rframe
pǝʇɹǝʌuı
Waking up this morning and reminiscing about some of my adventures and decided to share a little story. I dont think I've ever told this story on here. Maybe I have, dunno.
Back a couple years ago I bought my 150 down in California and flew it back home to the inland northwest. I spent the night sleeping on the couch of an FBO in central Washington and was ready to get home to my wife and kids, so I took off early one morning for my final 150 mile leg home. About half way home the ceilings lowered and snow started and it just turned to crap. Fighting that killer disease known as "get-home-itis", I decided it'd look pretty stupid if I smacked the thing into a mountain or tower scud running... so I put down at a little podunk airport in eastern washington to wait it out. There was no FBO or anything, just a couple broken down hangars with old broken down tractors in them. I wandered around in the rain/snow for a while, bored out of my mind. As I was sitting in the plane killing time I see this white pickup slowly roll over to a hangar. This was one of those pickups that has been glossed up, custom wheels, fiberglass tonneau cover, blacked out windows...not exactly what you expect to see pull into a crappy little airport, and does tend to raise some prejudice. There it sits, tucked up along an old hangar.
Now, my immediate assumption was this was going to be a drug deal. So me, feeling invisible in my fogged up 150, don my super-spy alter ego and confidently continue to watch, figuring I can get some good visual and maybe a few pics of the deal and the DA will be so grateful I'll get a free lunch. After about 10 minutes, the gentleman gets out of the truck and starts wandering around the hangar. It's padlocked and he's clearly looking for a way in...
At that point my suspicion shifts, I see loading hoses on a rack and figure this is a crop duster's loading hangar and probably has a lot of chemicals that might be useful in cooking up some meth... so I make the logical conclusion that this fine gentleman is doing a little shopping. After he makes a few trips around the hangar looking for a way in he decides to cut to the chase, grabs a bolt cutter from his truck, there's the distinct "snap" of hardened steel getting cut, the lock hits the ground and our customer heads on into the hangar.
At this point I decide it's time to take him down but, since I left the compact .357 at home due to the hassles of commercial airline travel when I flew down to get the 150, I decide to let the po-po do my dirty work and I'll stay dry and warm. So, I call up 911 and give the friendly dispatcher the scoop. About three minutes later and I see a squad slowly sneaking up the side street. He sees the truck and lights it up. Another squad pulls in and with guns drawn they grab the dude and throw him on the hood.
This is great entertainment for me, finally my morning has stopped sucking!
I head on over and the officers give me all sorts of props, and I'm feeling pretty cool.
They are questioning dude and he swears he works for the crop duster and is allowed to be in the hangar, the cops and I chuckle together..."riiight!". Nobody answers on the phone numbers he provides and they say they are going to haul him in. Just as they get ready to leave the officer's phone rings and to our amazement it's the crop duster operator verifying that the guy is supposed to have a load ready for the spray plane that is going to be there in a few minutes.
Baffled, the police let him go.
The poor guy is all embarrassed because he had lost his key to the hangar but didn't want to get in trouble for not having the load ready... that's why he cut the lock off!
The police head off to other adventures and I decide to hike a mile into town to wait out the weather in the local library instead, as I'm cold and tired from my morning of crime fighting...
About 5 hours later the clouds and vis lift enough and I finally make it home.
The End.
Back a couple years ago I bought my 150 down in California and flew it back home to the inland northwest. I spent the night sleeping on the couch of an FBO in central Washington and was ready to get home to my wife and kids, so I took off early one morning for my final 150 mile leg home. About half way home the ceilings lowered and snow started and it just turned to crap. Fighting that killer disease known as "get-home-itis", I decided it'd look pretty stupid if I smacked the thing into a mountain or tower scud running... so I put down at a little podunk airport in eastern washington to wait it out. There was no FBO or anything, just a couple broken down hangars with old broken down tractors in them. I wandered around in the rain/snow for a while, bored out of my mind. As I was sitting in the plane killing time I see this white pickup slowly roll over to a hangar. This was one of those pickups that has been glossed up, custom wheels, fiberglass tonneau cover, blacked out windows...not exactly what you expect to see pull into a crappy little airport, and does tend to raise some prejudice. There it sits, tucked up along an old hangar.
Now, my immediate assumption was this was going to be a drug deal. So me, feeling invisible in my fogged up 150, don my super-spy alter ego and confidently continue to watch, figuring I can get some good visual and maybe a few pics of the deal and the DA will be so grateful I'll get a free lunch. After about 10 minutes, the gentleman gets out of the truck and starts wandering around the hangar. It's padlocked and he's clearly looking for a way in...
At that point my suspicion shifts, I see loading hoses on a rack and figure this is a crop duster's loading hangar and probably has a lot of chemicals that might be useful in cooking up some meth... so I make the logical conclusion that this fine gentleman is doing a little shopping. After he makes a few trips around the hangar looking for a way in he decides to cut to the chase, grabs a bolt cutter from his truck, there's the distinct "snap" of hardened steel getting cut, the lock hits the ground and our customer heads on into the hangar.
At this point I decide it's time to take him down but, since I left the compact .357 at home due to the hassles of commercial airline travel when I flew down to get the 150, I decide to let the po-po do my dirty work and I'll stay dry and warm. So, I call up 911 and give the friendly dispatcher the scoop. About three minutes later and I see a squad slowly sneaking up the side street. He sees the truck and lights it up. Another squad pulls in and with guns drawn they grab the dude and throw him on the hood.
This is great entertainment for me, finally my morning has stopped sucking!
I head on over and the officers give me all sorts of props, and I'm feeling pretty cool.
They are questioning dude and he swears he works for the crop duster and is allowed to be in the hangar, the cops and I chuckle together..."riiight!". Nobody answers on the phone numbers he provides and they say they are going to haul him in. Just as they get ready to leave the officer's phone rings and to our amazement it's the crop duster operator verifying that the guy is supposed to have a load ready for the spray plane that is going to be there in a few minutes.
Baffled, the police let him go.
The poor guy is all embarrassed because he had lost his key to the hangar but didn't want to get in trouble for not having the load ready... that's why he cut the lock off!
The police head off to other adventures and I decide to hike a mile into town to wait out the weather in the local library instead, as I'm cold and tired from my morning of crime fighting...
About 5 hours later the clouds and vis lift enough and I finally make it home.
The End.
