The first plane I took lessons in was based at a small field and run by a freelance instructor who had a difficult relationship with Transport Canada that was not apparent to me at the time.
I had booked a lesson on the weekend, but got a call from the instructor asking if I knew where a workmate who was also taking lessons was -- and was also told that the plane was missing; so the lesson had to be postponed.
That evening I was having a coffee with my sis and looking at the late night paper when I spotted a piccie of "my" plane in a ball on a flatbed trailer. The registration was visible.
One of his students was a young fella with a couple kids already who at a party one dark and stormy night, persuaded a buddy or two to go flying with him. They ended up not far away in a ball of metal that you could put your arms around.
The instructor was phoning his student list to see who was alive to pick up the phone.
Last edited by RatherBeFlying; 3rd Jan 2013 at 18:47.