… how I learned about flying… (part 6)
Half-way through the barrel-roll and things were going well - an upside-down Buckinghamshire portrayed as a patchwork of yellow, green and brown dissected by black and grey veins…
… smudged only by the occasional car…
I was flat on my back - fixed by safety harness and the half-G or so maintained by the centrifugal force at the top of the barrel roll. The sudden, unscheduled and unexpected maneuver, my left hand still on the control stick - resulted in puling the aircraft into a flick roll which developed into a fast fully-fledged spin. Now - instead of seeing the ground through the Perspex roof of the canopy the windscreen in front of me was filled with the rapidly spinning version…
… of the home counties scenery…
Much like a rotating Google map - but rapidly getting closer. The rear of my car-type folding seat had collapsed. I was unable to sit upright unless I supported myself with my right hand holding onto the passenger seat - not the best way of practicing unscheduled spin recovery in an airplane…
… I had never spun it before… just incipient spins in air tests…
Back in straight and level flight - I checked all my instruments. The accelerometer telltale indicator was reading high, but not quite as high as the Falco’s six G-limit, so all was good. No problem - at least until I returned to the airfield where the handicap of having to use only my left hand - due to the necessity of using my right one to hold my self upright…
…might prove embarrassing…
Realising I could let go for a few moments using my back muscles instead of the seat back - was a help, but the main problem was - unlike in more modern machines, my Falco’s brakes were operated only by a single bar situated between the two rudder pedals, rather than the conventional two brake pedal arrangement. Additionally…
… it required quite a lot of pressure to be effective.
… and the collapsed seat back would not permit me to give it too much pressure.
It seemed to me time to call on some of the benefits I could expect from my monthly landing fees and parking charges.
‘Booker Tower - this is Golf Foxtrot Alfa Lima Charlie.’ I transmitted.
‘Lima Charlie - go ahead.’ The controller answered.
‘Lima Charlie - I have a small problem… My seat back has collapsed so could you roll out the crash wagon, as I might not have full use of the brakes'.
Unknown to me at the time… my wife, Celia - then learning to fly - was flying circuits in a Cessna 150 with her instructor, an ex-RAF Group Captain. Later - as related by the Group Captain - 'she had stayed calm and unconcerned…'
… I was proud of her…
In my twenty plus years owning and flying the Falco for more than two thousand hours - she - the Falco, I mean - never once tried to kill me. Although there were times - two or three partial engine failures as valves hit pistons during race practice - two instances where undercarriage legs failed… little things - as she tested me and kept me from becoming complacent. In human terms, she was the perfect lover - demanding, attention seeking…
… requiring the utmost care and sensitivity…
But never a serious threat…
© Peter Hunter 2013
… from Peter Hunter's auto-portrayal - Too Many Miles From A Land Of Rivers
