Ever made yourself look a complete prat??
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Ever made yourself look a complete prat??
I was at some sort of wedding anniversary party for the parents of a friend of my partner. We four youngsters and lots of old people. We got paired off with Uncle Harry and his wife for drinks because "he's interested in helicopters". Uncle Harry was obviously retired, a totally non-descripit "Senior Citizen" complete with grey suit, tie and nice clean black shoes. Now I am usually extremely tolerant and courteous when people ask the same old questions about helicopters,but...for some reason that day I had my Intolerant Head on.
The conversation went something like..
H : So you are a helicopter pilot?
ST: Mmmm.
H: You must enjoy it?
ST:Mmmm.
H:What sort of helicopter do you fly
ST: (to his eternal shame) A little red, white and blue one
H: Sorry, a what?
ST: Just a small one
H: Oh, what sort?
ST
Looking round for the bar) Its called a Bell Jetranger
H: What sort of an engine does it have?
ST: (Thinks : this will get me out of this conversation) An Alison 250 C20. Thats a small gas turbine engine.
H: Ah yes, Alison. Aren't they owned by Rolls Royce now?
ST: (Silence while I think about this)
ST: Yes they are. How do you know?
H: I used to work for Rolls Royce
ST: (prepared to curl up and die) and what did you do there, Harry?
H: Design and Development Engineer, Aero engines Division
Oh b@gger. I'll get my coat.
The conversation went something like..
H : So you are a helicopter pilot?
ST: Mmmm.
H: You must enjoy it?
ST:Mmmm.
H:What sort of helicopter do you fly
ST: (to his eternal shame) A little red, white and blue one
H: Sorry, a what?
ST: Just a small one
H: Oh, what sort?
ST
Looking round for the bar) Its called a Bell JetrangerH: What sort of an engine does it have?
ST: (Thinks : this will get me out of this conversation) An Alison 250 C20. Thats a small gas turbine engine.
H: Ah yes, Alison. Aren't they owned by Rolls Royce now?
ST: (Silence while I think about this)
ST: Yes they are. How do you know?
H: I used to work for Rolls Royce
ST: (prepared to curl up and die) and what did you do there, Harry?
H: Design and Development Engineer, Aero engines Division
Oh b@gger. I'll get my coat.
Working in an isolated Northern hunting camp with some cartographers mapping a hydro project, when a GPS receiver was the size of a suitcase and required a tripod, dish and at least three hours to collect enough data to be any use, after you told it where it was. These guys were all engineers. They were having one of their nightly computer issues trying to make sense of the days data, when the camp caretaker, an old guy in tattered clothes with a white beard to his bellybutton, the guy I just asked for another cord of wood, offered to help. Ammused they told him sure. To our amazement his fingers danced across the keyboard and he had everything sorted in a few minutes. Turned out he was a former professor at Cal-Tec, and helped design the ICBM guidance systems at Linton.
Also, strutting out of the can at the FBO in my flight suit after another heroric medevac (gas pains I think), my shiny 222 out on the ramp, I see this tiny airplane parked next to us. Piping up, "whose is that tiny thing?"
An larger, older fellow steps up beside me, claims it's his "tiny thing". Turns out he's a CEO of a major corp. and flew F14's for the US Navy, out on a fishing trip with a buddy.
Stay tuned, I'm sure to stick my foot in my mouth again shortly, its been awhile.
Also, strutting out of the can at the FBO in my flight suit after another heroric medevac (gas pains I think), my shiny 222 out on the ramp, I see this tiny airplane parked next to us. Piping up, "whose is that tiny thing?"
An larger, older fellow steps up beside me, claims it's his "tiny thing". Turns out he's a CEO of a major corp. and flew F14's for the US Navy, out on a fishing trip with a buddy.
Stay tuned, I'm sure to stick my foot in my mouth again shortly, its been awhile.
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This didn't actually happen to me, but to a friend. He works for a fixed wing tour operator operating 'barn storming adventures'. Anyway, upon the return of a flight a young girl and her father get out of the plane. The young girl has her coat slung around her shoulders. "Was it so cold that your arm froze off?" He asks. Girl and father laugh half heartedly. "Did you stick your arm out of the cockpit and the wind pulled it off?" Girl and father laugh half heartedly. Much to the alarm of his colleagues he continues down this thread for a while enjoying making the kind folks laugh with his great gags until he eventually realises that, yes, she is an amputee.
Personally, well I had to take a very nervous passenger out in one of our 300's. After lots of assurances from everyone that yes, he's a good pilot and yes, he knows what he's doing and yes, it's very safe, we get in. With all the family (I mean ALL the family) watching I then proceed to flood the engine completley, making for the worst sounding start in history and then as I start to engage the rotor (manually with the switch), I'm too slow to place the switch in hold and stall the engine. End of flight. Needless to say that is the only time I have ever stalled the engine during rotor engagement.
