piston Rings

[karzrus]

At this point in the story there are a number of possible outcomes, most don't end well.


...Waiting

 

[Jimway]

The Flame began his drive toward the barn. I could see the blue tinged exhaust and dirt and gravel and grass being spewed from the old farm truck. I could see the rear end of the truck squirm back and forth and then pick up speed. I picked up speed. It was so glorious to float past the edge of the loft and out into to the air. My heart was pounding. I rocked the wings a little and kicked in a little rudder, 'just like a natural', I thought. The Flame consumed second and third gears and was hurtling forward toward me as I was hurtling toward him. It is quite a ways from the barn to the edge of the meadow. So far in point of fact, that we might have put a little more tension on the cable. The weight of the Bear's'cat and it's carefree somewhat dashing playboy pilot was causing the cable to sag toward the ground. So much so that as the Flame and I prepared to pass each other roughly half way between the meadow and the barn, It looked rather grim, rather quickly. The front end of the farm truck started to get bigger and bigger, and closer and closer. Surely he would veer a little sideways to one side or the other. The moment before we occupied the same space in time, I looked forward through the spinning prop and saw the problem. Through the windshield, what I thought was a smile, turned out to be a grimace. The Flame had apparently recognized too that the cable was nearing the ground also and become fixated on the aircraft that was becoming larger and larger and closer and closer in front of him. His eye's were closed for impact. Teeth clenched in a grim smile. His hands on the steering wheel of the old farm truck never moved to the left or right. I'm guessing he must have been approaching 60 to 70 mph. Believing wholeheartedly in a phrase that I had heard somewhere just before being swept into the vortex of some catastrophy, "Big Moves Always Work" I bottomed out the throttle handle and requested 'War Emergency' power from the power plant. I clenched the stick with both leather gloved hands.

 

[1954bmw]

Awl, come on, you can't leave us hangin!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, even the Wright brothers needed a catapult on their first flights. Oh, 2015VXR, I apologize for highjacking your original thread.

 

[Jimway]

Like a prizefighter, I deftly hauled over to the left and then to the right ,on the control stick. Speed and strength of arms no doubt helped by a gush of adrenaline. The fact that the Bear's'cat had only one coat of paint on the bottom of the wing and that the roof of the farm truck had been previously caved in on the passenger side may also have helped avoid catasrophe . Having blew past the middle point of the cable, and the old farm truck, the Bear's'cat was now going back up higher toward the end of the cable that was hooked between the two big trees overlooking the meadow, gaining altitude at a reassuring gait. I shot a quick glimpse back and there was the Flame's face in the rear window of the farm truck, a hand on each side, palms flat on the glass. He looked a little 'green around the gills' heh heh, I thought. I was approaching the unhook point where the pilot was to pull a piece of twine that was attached to a bolt that held the Bear's'cat to a clevis on the rope that hung down from the trolley. As the end of the cable was approaching really fast, I pulled on the twine which promptly broke. I snuck a quick glance up at the trolley and was surprised to see sparks and smoke trailing from it. There wasn't enough time to become concerned about what might happen next as the end of the cable arrived. The Bear's'cat was flung upward by the arc of the rope hanging down until the rope separated in a puff of dust. The bear's'cat was in free flight. No one will ever know how long we flew because time ceased to exist at that moment. The Bear's'cat and I combined into one throbbing entity suspended in infinity. There was nothing but sky in front of me as I carefully eased the stick to the right and kicked in a little right rudder. The smoking trolley flew past just on my left.

 

[Jimway]

Scrunched down in the cockpit, I shot a quick glance back over my right shoulder, my nose nearly touching my shoulder. A cloud of dust hung in the air all of the way from one end of the field to the barn and there was a large puff of dust arising from the far side of the barn. The farm truck was no where in sight. I turned my head back forward and was surprised to see a tree up at the same altitude as me. At first, the tree looked friendly and even benevolent. As it got closer though, it looked angry as it reached up and hit me right in the face. Some time elapsed until I was awake again. The men were just getting back from Eastern Washington. The first inkling that the game was afoot was the old farm truck emerging from the barn at full speed. Thank goodness that it missed the rose garden. It didn't miss the utility pole, where it left the front and rear fenders and running board, all from the passenger side. It cleared the ditch on the opposite side of the road and ground to a halt on it's passenger side about 300 feet out into the hay field. Suspicion almost instantaneously centered on me. Apparently (I found out a bunch of this stuff later), the Flame told the men that I would be right back. As luck would have it, daffy Mrs. Williams from the other side of town, had seen me go into the trees as she was walking one of her dogs. She called down to the general store looking for the whereabouts of the Sheriff, and breathlessly relating to the fact that she had seen a plane crash down by the meadow West of town. Smoke arising from that general direction seemed to confirm her questionable report. The red hot sparking trolley had started a small brush fire where it came to rest after flying off of the cable. Shortly, the volunteer fire department siren started to wail. It being a slow day in town like most days, everybody began to converge upon the meadow to see the crash and help put out the brush fire before it engulfed the town on account of it being tinder dry that time of year. It was some time before the upside down plane wreckage was sighted. I came to as Uncle Si was pushing my nose back to its proper place in between my eyes. "He aint dead, he's still breathin". "Where's all the blood comin from"? asked another Uncle. "Big gash on his head" came the answer. "Better see if ya can find Doc Jones" (Jones Equine Hospital and small animal clinic) directed Uncle Si. "Am I still here"? I asked. They looked down and smiled. "My arm don't work" I added. "That's cause its broke" Grandpa stated. "Granma aint gonna like this" I said. to Grampa. "You aint just whistlin Dixie" he said. The Flame began to matter of factley relate our exploits, all the while keeping at least one hand covering his bottom like he was afraid he was going to be paddled or more likely, as I suspected, he might be hiding a stain on the rear portion of his 'lucky pants'. The neighbors and townsfolk oood and aahhd over the crash site and what was left of the Bear's'cat. As I was being carried away, there was a lot of head shaking going on and looks of increadulity but no one could deny that the Bear's'cat had flown clear across the meadow. For the most part, I have been interested in keeping both feet pretty close to the ground ever since then.