awesome story.

I wish I could get my license. I wish I could start training, even. I
make $50k+ per year and I still can't afford it... so keep me going
with more stories like this.

jeremiah

Jason Dodd wrote:
Great story Jay. As a fellow Iowan, I REALLY was wishing I could fly
today! I didn't happen, but I did get a 1931 oldsmobile running! Great
to hear someone else punching holes in the Iowa sky.

Jason


Jay Honeck wrote:

80 degrees in Iowa? In April? If this is "global warming" I'm all
for it. And if it's just an early spring, well, all the better!

When we departed KIOW today, shortly after noon, the sun was warm, the
winds light, and my 14-year-old son was in the right seat. Mary,
having worked 25 of the last 48 hours (two weddings at the inn -- on
the same weekend!) was more than willing to snooze in the back seat
while Joey learned a bit more about being a pilot.

Destination today? Hampton, Iowa -- home of the Hampton Aviation
Association, and the most beautiful Gullwing Stinson to ever grace the
skies, owned by our friend Paul Sensor. This beautiful 1936
aircraft, fully restored by Paul in 2000, was the model for the 2002
Hallmark Aviation Christmas ornament, which was reproduced with
incredible accuracy, right down to the "NC" number.

One catch: Paul didn't know we were coming. In fact, *we* didn't
know we were coming until 10 minutes before departure, thanks to our
incredibly hectic weekend and a decided lack of planning. Still, we
figured if no one was at the airport, we'd simply proceed on to Fort
Dodge -- home of a Flight Service station, and another Iowa airport
that we had never visited.

Of course, we were in search of food -- when aren't we? -- and
truthfully Hampton didn't look too promising, with AOPA's directory
clearly stating "FBO closed Sundays." But, with enough fuel aboard
to fly to Texas non-stop, we figured we'd take our chances.

After climbing to 5500 feet, Joey quickly learned that flying in
summertime haze was a LOT different than flying in the winter. With
ever growing frustration he discovered that without a well-defined
horizon he could hold heading or altitude -- but usually not both at
the same time. My amusement grew as he quickly learned that maybe
flying wasn't the "slam-dunk" he thought it was, but Mary -- sitting
behind the center of gravity -- soon put an end to my fun by
protesting his too-active bank and pitch corrections...

Approaching the pattern Joey gladly relinquished the controls, perhaps
a bit wiser, and I landed uneventfully. As feared, however, this
pristine airport was deserted, but the FBO was unlocked, so we went
inside to look around.

Everything in the place was neat as a pin, and appeared to be brand
new. The concrete was smooth as a pool table, with nary a skid mark or
a stone out of place. Clearly this was an airport that was
well-loved and thoughtfully maintained, so we were puzzled by its
unused condition on such a perfect flying day.

My eyes fell on a phone book laying on the desk, and I figured "what
could it hurt?" to give Paul a jingle. Only last month he had led his
group of aviation merry-makers on a junket to Iowa City, where the
guys and gals had rented the entire hotel for a wonderful weekend of
flying, hanger lying, and shopping. During his time with us we had
hit it off pretty well, and Paul had invited us to visit "any time" --
so why not test the waters?

Luckily, he had just stopped at home for lunch, after spending the
morning bringing the Stinson out of "winter mothballs." He
immediately offered to come get us, and within minutes he and a friend
were pulling up to meet us. Outgoing and warm as always, Paul --
knowing we were hungry -- had taken the liberty of calling his
favorite local restaurant to make sure that they would stay open long
enough for us to eat there! (In small-town Iowa, many businesses are
still closed on Sundays, and the ones that *are* open usually close
early.)

He then drove us to "Coffee & Company" -- a small, intimate
restaurant/coffee shop (owned by a guy whose last name really is
"Coffee") with fantastic food -- and left us to our devices while he
went back to work on the Stinson. Before he left, he asked our
waitress to CALL HIM on his cell phone when it looked like we were
finishing up, so he could be back to fetch us before we were done
chewing! It just doesn't get much better than that, and we enjoyed a
terrific lunch, complete with home-made potato/bacon soup and a slice
of home-made cheesecake for dessert...

True to his word, Paul was there to pick us up right as the cashier
finished running our card -- and he happily whisked us back to his
hangar for a first-hand tour of his incredible plane.

One of only three left flying (there were four until last week, when
one was retired to the Delta Airlines museum), this incredible Stinson
has been lovingly restored to better-than-new condition by Paul and a
dedicated band of friends and mechanics. He showed us his
"restoration book", a picture-diary which outlined in great detail
just how far he had taken his bird in a very few short years.

While never a basket case -- he flew it for four years before
restoring it -- the Gullwing had been extensively modified over the
years. Details like a wrong engine cowling, the wrong wheel pants,
and an inaccurate interior all had to be replaced and fabricated from
scratch -- and you don't go out and get this stuff from "Airtex"!
The end result is so stunning that, well, Hallmark made a Christmas
ornament out of it! You really just have to see it to appreciate it.

Paul then directed Mary, me and the kids to climb up and in his
surprisingly huge work of art. (Never was I so paranoid about having
children!) Just getting in took some lessons, since -- even though
there is a ladder built into the fuselage for entry -- it's not
entirely obvious where to put your hands and feet.

Once inside we were bathed in fresh leather -- a whole *bunch* of cows
gave there all for THIS bird. The seat was deeply comfortable,
although smaller than modern seats (people apparently weren't as
broad-butted during the Depression as they are today), and we were
surprised to be staring up at the sky! In fact, the pilot's position
is closer to that of the Apollo astronauts than it is to that of the
Space Shuttle pilots -- a Stinson really sits back on its haunches!
Paul stated that he had seen "an entire T-28 hide behind that nose"
more than once, so he must constantly S-turn while taxiing to avoid
catastrophe.

He assured me, however, that once the nose came up visibility was just
fine.

He then regaled us with tales of the restoration process, and how he
had found expert "faux wood painters" down south to re-create the
panel accurately. (In the 1930s they didn't have veneer woods yet, so
they painted the panels to look like wood.) Even this little detail
has been perfectly re-created, and the end result is a perfect time
machine. It was easy to close my eyes and imagine famed air racer
Roscoe Turner piloting this bird -- as he had, in fact, done. (He
owned it for a time, during which he used it in a short-lived airline
that he opened -- and closed -- within a few short months, after
running into trouble with the CAA for running an illegal airline!)

Too soon it was time to go. I wanted to wait until they were ready for
another ground run, but the kids were getting antsy and the sky was
beckoning. After bidding our friends farewell, and inviting them to a
return trip to Iowa City soon, we launched back into that warm, milky
sky.

Mary flew us home, while I gazed out the window, pondering how lucky
we were to be alive, how fabulous everyone in the tight-knit world of
aviation can be, and how fortunate we were to be enjoying this
wondrous thing we call flight...