I was at my very first flying job in Chester CT, working around the airport as the airport grunt, doing some flying now and then. The owner was Thomas Zhimba. He had a fuse that was so short it was nearly invisible. And he was a big guy too, so when he lost his temper it was truly a scary thing. I worked there for 13 months, which was 12.9 more months than most people. Tom was strict but he taught me everything I know about work ethic. Do it right or go home.
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| Piper Lance |
Well one day Tom tells me I'm to go to Detroit with Lester. Lester was flying the Lance out there to deliver a mechanical thing of some sort, and I was to go along. In Detroit I would pick up a Cessna 172RG, brand new with no radios, and fly it back to Chester so the new owner could get his custom radios installed. So Lester and I took off on a stormy morning and flew to western Massachusetts to pick up the freight. We then headed west to Detroit. Somewhere over the Appalachians we were still in the clouds, no radar, just following the airways like we were supposed to be doing. Then the world outside got darker. The rain got heavier. The turbulence got rougher. The farther we went, the worse it got. Eventually we found ourselves unintentionally in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was dark as night. The rain was so intense there was serious concern whether the windshield would bust. The turbulence was extreme, and we were climbing faster than the VSI could indicate, despite having power back and the nose a little low. We should have been descending like a brick but instead were going upstairs like a rocket. I called ATC and told them we were climbing out of 9000' and I had no idea when we would stop, we couldn't control it. He starts asking around and a USAir flight says they're in the clear, about ten miles ahead. We topped out around 13,000' and then we start descending. With full power and the nose up some, we were still dropping like a rock. I passed this on to ATC also. Now our concern was the mountains below. No idea when this crazy descent would stop, the turbulence made it hard for Lester to just keep the wings level. All of a sudden we popped out of the cloud. All around us were these towering spires of clouds, all gold in the afternoon sun, a sight that so like heaven I asked in all seriousness if we had just died. And Lester didn't laugh. We checked it out for a minute and decided no, we'd just somehow managed to survive that.
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| C-172RG |
We spent the night in Detroit. Lester flew home the next day while I picked up the Cessna 172RG and plotted my course home. I'd head to Buffalo, stop for gas, then head on if the weather was ok. With a green light from the tower I was off for Buffalo Downtown Airpark. When I landed the skies were very cloudy and rainy. Nothing too bad though. I checked the weather and found the cloudiness extended all along my planned route. With no radios I couldn't file an instrument flight plan, so I called Mr Zhimba and said I'd stay the night there. Then I sat down at the FBO table and thought hey, if I'm going to be a commercial pilot, I've got to learn how to fly in this sort of thing. So I pulled out my sectional chart and found a low altitude route through the mountains. I'd fly east to Attica, follow the railroad to here, then follow this interstate through the mountains to the other side, then straight across Connecticut to Chester. With map in hand and the fuel bill paid, I fired up and took off. All went well at first. It was cloudy but not bad. Easy to stay VFR. But as I got further along, the clouds got lower and lower. Eventually I found myself in a valley over the interstate highway below, with hills on both sides extending up into the clouds. The visibility wasn't too bad, and at something less than 500' I was "clear of clouds", so I pressed on. The entire time I had the chart on my lap with my finger on the spot where I was, following my progress mile by mile. Up ahead, the chart showed a tower on the north side of the highway. I crossed to the south side. Zoom, there goes the tower. Ahead, another tower, this time on the south side. I banked over the the other side. Zoom, there goes that tower. At one point the highway split, one going northeast and the other east. I got a little confused and circled this small city, working very hard to keep my orientation while deciding which one I needed to follow. Off I went, following the highway. Tower, obstruction, tower. I moved left and right as needed to avoid them all. Finally I came out on the east side, to much flatter countryside, very hazy but clear weather. I flew to Chester as the sun got low on the horizon, and arrived just after a rain shower had passed. The air was silky smooth. I made the best landing ever, a full stall touchdown on the 2600' runway right were I was supposed to. And nobody saw it. I parked by the fuel pumps and went inside where Tom sat having a St Paulie Girl beer at the end of the day (a Chester Airport tradition). "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Buffalo to meet up with old girlfriends," he asked. "How did the flight go?" and I said "Oh fine, no problem. Just followed a highway through the mountains. Made a nice landing." "Uh huh," he replied, and went back to his paperwork. Tom hated adventures, so I never let on about this one.
