I met Dave in the mid 70s at one of the early Cordele regionals. Good pilot, good guy. We were both pretty young. I looked forward to flying with and against him. On the first contest day in 1977, I got nervous and left early in my Std. Libelle. Half way around, I heard late starters chortling over the suddenly improved thermals. Gloom. I finished, launched again, and took a chance on a second trip, dolphining home under a deteriorating sky to improve my speed significantly. One of the pilots there, flying a Std. Cirrus, came up to me afterward grinning: "You beat me!" He was very competitive but also good humored and gracious.

That was the Dave Cole I will remember.

Fifteen years later, in 1992, I had been out of soaring for five years. UH encouraged and helped me re-enter that summer. In September, my then-wife, Tanya, and I drove down to New Castle for my first contest in a long time. The venue was probably not my wisest decision but I'd flown there before and thought I could do so safely.

As we drove up to the main hangar on Saturday morning, a little nervous that after that much time away from soaring, we might feel very out of place, a guy looked up at our van. When we climbed out, his face broke into a big smile. He called out my name delightedly and came hustling over to shake our hands and welcome us back. It was a great feeling!

That was the Dave Cole I will remember.

Not long after, I stood chatting with several pilots, watching gliders take off on the practice day. A motorglider lifted off and went by us in a drone of noise. It was a beautiful day but hot and there was some wind swirling over the hills. We watched the motorglider struggle to climb out. One of the local guys saw it first, before anyone else.

"No, Alan, no!" he cried out in alarm. The glider flew into the downwash at the north end of the runway at NCI and began to settle. We watched, frozen, as he approached the high-voltage cables there, hoping fervently that he would clear. Then the main wheel caught the top wire. It flipped the bird over on its nose and it dropped straight in, engine still screaming. The guy who had yelled--who knew New Castle like the back of his hand--was already running for his van. He had known through the entire sequence that the pilot was in trouble.

That was the Dave Cole I will remember.

Soaring is great. But it's the people who make it special. Dave was one of them. So very sorry to hear he's gone. Condolences to Charlie, Sam, Dan, Jim, and the entire Cole family.

There's a very nice obit at: https://www.legacy.com/amp/obituaries/roanoke/197724777

Chip Bearden
JB