Great reporting Gunship - once again you show us we are not just aluminium taxi drivers after all - on a similiar thread......
One day whilst flying over African skies with a 'respected' senior captain (Who we shall refer to as CLEVER DICK) on one of those non-stop-long-haul-point-to-point-don't-ask-for-a-refund flights I amassed the courage to ask how he became a pilot. The response I received was not quite what I expected, and after first thinking he was having me on - he eventually convinced me of it's truth - he simply responded "I STOLE A PLANE"
DICK was like most of us out there - he loved anything that had wings - planes, birds, butterflies - he didn't care a hoot. He would spend hours upon hours 'spotting' at the various airports around which he lived until he could name everything and anything that came within his gaze. This soon turned into hanging out at the local airport, doing 'hangar talk' with the LAME's, washing other peoples aircraft for that ellusive chance of a joy ride that seldom came.
Around his 16th Birthday his life took an unexpected turn when he was asked to make a quick few bucks and wash a plane that had just returned from a weekend in the bush and resembled an exploded cow turd! As was usual the owner left the key with CLEVER as he was authorised to taxi the aircraft back to the hangar after it's washdown and put the plane to bed so to speak.
It was late in the afternoon by the time DICK finished and as he quietly surveyed the small local airport located far from town he realised that he was all alone. Sighing to himself in one of those 'Is this as good as it gets' CLEVER suddenly had a wicked idea - What if he could just take the plane for a little jaunt - knowone would suspect a thing - he would be back before anyone realised he had even gone.
CD positioned himself inside the cockpit, fastened his seatbelt, surveyed all the instruments he had longed to oneday himself command and turned the key. The engine roared to life and off he went. DICK tried to convince himself that it was just like usual - taxi a couple of times around the hangar and park the plane - but this time his 'taxi' would require the use of all the flight controls.
CLEVER scowered the airport from left to right as he taxied for the small runway, hoping to avoid the ultimate embarrasement of being 'caught in the act'. Lining up he made the checks as per the checklist and slowly applied power - the aircraft responded and surged forward ready to take once again to the air in the hands of this rokkie. At 65kts he eased back on the control as he had watched other pilots do and rather unsteadly the little plane lifted off into the great unknown.
After 'teaching himself' the basics of flying as per all the flying magazines he had ever read - the though occured to CLEVER - I have to get this little flea back on the ground in one piece or I will certainly be in the poo! DICK considered his options - to attempt a landing back at the small airport with it's narrow short runway was virtual suicide and so he decided some practise landings were the order of the day. Where better to do this than on a nearby salt pan that seemed to stretch out forever in all directions.
After a couple of practise approaches CD touched down rather abruptly in the middle of knowhere, and so ended his first flight. CLEVER was however only half way finished as a sucessful mission required him to return the plane unscathed to the airport of his illicit departure and place it nicely in the hangar. DICK's legs began to wobble - he was starting to lose it - the pressure - how could he cope? He blocked everything and applied full power once again to the little bird.
In what seemed like seconds the little plane was once again airborne and off to it's final destination. After making a practise landing on a nearby ROAD, CD continued to the airport where he excuted a 2 and half point landing deep into the short runway. By applying heavy braking CLEVER managed to pull up the little bandit with 'some' room to spare and quickly exited the runway. Upon his return to the hangar DICK once again surveyed the landscape for signs of life, but to his good fortune only a few stray birds took any notice of his arrival.
CLEVER DICK performed this feat many times until one day he was granted a pilots licence - and until this day knowone ever knew just where his 'gift' of flying came from.
MORAL of the story - There are those that dream about it and those that just say 'What the F..K why not'
