It was a typical day in Oregon, Low ceilings with drizzle and about enough visibility to
see the radiator ornament as I drove toward our airport.
I had just soloed the day before and wasn't about to let the weather deter me from another
exciting experience at the controls of an airplane. I admit that I was pretty proud of my
accomplishment, and had invited my next-door neighbor to ride with me. I planned to fly
to a neighboring town about 200 miles away where I knew there was a good restaurant.
On the way to the airport, my neighbor, John Williams, expressed some worry about the trip.
"Don't worry about a thing", I reassured him, "I understand their hamburgers are excellent".
When we arrived at the field, the drizzle had turned to a hard steady rain. This concerned
me a little, as I was wearing my brown and white shoes, and my mother had warned me about
getting them muddy. We checked with the local operator and found that my regular airplane,
a Cessna 120, was down for repairs.
The operator was a good-hearted follow, though, and when he saw my disappointment he assigned
me another one, N3341P, which turned out to be a Piper Apache.
"It's practically the same as a 120", he told me when I discovered there was an extra engine.
"Just remember you have to pull the gear up."
After a pre-flight check of the airplane, I noticed the tail wheel was missing, but didn't say
anything for fear he would cancel the trip. We climbed aboard and began looking for the
starter.
Just then the operator came running out to tell me there was a severe thunderstorm at my
destination and warned me to be careful. I assured him I wasn't afraid of thunderstorms.
The takeoff was uneventful, but we did use what seemed to be a lot of runway for an airplane
with two engines. (I learned later, we had taken off downwind with the parking brake on.)
We climbed into a solid overcast at about 400 feet. This was a bad disappointment, as I knew
John would have been interested in the scenery. The air was pretty smooth, though, and except
for the ice that kept forming over the windshield, there was little to see.
For a pilot with only six hours, I thought I handled the controls pretty smoothly, although,
for some reason things occasionally flew out of my pockets up to the roof.
John didn't seem to notice. In fact, he kept staring straight ahead with sort of a glassy
expression. I guess he was afraid of the height, as some non-pilots are.
After about an hour, I began to be concerned over the fact I could not see anything. It was
going to be difficult to spot other traffic around the airport at our destination, and I hoped
the other pilots would use a little good sense and keep a sharp eye in such bad weather.
It was obvious that I was going to have to get down lower, if I wanted to see anything.
It was too bad that the altimeter was so unreliable. It kept winding and unwinding rapidly,
and I guessed that it hadn't been kept in good repair.
Anyway, following this plan I began to come down. Just then the left engine quit. No warning,
nothing. It just quit. John made a sort of gurgling noise then, and it was about the first
thing he had said since we left. I explained that there was nothing to worry about, as we had
another engine that hadn't even been used yet! So I started the right engine, and John must
have felt better after that, because he went to sleep.
Well, pretty soon we did get down far enough, so that I could see the ground. It was pretty
dark under the clouds, and if it weren't for the lightening flashes, it would have been hard
to find any good landmarks. Then I spotted a highway and remembered there was a highway near
the airport we were headed toward, so I followed it.
It was difficult to read the road signs in all that rain, and I had to stay pretty low. Several
cars ran off the road when we passed them, and I could say it was true about flying being a lot
safer than driving.
After awhile we did find the airport, but l had to fly around the tower a few times to make sure
it was the right one. I didn't want to make a mistake and have everyone know I was a student
pilot. They were very hospitable at the airport and flashed all kinds of colored lights as a
welcome. So I landed and slid up to the parking area. (The operator should have mentioned that
you have to put the gear down -again.) Everybody there was pretty excited. It was easy to see
they had never seen a Piper Apache before. John was still sleeping soundly, and I had to have
help to carry him into the restaurant.
Well, I certainly learned about flying from that, and I want to pass on some good advice to
other student pilots.
Don't believe everything you hear--the food was terrible.
.
