We're all okay
Original story written to A. F.
Just three hours ago, I was in an airplane thinking about writing you my story from today. I thought it would be one to end in catastrophe. Praise God that it does not end so.
As i wrote you last night, we flew out of Lasalle/Peru at around 4:15AM to a small airport in Morris. Our mission was to meet two men and fly them to an auction in Toledo, Ohio. We arrived there at 4:50 and waited--firstly, for the employee of the owner of company, and secondly, for the owner of the company himself who, under the influence of booze and fatigue, slept in until his employee woke him via cell phone. Needless to say, I am very glad that Mr. Employee was invited and came this early morn, ere we get too cold at four below and give up on our client!
A seemingly perpetual sunrise dazzled on the eastern horizon for the hour and ten minute flight to Toledo. Tim and I went to Bob Evans for breakfast-my second for the day, first one being at 3AM-then hung out at the general aviation lounge until 2:00. I caught a small power nap and read I, Isaac and a couple other magazines to pass the time.
It was on the trip back home that things turned really eventful.
Back at Morris, Tim made a smooth touchdown made sweeter by the rousing applause from the passengers. The smiles their cheers induced would be our last until the next time we have our feet sturdily on the ground.
As we climbed out of Morris, we were feeling quite content with our braving the cold through a long but accomplished day. Now we just fly home casually and rest from it. The airplane had different plans for us, however: as Tim retracted the landing gear, a reutein procedure after takeoff, a sudden loud bang resounded above all the other noise, and the accompanying shiver through the airplane's metallic frame resonated up my backbone. Tim and I looked each other straight in the eye with puzzled amazement. Whatever that anomaly was, it was not a sign of something good.
On the engine on Tim's side is a little mirror in which the pilot can see the nosewheel strut. In it, Tim could see that the nosewheel, while the other two were retracted, was hanging at a 45-degree angle. As we went through the list of possibilities, we were to assume the worst. That is, part of the linkage holding the nose gear in place sheared off somehow. So when one assumes the worst, one plans for the worst. Our plan was to try and extend the gear and hope that the three green lights, indicating all the landing gear are safely down and locked, illuminate. No matter the results of that attempt, the contingency plan was to land the plane as if the nose gear would collapse upon contact with the ground. My role was to shut down the engines a few seconds before landing so the propellers would be stopped before the theoretical collapse of the nose gear. This would save over 100 grand in engine repairs. Tim's role was to make the most gentle landing in his ability so that the nosegear has a chance to stay down.
Thankfully, Tim actuated the gear-down switch, and all the lights shined in brilliant, soothing green, yet we were not to take that for granted. I prayed for us that God would allow that nosegear to stay put and for Tim to make the landing that this situation demanded.
Our landing went as planned. I shut down the engines, and the props were stopped within the amazing seven seconds that Tim held the nosewheel off the runway. Then it touched, and we continued to roll down the runway. We were alright, the airplane was alright, and another story of my adventurous life came to a close.
As for the actual problem, none of the four experienced mechanics really know what happened up there. Little damage is present in the wheel well, and the source of the bang we heard is a mystery.
I spent a few minutes in reflection and introspection afterward. I was a little afraid in those unusual moments. I wasn't fearing for my life but for the airplane. I had been in a unplanned crash before and came out alright by God's grace, so certainly a planned crash was going to be a threat to not even a hair on my head. I was afraid of the consequences of that nose wheel collapsing: a bashed-in nose cone, bent propellers, explaining this to the FAA and insurance companies, getting hazed by the FAA, and the downtime and repair of the airplane. As i look back on it now, I did make the wrong choice of thoughts. One lesson a pilot needs to learn as he enters an airplane is to leave fears on the ground. For the endurance of the flight, the objective is to give all attention to the business of flying the airplane and to bring it back on the ground safely so that everyone can go home at the end of the day. No matter what that simple end demands, it must be met. Fear is an obstacle to clear perceptions, sound judgment and sharp motor skills, and it has no place in the mind of a person flying an airplane. I've read of a pilot promising himself a good "fear bath" at the end of an airplane crisis. That is a good way to help defer and avoid being influenced by fear.
I see here too a parallel of our spiritual life. Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow because the evil of day is sufficient thereto. As a pilot must leave fears on the ground so his pilot skills and judgment won't be marred, we as Christians need to leave fears in the hands of God, for all we really need to do is give our attention to the affairs of our daily life and end each day safe at home. "Cast your cares on Him, for he cares for you." God creates us all unto good works and that in our lives we might magnify Him, and I beleive that God sets His unique objective for us in our hearts, and we need to just leave our fears in His hands, carry out God's will for our lives, and go home safe each night, knowing that, ultimately, will come a day when we will not make it to our home on earth.
And oh, what a day of rejoicing that will be!!
