When One Garage Door Closes: Part 5

The next morning was a bit slow for me.  I can't deny that I was feeling a little groggy as everyone shuffled out of their respective sleeping arrangements and a thunder of footsteps echoed through the house as the hustle and bustle ramped up and people got loaded, sorted and caffeinated for the trek to the Dragon.  My pilot and I were shuffling our backpacks and duffle bags, loose helmets and riding gear into support vehicles that would transport our goods to the final meeting spot.  The Ladybird can only support so much weight so in the best interests of maximizing efficiency, we opted to travel as lightly as possible.

We made it to the airstrip and gassed up after checking her oil and conducting other inspections.  I buckled my seat belt and arranged my headset with a nervous but eager grin on my face.  This would be a little longer of a flight and I didn't really know what to expect.  Nor did my pilot, really as he had not flown on this side of the country before.  Our flight was remarkably smooth and uneventful.  Throughout the duration of it, my pilot was giving me some basic co-pilot education in reading aviation maps and understanding airspace codes.  He explained things like IFR and VFR and the limits of what is allowable for safe air travel in an aircraft such as the Ladybird. Meanwhile, I glanced out the window at the landscape and considered possibilities of where we could possibly land if things went south. I mean, that's not all I thought about. I actually felt quite at home in the humble little Ladybird, floating along on her course over unsuspecting housing developments and commercial developments.  As I sat staring out the window, a big part of me felt free from it all, a birds eye view looking down into a world that seems so large and overwhelming at ground level.  It was refreshing, exhilerating, and spiritually liberating. I wondered how much of the world had changed in the years since her production, how much the landscape had changed form and how much of history had fallen behind as the Ladybird charted her course through time.

As we made our final approach toward a mountain range we started scanning the vicinity for the landing strip. My friend checked his map, then his GPS, and then his phone before cranking his radio on to listen to the conditions.  I immediately spotted an interstate and as we banked a slight right to align with the interstate, we noticed the airstrip situated not far from it in the same direction.  "Is that it?"  I pointed out, "Well I'll be damned, hang on to your ta-ta's buddy we're gonna have to make a sharp turn."  I had already whipped out my phone for the landing, but suddenly felt a tinge of nervous apprehension as my pilot initiated a bit more assertive of a stall than he had the day before, and then an immediate tilt to the left. At one point I looked out the side window to see a cow grazing in a grassy pit as we quickly glided overhead.  Looking forward I saw the landing strip and before I could make any sense of what to do next the Ladybird leveled out and we were suddenly lined up perfectly to touch the wheels down and falling toward the runway fast. The initial touchdown was a bit hard but quite remarkable for what my layman brain thought to be possible.  

It seems like so much distance, yet it closes in fast

"Holy shit, buddy, that was a first!"  My pilot erupted with a victory squeal.  Something about the bowl of the mountain range and the placement of the landing strip meant that the only way to successfully land was to have pulled a maneuver like that.  I don't even think I had time to be scared, if scared was the reaction.  It was more along the lines of, "holy crap! I just looked a cow in the eyes while floating sideways in a fucking airplane 200 feet above it."  It was a pivotal moment in my life and as we made our way out of the plane onto the sleepy little tarmac, I couldn't help but crack a grin. It doesn't seem like a big deal now.  In fact it seems like such a small thrill by comparison to the shenanigans that awaited us.

We had some time to kill while we waited for our transportation, so we wandered around the sleepy old airport and took in the sights.  There wasn't much but it was endearing to me and there was quite a bit to be appreciated in the dusty old hangars.

When One Garage Door Closes: Part 4

The weightlessness was a little unnerving at first, but as I looked out the windows at the patchwork landscape of what looked like trees of broccoli scattered across a hillside of green moss I reconciled my equilibrium.  My pilot was kind enough to go easy on me for the first few minutes and then as we settled into our altitude and course it seemed as though we were suspended in the air, floating lightly above the Georgia landscape.  It was, in a word: humbling.  At one point my pilot broke the ambient hum of the airplane and informed me that he would show me a couple of things. He took a few seconds to discuss some basics of what I was looking at in the gauges.  Then he announced that he was going to do a very basic "stall" which would result in the plane essentially falling a few hundred feet or so.  I took a deep breath and felt the Ladybird drop very briefly before leveling out and regaining it's course.  "I'd say we fell about a couple hundred feet or so," he pointed out.  I was surprised since it felt as though the little plane only fell about a foot or two. I remember thinking that wasn't too bad! We buzzed around for a little while longer and I looked out at a few cotton-balls that littered a beautiful blue sky before we finally decided to bring her back into the air strip and rejoin our friends for the festivities.

Aside from my obvious obsession with all things combustion-driven, I am also quite a foodie.  One of the things I was eagerly anticipating the most about my visit to the south was getting some authentic southern barbecue.  We made a few stops before our host escorted us to a rather delightful little joint that served up one hell of a platter full of flavorful goodness.  Aside from being taken aback by how amazingly polite our server was, I was in hog heaven with my platter full of ribs, pulled park, chicken, beef, fried okra, coleslaw, beans and a nice cold glass of local brew to wash it all down.  I won't lie, it was way more than I could handle and I had no idea that I would be presented with such a huge undertaking, but I was certainly not opposed to taking a stroll through the Garden-Of-Eating. 

I have to take this moment to point out that I can't thank my host enough for allowing me to invade some space in his home.  One of the most memorable parts of the trip was how hospitable everyone was and that is something that sticks with a person for a long time. What Georgia might lack in Cali weather, it more than makes up for in hospitality. Shortly after eating ourselves stupid, we returned to the house to meet up with the rest of the gang for one last night of shenanigans before making the trek to North Carolina. It wasn't long before people started arriving from all over the place with bikes and gear and beer in tow.