Teller1900
En-Route
It's been a couple years. It's really hard to believe it has been that long since I last saw one - my first love. It seems like just a few months since the last time I was standing here, outside our heavy maintenance hanger, gazing upon the Mighty Beech. But that time I had just flown it in, and I knew I'd get to fly it again. This time, everything is different.
It's been a couple years. It was one of those brutally cold New England nights. One of those nights when even the faint, crackling voice of the faceless man in BOS Center seems to wonder what we're doing flying right now. We're the only ones on his frequency.
We wondered too as we listened to the familiar woomphfff of the Beech's PT-6 lighting off. Our day was supposed to be done, but they wanted us to ferry our plane to the maintenance base and swap it for a new one. No big deal, it's just the tail end of a Nor'Easter tonight, nothing the Mighty Beech can't handle.
Suddenly the late night, and the guaranteed early morning tomorrow don't matter. The stress at home, the stress at work...it's all gone as we focus on the two needles on the panel, and strain to see through the snow and fog. Minimums, lights in sight. That's the next thing we want to hear
The lead-in lights had done their job, and so had we. We put our trusty ride to bed under an ever-thickening blanket of snow and retreat to the warmth of the hanger. When the door swings open, we're greated with a surprise! Not the dark blue, slightly worn down looking collection of 1900s and 340s that we were expecting, but a bright white, shiny new Q-400! This is the latest and greatest. I had no idea how big it was, I had no idea how nice the seats are, I had no idea how tall that tail is, I had no idea...
We spent hours walking around the "Mighty Q." Staring, taking pictures, pushing buttons that we couldn't identify. This thing was new, and awesome, and we wanted to fly it!
All the while, our 1900 sat outside, in the cold, almost unidentifiable under the snow.
Hours pass, and our "new" plane is finally ready. Out of the white and back into the faded blue, we launch into the black. It's a long ride home in our beloved 1900, but we spend the whole time talking about that gorgeous bird we left in the hangar. What a plane that was.
It's been a couple years. I've been flying that shiny, polished bird for quite a while now. I haven't forgotten about my first love, but I haven't thought much about it in a while, either. This morning is shaping up like any other. It's a little cooler out than I'm used to, but I guess summer is drawing steadily to a close. We show up at the hangar with the sun barely lighting the horizon. Of course our shiny white plane isn't ready for the day's work yet, so I wonder around a bit. On a whim, I decide to take a step outside the front door of the building.
There it is, as if we had just left it the night before. Add a little snow, and this would be deja vu. The Mighty Beech. The last one. "It's leaving this afternoon," the mechanic says, "they'll all be gone." He shakes his head a bit. He loved this plane too.
"Do you mind?" I ask, as I gesture toward the ramp.
"Go ahead" he says, as he turns back to his wrench.
It's smaller than I remember. I knew I couldn't ever stand up in it, but I didn't remember ducking this much. It's lot more of an athletic undertaking to get into the cockpit than it is in the Q. But it just fits so much better once you're in.
This was flying. This is the type of airplane you wear...you become part of. None of that GPS direct where you fly the computer that flies the airplane. In this, it's just two pilots, a VOR, and 880 on the ADF.
This was Rock 'n Roll. I sat next to a captain of a Heavy Boeing one day. He felt the same as I do about his time on the Mighty Beech. "That was an airplane," he seemed to get lost in memory. "Grab a fist-full of throttle, set 3500, and rock!"
I was the last person to sit in ship LVG (affectionately known as Lands Very Good, or Lima Victor Gangster) before it left for the factory in Wichita, marking the absolute end of an era. I was never so happy to be delayed, even if it meant I had to say goodbye.
It's been a couple years. It was one of those brutally cold New England nights. One of those nights when even the faint, crackling voice of the faceless man in BOS Center seems to wonder what we're doing flying right now. We're the only ones on his frequency.
We wondered too as we listened to the familiar woomphfff of the Beech's PT-6 lighting off. Our day was supposed to be done, but they wanted us to ferry our plane to the maintenance base and swap it for a new one. No big deal, it's just the tail end of a Nor'Easter tonight, nothing the Mighty Beech can't handle.
Suddenly the late night, and the guaranteed early morning tomorrow don't matter. The stress at home, the stress at work...it's all gone as we focus on the two needles on the panel, and strain to see through the snow and fog. Minimums, lights in sight. That's the next thing we want to hear
The lead-in lights had done their job, and so had we. We put our trusty ride to bed under an ever-thickening blanket of snow and retreat to the warmth of the hanger. When the door swings open, we're greated with a surprise! Not the dark blue, slightly worn down looking collection of 1900s and 340s that we were expecting, but a bright white, shiny new Q-400! This is the latest and greatest. I had no idea how big it was, I had no idea how nice the seats are, I had no idea how tall that tail is, I had no idea...
We spent hours walking around the "Mighty Q." Staring, taking pictures, pushing buttons that we couldn't identify. This thing was new, and awesome, and we wanted to fly it!
All the while, our 1900 sat outside, in the cold, almost unidentifiable under the snow.
Hours pass, and our "new" plane is finally ready. Out of the white and back into the faded blue, we launch into the black. It's a long ride home in our beloved 1900, but we spend the whole time talking about that gorgeous bird we left in the hangar. What a plane that was.
It's been a couple years. I've been flying that shiny, polished bird for quite a while now. I haven't forgotten about my first love, but I haven't thought much about it in a while, either. This morning is shaping up like any other. It's a little cooler out than I'm used to, but I guess summer is drawing steadily to a close. We show up at the hangar with the sun barely lighting the horizon. Of course our shiny white plane isn't ready for the day's work yet, so I wonder around a bit. On a whim, I decide to take a step outside the front door of the building.
There it is, as if we had just left it the night before. Add a little snow, and this would be deja vu. The Mighty Beech. The last one. "It's leaving this afternoon," the mechanic says, "they'll all be gone." He shakes his head a bit. He loved this plane too.
"Do you mind?" I ask, as I gesture toward the ramp.
"Go ahead" he says, as he turns back to his wrench.
It's smaller than I remember. I knew I couldn't ever stand up in it, but I didn't remember ducking this much. It's lot more of an athletic undertaking to get into the cockpit than it is in the Q. But it just fits so much better once you're in.
This was flying. This is the type of airplane you wear...you become part of. None of that GPS direct where you fly the computer that flies the airplane. In this, it's just two pilots, a VOR, and 880 on the ADF.
This was Rock 'n Roll. I sat next to a captain of a Heavy Boeing one day. He felt the same as I do about his time on the Mighty Beech. "That was an airplane," he seemed to get lost in memory. "Grab a fist-full of throttle, set 3500, and rock!"
I was the last person to sit in ship LVG (affectionately known as Lands Very Good, or Lima Victor Gangster) before it left for the factory in Wichita, marking the absolute end of an era. I was never so happy to be delayed, even if it meant I had to say goodbye.
