of three times.. the dude ordered Byron out of the plane... Byron once again " Ebery ting Cool Mon........."
What the fuck.... engaging in a lengthy conversation with the Constable and around 3 hours later they were the best of pals.... lets tip a few.... they spoke about a gambit of topics one lastly being about Free Masonry and what the Officers mother had told him about it.
Byron has to go back to Cat Island one day... its his destiny to meet himself there.. and eat a bowl of mutton stew... He is reasonably sure he met himself there in the past... in a parallel dimension... why not? after all it is the Bermuda Triangle....
The next morning Byron flew into Inagua.. and thought how similar Matthew Town looked to what Key West once must have looked like once .. with its square grid patterned streets.. that were still all coral dirt.. flying up into the air and the houses were made of clapboards and still utilized rain catchment and cisterns... while he was there Byron also visited the Flamingo rookery and some caves.... at times there are over 30,000 birds.. and the salt works ... catchy little place by the sea... Matthew Town Proper no tourism much to speak of how nice... The Natives were having some kind of a party with amplified jungle music as he called it, and grilling chicken... he bought 'hims' self a nice plate of Peas and rice and and dumped a bunch of ketchup and hot sauce on it..... he was the only white man for miles.. Byron strolled freely about the Island community no fears whatsoever . You can see the mountains of Haiti off in the distance on a clear day........ The following Hazy Day it was... poor visibility Byron was over Jeremie Haiti Looking down through the haze at the red tile roofs... and hoping he had not made a wrong turn as the navigation transmitters were down what was a G.P.S. you used to have to know how to Navigate........................The Maroons were down there you know?
The Warrior ran like a champ.
However in sharing expertise.
Byron suggests you land well before dark.
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