Personally, well I had to take a very nervous passenger out in one of our 300's. After lots of assurances from everyone that yes, he's a good pilot and yes, he knows what he's doing and yes, it's very safe, we get in. With all the family (I mean ALL the family) watching I then proceed to flood the engine completley, making for the worst sounding start in history and then as I start to engage the rotor (manually with the switch), I'm too slow to place the switch in hold and stall the engine. End of flight. Needless to say that is the only time I have ever stalled the engine during rotor engagement.
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I would post the stories of how I've managed to do the whole "teaching your grandmother to suck eggs" routine, but sadly, pprune won't allow posts with more than 12,000 characters, so I'd need to post about 40 or 50 messages to finish 
Iconoclast
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Was my face red.
I don’t know if I came off as a prat but I was most certainly embarrassed.
When I was working as a Field Rep on the Atlas missile our pads were to be going on EWO (Emergency War Orders) where our birds would be fitted with Hydrogen bombs. In order to get EWO status all personnel had to undergo an interrogation much like the verbal dissertations made by a PHD candidate. Many of the guys that went before me didn’t fair too well. I was afraid I would meet the same end.
I was brought into the room and sat down in a chair facing an empty table. However, sitting behind me were the President of Convair, the director of product support, the director of field service and my immediate supervisor and several other individuals. Then a door opened and in walked a group of senior officers (Colonels, Lt. Colonels and Majors including one Senior Master Sergeant. As one, they all shouted “hey, it’s Lu Zuckerman. I had previously been an instructor in San Diego and all of these people had been my students. At that time It was around Christmas and my wife had made a slew of Bourbon balls. They were packed full in two shoeboxes and I split them between my morning and afternoon classes. There was a lot of humor injected between technical points so all went well while the students were quietly getting loaded.
The officers and the sergeant harkened back to those days and the senior Colonel stated “ Hell, Lu knows his systems”. “Lu if you can tell three jokes that we have never heard we will pass you”.
So I sat there checking my memory banks and came up with the required three jokes and all of this with the people behind me wondering what the hell was going on. The military personnel all laughed but there wasn’t a murmur from the group behind me. I was certificated but needless to say I did a lot of bookwork to fully understand the systems I was responsible for.
When I was working as a Field Rep on the Atlas missile our pads were to be going on EWO (Emergency War Orders) where our birds would be fitted with Hydrogen bombs. In order to get EWO status all personnel had to undergo an interrogation much like the verbal dissertations made by a PHD candidate. Many of the guys that went before me didn’t fair too well. I was afraid I would meet the same end.
I was brought into the room and sat down in a chair facing an empty table. However, sitting behind me were the President of Convair, the director of product support, the director of field service and my immediate supervisor and several other individuals. Then a door opened and in walked a group of senior officers (Colonels, Lt. Colonels and Majors including one Senior Master Sergeant. As one, they all shouted “hey, it’s Lu Zuckerman. I had previously been an instructor in San Diego and all of these people had been my students. At that time It was around Christmas and my wife had made a slew of Bourbon balls. They were packed full in two shoeboxes and I split them between my morning and afternoon classes. There was a lot of humor injected between technical points so all went well while the students were quietly getting loaded.
The officers and the sergeant harkened back to those days and the senior Colonel stated “ Hell, Lu knows his systems”. “Lu if you can tell three jokes that we have never heard we will pass you”.
So I sat there checking my memory banks and came up with the required three jokes and all of this with the people behind me wondering what the hell was going on. The military personnel all laughed but there wasn’t a murmur from the group behind me. I was certificated but needless to say I did a lot of bookwork to fully understand the systems I was responsible for.
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In a previous life I was a newspaper executive in Fleet Street. We had uniformed messengers, almost all of them long past retirement age and filling in time with humdrum tasks - going to the library for cuttings, fetching the tea and so forth. One old chap, rather small and wizened, was especially obliging. He expressed interest when he found out I was a helicopter pilot, but you know how it is, busy busy busy, never get time to chat. I found out at his leaving do that he'd been Willie Tait's bomb aimer and had hit the Tirpitz.
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Coming back one day from a charter flight, I was told to take an older couple and their daughter from out of town up on a local sightseeing flight. I figured they thought I looked real smart as I escorted them across the ramp, leading the way in my crisp charter uniform. The helicopter was parked on its dolly and, as I arrived at the aircraft, I took an energetic leap to get up onto the platform. When I did, my foot slipped off the side and I fell flat on my face, half on the dolly and half on the concrete. Looking around, clutching my jaw, I saw my stunned passengers slow down, hesitate, unsure if they still wanted to get into the air with a pilot so lacking in motor skills.
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I was scrambled on a mission in the Great Two Way Rifle Range, having tossed my flight suit and boots to the sound of the alert bell while running toward the Cobra I flew. We worked all night, refuelling and rearming several times, with the whole Troop alerted to build up rockets from the ammo dump to help turn us around quickly.
