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  • Winter Ops

    Well, there was that stint in the Middle East where I actually wished I could see some nasty cold weather, but that hardly compares to the decades I have spent in the deep freeze waiting for that rat Punxsutawney Phil to decide if winter will end or hang on to add to my misery. What the hell does he know anyway? He’s in Pennsylvania. That’s the “banana belt” in the winter compared to Michigan.

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  • The Onex project continues . . .

    If you build one of these little rockets be prepared to shave things down to 64th’s. Plans were no doubt generated on a computer, and computers find it pretty easy to measure down to the 64th of an inch. Alas, builders do not. If the airplane were built to tight tolerances I could see the point. However measuring the length of the wing flap down to 64th’s of an inch when there is a half inch gap left between flap end and fuselage, seems a bit over zealous.

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  • Lest we forget . . . . .

    It has always boggled my mind. The fact that World War II bombing raids sometimes consisted of upwards of 1000 heavy bombers at a time is just too much for me to comprehend. Imagine the sound of 4000 Wright Cyclones parting the wind overhead all at once! What an impression it must have made to those on the ground when these waves of aluminum passed overhead. 

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  • Justifying the obvious

    Maybe I need my nose hairs to freeze during one more night by the fire. Some say a little nip of quality Bourbon by the fire as the sun goes down is good for you! Maybe the trees won’t be as red or yellow in the fall if I am not there. God forbid the trout should stop rising in the evening or the moon quit being so huge over the swamp or the stars so close on clear nights. What if the Grouse stop drumming in spring? If I’m not at the cabin and the rain bounces off the tin roof, does it make a sound?

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  • Resurrecting a Champ

    “If the day was rainy or drizzly and too bad to fly something else, a joyous afternoon could be had by cranking up the old Champ to cruise the river for miles just enjoying the smell of the av gas and leather and dope and sweat that permeated the soul of that little airplane.”