I didn’t have to worry about the plane exploding. I was “running on empty.” I don’t think an exploding plane would have stopped “Clem.” He was mad.
From the opposite corner of the field his neighbor came running. “Clem, wait! This could be exactly what you need! You can sue him,” he shouted. At this point I was “break necking” – watching the activity between these two men as they formulated a plan for retirement. As it turns out, Clem was 3 years behind on his mortgage and was in foreclosure.
The neighbor had two phones to avoid long distance charges. One phone was tied to Thurston county, and the other to Kitsap county… I landed on “the line”. He went to call the sheriff.
I don’t think he even made it to the phone before the Sheriff had arrived. He followed the silence of the plane which had just flown slowly over the top of him just moments earlier – the lone car on a backwoods stretch of two lane blacktop. The shadow of the plane blocked out the sunshine glimmering off his morning doughnuts. A second later, the plane arced to the left into a stand of trees.
I swear it was only five to ten minutes after the plane plowed Clem’s strawberry field, an armed Sheriff was walking into the field. Clem obviously enjoyed attention, but not the kind brought by the law and he settled down. The Sherriff started the process of contacting my parents and Seattle Flight Service – they were expecting to hear from me as I completed legs of my flight.
My flight instructor periodically would call Seattle Flight Service to status my position while on his way to Yakima. He was told I had been to Auburn, and had left Bellingham. “This is the flight instructor for N11758 – could I get a status on his location?” “We don’t have a flight plan for that plane,” came the response from SFS. “I know he had a flight plan. I was there when he filed it this morning.” “One moment.” “Ah, flight instructor? That plane went down south of Bremerton International.”
I am sure John had this sinking feeling. John was a devoted Christian man, and we talked frequently about our individual beliefs. Jesus saved John. Jesus saved me. John was actually next on the scene.
My parents arrived to pick me up. I know we talked about that day several times over the next weeks. It was mostly business. The deductible was…, there is discussion over who paid how much because what was signed ($250) and what the current contract showed ($500). Dad and the flight club split the difference, and I would be allowed to fly again (under certain restrictions for a while). I am sure the phone call from the Sheriff switchboard was scary. They didn’t have much information other than the plane had crashed, and an address. I am not sure they even told my parents I was unhurt, protected by three simple words. “God help me.”
My dad had to be strong for my mother because I am sure she was a wreck the whole two plus hours of drive time. He was genuinely loving and concerned. He didn’t scold. I am sure he was scared, but he had to pretend he was doing well to help my mother deal with the fact their son could have died in a single moment that morning (statement adapted from Anne Lamott – Traveling Mercies).
The Federal Aviation Administration defined it as “pilot error.” No kidding. Four hours of fuel had turned into two-point-five. I could have “topped off” twice, and I wasn’t watching the gas gauge. I was “running on empty.”
- Craig
From the opposite corner of the field his neighbor came running. “Clem, wait! This could be exactly what you need! You can sue him,” he shouted. At this point I was “break necking” – watching the activity between these two men as they formulated a plan for retirement. As it turns out, Clem was 3 years behind on his mortgage and was in foreclosure.
The neighbor had two phones to avoid long distance charges. One phone was tied to Thurston county, and the other to Kitsap county… I landed on “the line”. He went to call the sheriff.
I don’t think he even made it to the phone before the Sheriff had arrived. He followed the silence of the plane which had just flown slowly over the top of him just moments earlier – the lone car on a backwoods stretch of two lane blacktop. The shadow of the plane blocked out the sunshine glimmering off his morning doughnuts. A second later, the plane arced to the left into a stand of trees.
I swear it was only five to ten minutes after the plane plowed Clem’s strawberry field, an armed Sheriff was walking into the field. Clem obviously enjoyed attention, but not the kind brought by the law and he settled down. The Sherriff started the process of contacting my parents and Seattle Flight Service – they were expecting to hear from me as I completed legs of my flight.
My flight instructor periodically would call Seattle Flight Service to status my position while on his way to Yakima. He was told I had been to Auburn, and had left Bellingham. “This is the flight instructor for N11758 – could I get a status on his location?” “We don’t have a flight plan for that plane,” came the response from SFS. “I know he had a flight plan. I was there when he filed it this morning.” “One moment.” “Ah, flight instructor? That plane went down south of Bremerton International.”
I am sure John had this sinking feeling. John was a devoted Christian man, and we talked frequently about our individual beliefs. Jesus saved John. Jesus saved me. John was actually next on the scene.
My parents arrived to pick me up. I know we talked about that day several times over the next weeks. It was mostly business. The deductible was…, there is discussion over who paid how much because what was signed ($250) and what the current contract showed ($500). Dad and the flight club split the difference, and I would be allowed to fly again (under certain restrictions for a while). I am sure the phone call from the Sheriff switchboard was scary. They didn’t have much information other than the plane had crashed, and an address. I am not sure they even told my parents I was unhurt, protected by three simple words. “God help me.”
My dad had to be strong for my mother because I am sure she was a wreck the whole two plus hours of drive time. He was genuinely loving and concerned. He didn’t scold. I am sure he was scared, but he had to pretend he was doing well to help my mother deal with the fact their son could have died in a single moment that morning (statement adapted from Anne Lamott – Traveling Mercies).
The Federal Aviation Administration defined it as “pilot error.” No kidding. Four hours of fuel had turned into two-point-five. I could have “topped off” twice, and I wasn’t watching the gas gauge. I was “running on empty.”
- Craig
1 comment:
Sometimes we think that we are running on empty, only to find that God has our back. Hugs Cinda
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