A300Capt
Freight Dawg
One fine hot Summer's afternoon saw a Cessna 150 flying in
the pattern at a quiet country airfield. The Instructor was
getting quite bothered with the student's inability to
maintain altitude in the thermals and was getting impatient
at sometimes having to take over the controls. Just then he
saw a twin engine Cessna 5,000ft above him and thought
"Another 1,000 hrs of this and I qualify for that twin
charter job! Aaahh.. to be a real pilot.. going
somewhere!"
The Cessna 402 was already late and the boss told him this
charter was for one of the Company's premier clients. He'd
already set MCT and the cylinders didn't like it in the heat
of this Summer's day. He was at 6,000ft and the winds were
now a 20kt headwind. Today was the 6th day straight and he
was pretty damn tired of fighting these engines. Maybe if
he got 10,000ft out of them the wind might die off... geez
those cylinder temps! He looked out momentarily and saw a
B737 leaving a contrail at 33,000ft in the serene blue sky.
"Oh man" he thought, "My interview is next month. I hope I
just don't blow it! Outa G/A, nice jet job, above the
weather... no snotty passengers to wait for.. aahhh."
The Boeing 737 bucked and weaved in the heavy CAT at FL330
and ATC advised that lower levels were not available due
traffic.
The Captain, who was only recently advised that his
destination was below RVR minimums had slowed to LRC to try
and hold off a possible inflight diversion, and arrange an
ETA that would helpfully ensure the fog had lifted to CATII
minima. The Company negotiations broke down yesterday and
looked as if everyone was going to take a damn pay cut. The
F/O's will be particularly hard hit as their pay wasn't
anything to speak of anyway. Finally deciding on a speed
compromise between LRC and turbulence penetration, the
Captain looked up and saw Concorde at Mach 2+. Tapping his
F/O's shoulder as the
737 took another bashing, he said "Now THAT'S what we should
be on... huge pay ... super fast... not too many routes...
not too many legs... above the CAT... yep! What a
life...!"
FL590 was not what he wanted anyway and considered FL570.
Already the TAT was creeping up again and either they would
have to descend or slow down. That damn rear fuel transfer
pump was becoming unreliable and the F/E had said moments
ago that the radiation meter was not reading numbers that
he'd like to see. Concorde descended to FL570 but the
radiation was still quite high even though the Notam
indicated hunky dory below FL610. Fuel flow was up and the
transfer pump was intermittent. Evening turned into night
as they passed over the Atlantic. Looking up, the F/O could
see a tiny white dot moving against the backdrop of a myriad
of stars. "Hey Captain" he called as he pointed. "Must be
the Shuttle. "The Captain looked for a moment and agreed.
Quietly he thought how a Shuttle mission, while complicated,
must be the-be-all-and-end-all in aviation. Above the crap,
no radiation problems, no damn fuel transfer problems...
aaah. Must be a great way to earn a buck."
Discovery was into its 27th orbit and perigee was 200ft out
from nominated rendezvous altitude with the commsat. The
robot arm was virtually U/S and a walk may become necessary.
The 200ft predicted error would necessitate a corrective
burn and Discovery needed that fuel if a walk was to be
required. Houston continually asked what the Commander
wanted to do but the advice they proffered wasn't much help.
The Commander had already been 12 hours on station sorting
out the problem and just wanted 10 minutes to himself to
take a leak. Just then a mission specialist, who had tilted
the telescope down to the surface for a minute or two,
called the Commander to the scope. "Have a look at this
Sir, isn't this the kinda flying you said you wanted to do
after you finish up with NASA?" The Commander peered through
the telescope and cried "Ooooohhhhh yeah! Now THAT'S
flying! Man, that's what its all about! Geez I'd give my
left nut just to be doing THAT down there!"
What the Discovery Commander was looking at was a Cessna 150
in the pattern at a quiet country airfield on a nice bright
sunny afternoon.