Just three hours ago, I was in an airplane thinking about writing you my story from today. I thought it would be one to end in catastrophe. Praise God that it does not end so.
As i wrote you last night, we flew out of Lasalle/Peru at around 4:15AM to a small airport in Morris. Our mission was to meet two men and fly them to an auction in Toledo, Ohio. We arrived there at 4:50 and waited--firstly, for the employee of the owner of company, and secondly, for the owner of the company himself who, under the influence of booze and fatigue, slept in until his employee woke him via cell phone. Needless to say, I am very glad that Mr. Employee was invited and came this early morn, ere we get too cold at four below and give up on our client!
A seemingly perpetual sunrise dazzled on the eastern horizon for the hour and ten minute flight to Toledo. Tim and I went to Bob Evans for breakfast-my second for the day, first one being at 3AM-then hung out at the general aviation lounge until 2:00. I caught a small power nap and read I, Isaac and a couple other magazines to pass the time.
It was on the trip back home that things turned really eventful.
Back at Morris, Tim made a smooth touchdown made sweeter by the rousing applause from the passengers. The smiles their cheers induced would be our last until the next time we have our feet sturdily on the ground.
As we climbed out of Morris, we were feeling quite content with our braving the cold through a long but accomplished day. Now we just fly home casually and rest from it. The airplane had different plans for us, however: as Tim retracted the landing gear, a reutein procedure after takeoff, a sudden loud bang resounded above all the other noise, and the accompanying shiver through the airplane's metallic frame resonated up my backbone. Tim and I looked each other straight in the eye with puzzled amazement. Whatever that anomaly was, it was not a sign of something good.
On the engine on Tim's side is a little mirror in which the pilot can see the nosewheel strut. In it, Tim could see that the nosewheel, while the other two were retracted, was hanging at a 45-degree angle. As we went through the list of possibilities, we were to assume the worst. That is, part of the linkage holding the nose gear in place sheared off somehow. So when one assumes the worst, one plans for the worst. Our plan was to try and extend the gear and hope that the three green lights, indicating all the landing gear are safely down and locked, illuminate. No matter the results of that attempt, the contingency plan was to land the plane as if the nose gear would collapse upon contact with the ground. My role was to shut down the engines a few seconds before landing so the propellers would be stopped before the theoretical collapse of the nose gear. This would save over 100 grand in engine repairs. Tim's role was to make the most gentle landing in his ability so that the nosegear has a chance to stay down.
Thankfully, Tim actuated the gear-down switch, and all the lights shined in brilliant, soothing green, yet we were not to take that for granted. I prayed for us that God would allow that nosegear to stay put and for Tim to make the landing that this situation demanded.
Our landing went as planned. I shut down the engines, and the props were stopped within the amazing seven seconds that Tim held the nosewheel off the runway. Then it touched, and we continued to roll down the runway. We were alright, the airplane was alright, and another story of my adventurous life came to a close.
As for the actual problem, none of the four experienced mechanics really know what happened up there. Little damage is present in the wheel well, and the source of the bang we heard is a mystery.
I spent a few minutes in reflection and introspection afterward. I was a little afraid in those unusual moments. I wasn't fearing for my life but for the airplane. I had been in a unplanned crash before and came out alright by God's grace, so certainly a planned crash was going to be a threat to not even a hair on my head. I was afraid of the consequences of that nose wheel collapsing: a bashed-in nose cone, bent propellers, explaining this to the FAA and insurance companies, getting hazed by the FAA, and the downtime and repair of the airplane. As i look back on it now, I did make the wrong choice of thoughts. One lesson a pilot needs to learn as he enters an airplane is to leave fears on the ground. For the endurance of the flight, the objective is to give all attention to the business of flying the airplane and to bring it back on the ground safely so that everyone can go home at the end of the day. No matter what that simple end demands, it must be met. Fear is an obstacle to clear perceptions, sound judgment and sharp motor skills, and it has no place in the mind of a person flying an airplane. I've read of a pilot promising himself a good "fear bath" at the end of an airplane crisis. That is a good way to help defer and avoid being influenced by fear.
I see here too a parallel of our spiritual life. Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow because the evil of day is sufficient thereto. As a pilot must leave fears on the ground so his pilot skills and judgment won't be marred, we as Christians need to leave fears in the hands of God, for all we really need to do is give our attention to the affairs of our daily life and end each day safe at home. "Cast your cares on Him, for he cares for you." God creates us all unto good works and that in our lives we might magnify Him, and I beleive that God sets His unique objective for us in our hearts, and we need to just leave our fears in His hands, carry out God's will for our lives, and go home safe each night, knowing that, ultimately, will come a day when we will not make it to our home on earth.
And oh, what a day of rejoicing that will be!!
posted by Radar | 6:29 PM
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