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Thread: For any pilots here:

  1. #1
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    Default For any pilots here:

    Hi Mate,
    I am writing to you because I need your help to get me
    ****** pilots license back. You keep telling me you
    got all the right contacts. Well now's your chance to
    make something happen for me because, mate, I'm ******
    desperate.
    But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my
    last flight review with the CAA Examiner
    On the phone, Ron (that's the CAA) seemed a
    reasonable sort of a bloke. He politely reminded me of
    the need to do a flight review every two years. He
    even offered to drive out, have a look over my
    property and let me operate from my own strip.
    Naturally I agreed to that.
    Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he
    said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a
    small strip outside my homestead, because the ALA
    (Authorised Landing Area) is about a mile away. I
    explained that because this strip was so close to the
    homestead, it was more convenient than the ALA, and
    despite the power lines crossing about midway down the
    strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off,
    because at the halfway point down the strip you're
    usually still on the ground.
    For some reason Ron seemed nervous. So, although I had
    done the pre-flight inspection only four days earlier,
    I decided to do it all over again. Because the *****
    was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane
    three times instead of my usual two.
    My effort was rewarded because the colour finally
    returned to Ron's cheeks. In fact, they went a bright
    red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I told
    him I was going to combine the test flight with some
    farm work, as I had to deliver three poddy calves from
    the home paddock to the main herd.
    After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and
    threw them into the back of the ol Cessna 172. We
    climbed aboard, but Ron started getting onto me about
    weight and balance calculations and all that crap. Of
    course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time
    because, calves like to move around a bit particularly
    when they see themselves 500 feet off the ground! So,
    It's ****** pointless trying to secure them as you
    know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry
    as I always keep the trim wheel set on neutral to
    ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages
    throughout the flight.
    Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized
    the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and
    gunning her to 2,500 rpm. I then discovered that Ron
    has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a
    ****** headset. Through all that noise he detected a
    metallic rattle and demanded I account for it.
    Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by
    a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and
    lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector
    Can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's
    jammed on All tanks, so I suppose that's Okay.
    However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed
    the noise on vibration from a stainless steel thermos
    flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between
    the windshield and the magnetic compass. My
    explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slumped
    back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit
    roof. I released the brakes to taxi out, but
    unfortunately the plane
    gave a leap and spun to the right. ****** hell I thought,
    not the starboard wheel chock again.
    The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked
    around just in time to see a rock thrown by the
    prop-wash disappear completely through the
    windscreen of his brand new Commodore. Now I'm really
    in trouble, I thought.
    While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored
    his requirement that we taxi to the ALA, and instead
    took off under the power lines. Ron didn't say a word,
    at least not until the engine started coughing right
    at the lift off point, and then he ****** screamed his
    head off. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
    Now take it easy, Ron I told him firmly. That often
    happens on take-off and there is a good reason for
    it. I explained patiently that I usually run the
    plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally
    put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for
    the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few
    gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down
    a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has
    been coughing a bit but in general it works just fine,
    if you know how to coax it properly.
    Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest
    in my test flight. He pulled out some rosary beads,
    closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (I didn't
    think anyone was a Catholic these days). I selected
    some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax.
    Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of
    10,500 feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or
    get the weather because, as you know getting FAX
    access out here is a friggin' joke and the weather is
    always 8/8 blue anyway. But since I had that near miss
    with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinking on
    that.
    Anyhow, on leveling out, I noticed some wild camels
    heading into my improved pasture. I hate ******
    camels, and always carry a loaded .303 clipped inside
    the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of them.
    We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of
    principle, I decided to have a go through the open
    window. Mate, when I pulled the ****** rifle out,
    the effect on Ron was freakin electric. As I fired
    the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches
    and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo.
    He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an
    electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron's
    reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration
    for a second and the next shot went straight through
    the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting
    (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so
    I decided not to tell him about our little problem
    with the tyre.
    Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided
    to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to
    praying when, in one smooth sequence, I
    pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a
    sideslip from 10,500 feet down to 500 feet at 130
    knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and
    the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI.
    What a buzz, mate!
    About half way through the descent I looked back in
    the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in
    mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment
    on this unusual sight, but Ron looked a bit green and
    had rolled himself into the fetal position and was
    screamin his freakin head off again.
    Mate, talk about being in a ****** zoo. You should've
    been there, it was ****** funny!
    At about 500 feet I leveled out, but for some reason
    we kept sinking. When we reached 50 feet I applied
    full power but nothin happened; no noise no nothin.
    Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me
    head saying carby heat, carby heat. So I pulled
    carby heat on and that helped quite a
    lot, with the engine finally regaining full power.
    Whew, that was really close, let me tell you!
    Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As
    luck would have it, at that height we flew into a
    massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and
    suddenly went I.F. ****** R, mate. BJ, you would have
    been really proud of me as I didn't panic once, not
    once, but I did make a mental note to
    consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is
    repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a
    while now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and
    bulging eyes reappeared. His mouth opened wide, very
    wide, but no sound emerged.
    Take it easy, I told him, we'll be out of this in a
    minute.
    Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still
    straight and level and still at 50 feet.
    Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were
    upside down, and I kept thinking to myself, Christ I hope
    Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set
    the QNH when we were taxiing. This minor tribulation
    forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to
    do a half roll to get upright again.
    By now the main herd had divided into two groups
    leaving a narrow strip between them. Ah! I thought,
    there's an omen. We'll land right there.
    Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow
    approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full
    flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud
    in me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker to shut it
    up, but by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. I
    turned steeply onto a 75 foot final and put her down
    with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always
    thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger
    but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!
    Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered
    his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen
    the likes of it. He couldn't stop. We finally rolled
    to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of
    the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.
    I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut
    wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was
    doing. I explained that we had to stuff the
    port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the
    homestead. It was then that Ron really lost the plot
    and started running away from the aircraft. Can you
    believe it? The last time I saw him he was off into
    the distance, arms flailing in the air and still
    shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had
    been confined to a psychiatric institution poor
    ******!
    Anyhow mate, thats enough about Ron. The problem is I
    got this letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it,
    my privileges to fly; until I have
    undergone a complete pilot training course again and
    undertaken another flight proficiency test.
    Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the
    wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip
    elevation, but I can't see what else I did that was a
    so ****** bad that they have to withdraw me flamin
    license. Can you?
    Yrs. Trly.,
    Maynard

  2. #2
    Regular Member leeandjude's Avatar
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    Default

    ok....

  3. #3
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    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by leeandjude View Post
    ok....
    You probably don't get the amusing bits... which is why it is entitled "for any PILOTS here..."

  4. #4
    Regular Member Ste's Avatar
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    Default

    I thought it was funny.

  5. #5
    Vec-C Facebook Admin thegoldenbullet's Avatar
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    Default

    its good that mate lol

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