Boy, I'll tell you...pilots are never happy unless they are
drinking beer and looking for a better job!
the pattern at a quiet country airfield. The Instructor was
getting quite bothered with the student's inability to
maintain altitude in the thermals and was getting impatient
at sometimes having to take over the controls. Just then he
saw a twin engine Cessna 5,000ft above him and thought
"Another 1,000 hrs of this and I qualify for that twin
charter job! Aaahh.. to be a real pilot.. going
somewhere!"
The Cessna 402 was already late and the boss told him this
charter was for one of the Company's premier clients. He'd
already set MCT and the cylinders didn't like it in the heat
of this Summer's day. He was at 6,000ft and the winds were
now a 20kt headwind. Today was the 6th day straight and he
was pretty damn tired of fighting these engines. Maybe if
he got 10,000ft out of them the wind might die off... geez
those cylinder temps! He looked out momentarily and saw a
B737 leaving a contrail at 33,000ft in the serene blue sky.
"Oh man" he thought, "My interview is next month. I hope I
just don't blow it! Outa G/A, nice jet job, above the
weather... no snotty passengers to wait for.. aahhh."
The Boeing 737 bucked and weaved in the heavy CAT at FL330
and ATC advised that lower levels were not available due
traffic.
The Captain, who was only recently advised that his
destination was below RVR minimums had slowed to LRC to try
and hold off a possible inflight diversion, and arrange an
ETA that would helpfully ensure the fog had lifted to CATII
minima. The Company negotiations broke down yesterday and
looked as if everyone was going to take a damn pay cut. The
F/O's will be particularly hard hit as their pay wasn't
anything to speak of anyway. Finally deciding on a speed
compromise between LRC and turbulence penetration, the
Captain looked up and saw Concorde at Mach 2+. Tapping his
F/O's shoulder as the
737 took another bashing, he said "Now THAT'S what we should
be on... huge pay ... super fast... not too many routes...
not too many legs... above the CAT... yep! What a
life...!"
FL590 was not what he wanted anyway and considered FL570.
Already the TAT was creeping up again and either they would
have to descend or slow down. That damn rear fuel transfer
pump was becoming unreliable and the F/E had said moments
ago that the radiation meter was not reading numbers that
he'd like to see. Concorde descended to FL570 but the
radiation was still quite high even though the Notam
indicated hunky dory below FL610. Fuel flow was up and the
transfer pump was intermittent. Evening turned into night
as they passed over the Atlantic. Looking up, the F/O could
see a tiny white dot moving against the backdrop of a myriad
of stars. "Hey Captain" he called as he pointed. "Must be
the Shuttle. "The Captain looked for a moment and agreed.
Quietly he thought how a Shuttle mission, while complicated,
must be the-be-all-and-end-all in aviation. Above the crap,
no radiation problems, no damn fuel transfer problems...
aaah. Must be a great way to earn a buck."
Discovery was into its 27th orbit and perigee was 200ft out
from nominated rendezvous altitude with the commsat. The
robot arm was virtually U/S and a walk may become necessary.
The 200ft predicted error would necessitate a corrective
burn and Discovery needed that fuel if a walk was to be
required. Houston continually asked what the Commander
wanted to do but the advice they proffered wasn't much help.
The Commander had already been 12 hours on station sorting
out the problem and just wanted 10 minutes to himself to
take a leak. Just then a mission specialist, who had tilted
the telescope down to the surface for a minute or two,
called the Commander to the scope. "Have a look at this
Sir, isn't this the kinda flying you said you wanted to do
after you finish up with NASA?" The Commander peered through
the telescope and cried "Ooooohhhhh yeah! Now THAT'S
flying! Man, that's what its all about! Geez I'd give my
left nut just to be doing THAT down there!"
What the Discovery Commander was looking at was a Cessna 150
in the pattern at a quiet country airfield on a nice bright
sunny afternoon.
Boy, I'll tell you...pilots are never happy unless they are
drinking beer and looking for a better job!
