The Sudden Demise of Wing-Girl
Monday, December 7th, 2015 was a day that shall
remain a busy memory in my professional life as an over-the-road truck driver.
I completed a multi-stop trip in the state of Connecticut. After that journey was
finished, I grabbed a fresh box of furniture and set off in the darkness for
the small town of Morrisville, Vermont, which resides in the northern middle of
the state. As I neared my destination I noticed Morrisville-Stowe State Airport
was sliding by outside my passenger window. I looked over, twisting my neck all
around, trying to get a glimpse of just one airplane. I’m also a pilot and that’s
what we do- it does not matter what kind of airplane we see, any kind of wing
reminds us of our happy place and the mere sight of one is akin to aviator porn.
(I think I did manage to see one half of a Cessna 172 fast asleep in the tie-down
area of the airpark.)
It was after ten at
night when I pulled into the parking lot of the Big Lots store I would be
delivering to in the morning and quickly set the brakes. Exhaustion had set in
50 miles prior, so it wasn’t long until I climbed into the back of what I like
to call my “RV” and quickly fell fast asleep. Fifteen minutes later, I found
myself flying.
I was in the front seat of a Christen Eagle II biplane, no
different than the one pictured above that was built by my grandfather and some
of his friends. (That’s my late granddad and my grandmother sitting inside. It’s
one of my most treasured photos.) I was sitting upfront flying the airplane and
my friend Mary Ellen, also known as Wing-Girl, was in the backseat. This
seating arrangement should have been the first red flag that things were about
to go bad because the backseat is where the airplane is soloed from, in other
words, that is where the pilot-in-command would sit. Apparently Wing-Girl had
suddenly become proficient in such an aircraft and was taking ME for a ride.
Then again, I guess I should not be surprised by this because I have exercised
poor judgement before by flying with her in her own airplane as well as in a
mutual friend’s Aeronca that had been fitted with skis in winter.
So there I was, cruising along at altitude, my right hand on
the control stick, my left hand on the throttle when suddenly and without
warning, the Plexiglas canopy that protected us from the wind and whatnot began
to shake and then completely broke loose. I quickly let go of the throttle and
grabbed it with my left hand while still flying with my right. It was a rather awkward
position to be in while trying to remain in control of the airplane so I turned
around to Wing-Girl and asked through the headset, “Can you hold this?” She
nodded her head in the affirmative and proceeded to reach up with her left arm
to take a hold of it. I went back to flying.
I have no idea why the canopy came off. Perhaps it was a
design failure or Wing-Girl did not properly inspect the airplane before our
departure. It did not matter now- the damage had been done and I was doing my
best to fly the airplane during an emergency as every pilot is taught. Inability
to fly first and instead lending complete focus on one issue has contributed to many
accidents and I had no desire to become a statistic.
Coming up with Ideas about what to do next seemed slow to
arrive in my thought process. I turned around to ask Wing-Girl her thoughts. I
could have asked without looking, but I wanted to see how she was fairing with
the loose canopy in her hands. I was totally shocked to notice Wing-Girl was
gone. There was only an empty seat, two shoulder harnesses blowing gently in
the wind. Instantly I figured out what happened: As she reached up with her
left arm to grab it from me, it must have tilted just enough for the wind to
grab it and fling it backward with a terrible force. She didn’t let go and it
ripped her right out of her seat. But why wouldn’t the shoulder harness part of
the seat belt keep her in place? That made zero sense. There was no time for
questioning or rational reasoning. My first priority was to find her and get
her back in the airplane or she could be in real trouble, especially when you
consider the fact that neither of us happened to be wearing a parachute.
My first instinct was to roll hard right, almost, if not all
the way inverted and then pull up just in time to scoop her up. It was the
perfect cartoon move. Unfortunately for me (as well as her), I long ago learned
that what works for Tom and Jerry rarely works for me. Worse yet, I had no idea
how long Wing-Girl had been sucked out of her seat. A person becomes impossibly
difficult to see rather quickly when something like this happens. (To my future
passengers: Nothing like this has ever happened to me before and I am most
certain it never will again, so please don’t worry yourself.)
It was time for me to accept the reality of what has
happened. Wing-Girl had met an untimely demise. I had little to no emotion
about the matter- it simply was what it was. If I were to be vocal about it, I’d
probably say something such as, “Wing-Girl got to die today” as if she, quite
simply, got to do something that you and I did not. That’s how emotionless I
was and in truth, that’s likely no more emotional than any of us need to be
when we lose someone close to us, for death is as much a beautiful a thing as birth- one just scares us more. I
don’t want to put words in Wing-Girl’s mouth, however, I would guess from
knowing her that she might agree with my train of thought. That said, let me be
clear in saying that neither one us would ever do anything to rush towards the
end of our life because we have far too much fun living it to its fullest while
savoring every ounce of each day.
Please allow me to continue on with my predicament that
includes having my hands full with a broken airplane that I am unfamiliar flying
and now contains an empty rear seat: I managed to return to the airport and
safely land the airplane on our familiar grass strip in Kralltown, Pennsylvania.
All I recall is looking at the little biplane, now tucked into the hangar tail
first. Wing-Girl’s husband walked up and asked, “Where is Mary Ellen?” I
replied, rather casually, “She got sucked out after the canopy came off.” He
simply sighed and let out an “Oh” before walking off slowly. He kind of tugged
his ever-present ball cap downward and disappeared. That moment was the first
time I felt real sorrow during this entire outing. I wondered how he would
continue on without his wife, his best friend. It was troubling for me, yet I
did not dwindle on the emotion for long. I looked back at the Eagle and
thought, “Wow. I actually landed that airplane all by lonesome. That’s fairly
cool!” This too should not have surprised me because I had the advantage of
getting handed those double wings while in flight. With the benefit of altitude,
a half-decent pilot can quickly learn the mannerisms of any airplane and get it
back on the ground without too much damage or bodily harm. The fact that I put
the Eagle in the hangar with no damage sans a missing canopy should tell you
what kind of mad aviator skills I have.
It was not long after I stood by the hangar when I heard the
alarm clock start to sing and I shot up in the top bunk of my RV. Back in the
real world, I found myself with a furrowed brow and deep sadness regarding the
loss of my friend. (Please don’t tell her I told you that. I’ll never hear the
end of it. Displaying affection is not allowed in our relationship. Seriously, it would be worse than a Monday morning.) I struggled
deeply over why that shoulder harness failed before determining that she
probably must not have tightened it correctly before we took off. I’d tell you
that she probably did not pre-flight the airplane properly or close the canopy
correctly either, but since I am back in the conscious world I have to be
honest and say that neither one of those options are likely. The folks I am
blessed to fly with do things right and consider safety to be of utmost
importance. The only thing dangerous I have ever witnessed Wing-Girl do is fly
because, well, she’s a girl and you know…. (That’s man-humor for anyone who
might be considering ripping me a new one in the comment section. Trust me,
Wing-Girl can handle it and I can handle the ripping I surely will be receiving
from her for writing that.)
Anyway, I inspected my rig, made my delivery and set off for
my next stop. Soon after I left Big Lots, I noticed Morrisville-Stowe State Airport
sliding by outside my driver’s side window. I looked over, smiled, and thought,
“Even with all those troubles, at least I got to fly last night. It has been
too long since I last got to do so.” I also wondered how many other truck
drivers drove by that airport and had that same thought. I’m guessing the
answer would be few to none because at the end of every day I’m neither a truck
driver nor a pilot, I’m just a dreamer, much like everyone else.
Comments