And now sits in a hanger at Lakeland the fruits of my labors and efforts, I give you MY OWN AIRCRAFT.
...psst, where's the Pic?
...what do you mean no pic?!
...well what happened to the digital?
...Really. Ever think about gloves there slippy??
So no pictures for now, but rest assured she looks like the photo on the first post to this blog but with wings and a checkered tail. Trust me, the tail happened, it took 11 hours to mask and paint and I'm not just making up a story about an unfinished hanger queen, I've got the scars and lack of sleep to prove otherwise.
THE PLAN!
Unbeknownest to those of us working the ragged edge of the flight line and contrary to what had been suggested, it turns out that despite my slave like job and interesting lack of earnings (do bags of sand and rock count as payment?) our mighty struggles may to actually be met with the indifferent silence and lack of compensation but instead actually carries a great deal of benefits that are, well, beneficial. One of these may prove to be quite useful to my own endeavours, the almighty coveted VACATION TIME.
Yes, the forgotten glory of packing up the kids and wife into the station wagon and setting sail on the high seas of asphalt...wait, wait, what is this, 1984, who the hell even owns a station wagon?....got that a bit backwards. Take two.
Yes the forgotten glory of escaping from the office to bury yourself in your apartment continuing to work and drudge over projects that SHALL NOT WAIT BECAUSE YOUR ASS AND YOUR JOB DEPEND ON IT. Tied forever to the boat anchor suspiciously labeled "Black Berry" that has become an accessory that has become attached to your face. The corporate world still waits in anguish for the inter-cranial comm/data chip, so you can work EVERYWHERE!!! ALL THE TIME!!!EVEN WHILE YOU SLEEP!!!!!YEA!!!!BACK TO WORK NUMBER 4178!!!!!....wait, wait, still got it ass backwards.
Yes, the forgotten glory of escaping from everything, putting down the cell phone, turning off the laptop, ignoring the postman (if you're still receiving that ancient form of conversation) locking the doors and setting off either for destinations known or getting hopelessly lost in manner that even Magellan would raise and eyebrow over. True. No Distractions. Vacation.
Webster defines vacation as:
Main Entry:
- Pronunciation:
- \vā-ˈkā-shən, və-\
- Function:
- noun
- Usage:
- often attributive
- Etymology:
- Middle English vacacioun, from Anglo-French vacacion, from Latin vacation-, vacatio freedom, exemption, from vacare
- Date:
- 14th century
1: a respite or a time of respite from something : intermission2 a: a scheduled period during which activity (as of a court or school) is suspended b: a period of exemption from work granted to an employee3: a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation vacation at the beach> 4: an act or an instance of vacating
Once in the U.S we had such a thing in place to ensure that workers wouldn't reach a level of overload that resulted in fatal shootings/stapler incidents. Although technically still found in contracts and agreements few, if ever any, vacation or time off is even taken any more by the vast public and although the explosion of workplace violence has not come to pass, it can be argued that the apathy level may have skyrocketed. Linked or mere coincidence?
Anyway, the key point to take away from all of the above ridiculously laid out rabble is that I have two weeks of time in which I can elect, at any given date, to NOT arrive at my place of employment, to NOT direct aircraft to parking and ensure safe ground operations, to NOT push as much overpriced blue octane down the throats of any hapless GA pilot that passes by and to NOT give a damn about the alarm clock AND get paid for it my complete lack of action on myFBO's part!
So as the plan goes, and one may have spotted this earlier on, is to vanish albeit it, inconveniently from the Lakeland area once the final bits have been placed on the bird and a good solid ten hours of time accumulated on the engine. By then I should know what bits may be inclined to not operate or fall off completely, hopefully not the latter.
With a solid jog north, I plan on flying Checkers to the big left turn at Albuquerque (the Florida pan handle) and proceed West, destination and means of covering the fuel totally unknown. The general idea would be to stick to I-10 as much as I can and make way as the blades turn. It's in the works and looks to be the start of what could be a grand adventure and a monumental chuck of cross country time the logs.
...if I can get someone on board who'd like to publish the tale, wink wink nudge nudge, even better. Stay tuned kids as the details, the be a comin.
KW
