Community Magazine April 2013

The first three-hour leg lasted seven minutes. A quick u-turn had us back on the ground and in Bill’s (cold) hangar in a flash. Lee droveAbie to the other side of the airport, where they could enjoy the warmth of the FBO’s lounge and free coffee and snacks. (Each airport has one or more FBOs, or Fixed Base Operators, an enterprise which sells aviation gasoline, pilot supplies, and the like.) The shivering captain stayed with the ship while Bill poked and prodded to see what was wrong. He could not find the source of the problem. The odds were that some obscure part would be needed, which could take weeks to locate and install. The reality began to sink in. The trip was doomed, and all the planning was for naught. I fought back tears thinking how disappointed the boys would be when I broke the bad news to them. The mechanic contorted his body into the narrow tail of the plane and continued to explore possible causes for the landing-gear problem. All of a sudden I heard the familiar “whir” of the hydraulic gear pump. Bill announced that he found a loose wire which needed a new crimp. The plane could be fixed with nary a part! I immediately texted Lee to return to the hangar, and 20 minutes later we were hurtling down Runway 32 once again. This time, the gear retracted on the first try, and I aimed the plane’s nose toward the beach. The trip to Wilmington, North Carolina was smooth and beautiful. I chose to fly this leg under Visual Flight Rules (VFR), a procedure that enables a pilot to determine his own route, so long as he stays out of restricted airspace, and the sky and visibility are relatively clear. We were in communication with air traffic controllers, and followed on radar, the entire time, but had the luxury of flying down the coast instead of on a path dictated by the controllers. The beaches and sparkling shorelines of New Jersey, Maryland and Virginia passed 6,500 feet below, while the three of us played word games; two of us engaged in intermittent brotherly bickering; and one of us pretended to be an airline captain. Air Wilmington was the FBO (fixed base operator) at our first stop. Most FBO’s lend you their “crew car” if you buy AVGAS (aviation gas) from them, and so we gained access to a car. Even after our trio removed a layer or two of clothing, we did not have pilot uniforms underneath and looked nothing like an airline crew. Yet, Lee was behind the wheel of the “crew car” shortly after I requested a “fill ‘er up” from the FBO -- both wings, please. Unfortunately, Cardinal Airlines does not offer meals on board, and so we were hungry. The first crew car stop was at the Kangaroo Mart, a curiously named convenience store attached to a gas station. No food worthy of this intrepid crew was on display, so we got directions to a proper supermarket. A bag of Thomas English Muffins (Everything flavor), and a jar of peanut butter, never looked so good. We assembled lunch back at the FBO, paid the fuel bill, and were off to points south. I monitored our progress and, despite a headwind slowing us down, determined that we would land at Jacksonville, Florida. Here, too, we flew under Visual Flight Rules and enjoyed the view of the Carolina Coast from above. As I descended into JAX I was cleared for a visual approach onto Runway 26. However, the airport was obscured by clouds at 1,500 feet, and if I proceeded on course, we would be in those clouds. The view from inside a cloud is like going through a carwash. You can’t see anything definite. It is thus extremely dangerous to fly in clouds because you need to see the horizon to stay balanced. How long can you stand on one leg? Probably a long time. Now close your eyes; you will be off-balance within a few seconds. The same thing can happen when flying through clouds, but with far worse consequences. The plane can spin hopelessly out of control. Low clouds were not in the weather forecast and were an unwelcome surprise. The clouds were approaching quickly and I needed to do something now. But what? Mexico – JOSEPH LEE MATALON On a Wing and a Prayer Pilot Joseph Lee Matalon (right), with Copilot Lee (center) and Flight Engineer Abie in front of their Cessna 177RG Cardinal. The leading “N” in the plane’s tail number signifies that it is registered in the United States. The remainder was selected by Mr. Matalon, much like a vanity license plate. Having 613 (the number of the Torah’s commands) and BH (which represents “Baruch Hashem”) emblazoned on the fuselage helps remind the crew and the passengers who’s really directing the flight. Part II: To Cancun...in a Cessna? We present the second installment of Joe Matalon’s adventure to Cancun in his 4-seat Cessna Cardinal airplane with his 17-year-old son Lee and 11-year-old Abie. At the conclusion of last month’s segment, the landing gear would not retract soon after takeoff. 50 COMMUNITY MAGAZINE