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It's hard to explain what drives you. Late at night , at least we were in a heated shack , tired after a hard days flying , and determined . Determined not to fail.
Not ever a cross word between us and yet we would often vent at the injustices that beseiged us.... we had a common enemy.
We learned how to lockwire the finished wheel by running out into the brutal night with a flashlight and returning with a mental picture that Rob skillfully put into practice.
We now had to wrestle this giant wheel out to the airplane through the snow.... grunting ... it flops over ...AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!
GGGGRRRRRRR!!!!!!F*ck this! F**** that!!!!
Cold it was ... a still biting cold.
Our problems had just begun.
The aircraft was perched very precariously on jacks. This would not have been possible had the wind been blowing a mere three knots or so. We were lucky. No wind.
A fog had enveloped us and the cold snow now chirped and squeeked when walked upon.
The lights under which we laboured barely escaped a few yards or more. An erie glow surrounded us.
It took two of us to stand the wheel up to the axle but the jack leaked allowing the airplane to sag and settle slowly but we failed to time the shove ... time after time we struggled .. it took such effort to control the frustrated outbursts ... making sure we did not aim our vehemence at each other.
Comradeship was sacred at this point. And loyalty to each other was one thing we could count on.
The chalet should be closing anytime now. It's late .. after midnight. Cold .. bloody cold.
Sometimes , bouts of inappropriate laughter had us collapsing in heaps on the snow as we referred to "the romance of aviation" or the fact we had reached the pinicle of our careers.
"If only we had someone to work the jack." Rob said wishfully. We were alone. There were some who wanted us to fail.
We gather the last of our strength for one last effort.
The camp hummed in the background , somewhere over there in the thick fog.
A squeek ... was that a footstep? ... and another. Somebody was carefully feeling their way towards us ..a shape ... devoid of form .. cloaked.
We stared silently waiting for this creature to reveal its identity.
It was Cowboy Jim.
"Ah am here to help you boys" drawled Cowboy Jim. "Why! Ah just can't beleive what the fat fella was saying up in the bar." he continued.
"Which fat fellow?" I asked. I already knew the answer.
"The one whose eyes seem too close together , he always has three rum and cokes in front of him , he's pig eyed by now" explains Jim slowly.
We have a match , thinks I.
Jim told us how the engineer laughed at our efforts and laughed at the faulty jack and told everybody what a piece of crap these planes were. And how he was to pocket lots of dough with two paychecks coming in.
"They'll NEVER get those brakes done let alone get the wheel on." the fat one had grunted and he guffawed at our expense.
"I'm here to help." said the Cowboy and help he did. We easilly slid the wheel onto the axle and everything was lockwired accordingly and the airplane was lowered safely to the ground. Whew! Now all we had to do was replace the winch and look at the heater.
At 4am we decided to get some sleep so we could arise before dawn to get the airplane ready for a trip tomorrow ... when the fog lifts. So we crashed into our bunks and only seconds later the alarm rang at six.
Last edited by Duke Elegant; 19th Mar 2004 at 04:34.