Things quieted down just at dawn, when the bad guys melted back into the jungle. I landed back on the ramp, shut down and handed my helmet to the crew chief, who looked up with obvious admiration at this Combat Aviator back from a difficult night.
As I dismounted from the Snake, I had to swing my outboard leg onto the tiny little step along the right side (Cobra pilots will follow this easily, it becomes muscle memory) then swing the inboard leg out, do a quick hop to switch feet on the 3 inch wide step, and reach the right foot to the skid. As I did this, I realized that I'd never tied my boots, so the laces were now trapped under the other boot on that step. One brief session of Three Stooges arm windmilling, followed by a complete header down to the hard ramp, head first. Out cold, I was awakened by that same crew chief, who now fully understood that the Combat Aviator was also a gawky 20 year old kid.
Things quieted down just at dawn, when the bad guys melted back into the jungle. I landed back on the ramp, shut down and handed my helmet to the crew chief, who looked up with obvious admiration at this Combat Aviator back from a difficult night.
As I dismounted from the Snake, I had to swing my outboard leg onto the tiny little step along the right side (Cobra pilots will follow this easily, it becomes muscle memory) then swing the inboard leg out, do a quick hop to switch feet on the 3 inch wide step, and reach the right foot to the skid. As I did this, I realized that I'd never tied my boots, so the laces were now trapped under the other boot on that step. One brief session of Three Stooges arm windmilling, followed by a complete header down to the hard ramp, head first. Out cold, I was awakened by that same crew chief, who now fully understood that the Combat Aviator was also a gawky 20 year old kid.
Iconoclast
Join Date: Sep 2000
Location: The home of Dudley Dooright-Where the lead dog is the only one that gets a change of scenery.
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Was my face red.
While working on the V-22 program I got into a conversation with a design manager. The subject of the conversation hit on various points including small helicopters. I spouted off on the problems with the B-206 and then got on the subject of the Enstrom line. I told the manager that I had considered the Enstrom Shark a piece of crap. That is until I actually got close to one and then I realized that it was put together quite well and that the rotorhead design and finish really impressed me. I found out a bit later that the manager’s father designed the Enstrom Helicopters and that he (the manager) used to work with his father during his summer vacations from his University.
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While breifing nurses and doctors in frount of a shiny new 412 on the pad at the Royal Darwin hospital, I told them that we had a, "full compliment of cervical collars on board". Of course I pronunced it as "sir-ve-cal" not "sir-vi-ee-cal". This not only caused a great deal of laughter but also produced a great deal of questioning as to how they were fitted.
We were in Mt Hagen in 1976 for the Queen's tour of PNG. All the Chimbus and other jungle bunnies had come out of the bush to see "Missis Kwin bilong all" and were in their greatest finery - head-dresses of feathers and leaves, their best fresh arse-grass, and a bone through the nose. If you were REALLY cool, you had a yellow Bic biro instead of a bone. These natives, known as Branch Managers, were intrigued by our group of Iroquois parked on the field.
One of the pilots, eager to show his competence in Pidgin, approached a finely-dressed native and said, "Dispela i kam i plaim balus bilong Jesus Krist i kam wok along top." (This fellow came, flying a helicopter, he came from the sky - or thereabouts, Ted wasn't making too much sense to me either.)
The native looked at him for a moment, then in a rather plummy accent said, "Oh, you're a helicopter pilot, are you?"
One of the pilots, eager to show his competence in Pidgin, approached a finely-dressed native and said, "Dispela i kam i plaim balus bilong Jesus Krist i kam wok along top." (This fellow came, flying a helicopter, he came from the sky - or thereabouts, Ted wasn't making too much sense to me either.)
The native looked at him for a moment, then in a rather plummy accent said, "Oh, you're a helicopter pilot, are you?"
Avoid imitations
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One cold Monday morning (when still masquerading as one of Her Majesty's finest) I cycled the half mile to work dressed as a ruffy-tuffy support helicopter pilot, wearing a freshly laundered and tumble dried green nomex flying suit, cold weather jacket, worst SD hat etc as usual.
I couldn't understand why everyone suddenly seemed so pleased to see me - everyone was smiling broadly and waving to me as I cycled by.
One airman snapped up a mighty salute as I passed, then called across with a grin "Had a good weekend then, Sir?"
As I came out of Met brief everyone seemed to want to talk to me and there was much laughing and joking from the groundcrew as I walked across the hangar.
As I turned for the door after outbriefing to go flying, I noticed something alongside me out of the corner of my eye. I turned again and noticed a pair of my wife's tights stuck on the velcro on the back of my flying suit.
Hey, thanks guys, for not telling me!
A fine macho sight I must have been, tights trailing merrily behind me in the breeze as I cycled along....
I couldn't understand why everyone suddenly seemed so pleased to see me - everyone was smiling broadly and waving to me as I cycled by.
One airman snapped up a mighty salute as I passed, then called across with a grin "Had a good weekend then, Sir?"
As I came out of Met brief everyone seemed to want to talk to me and there was much laughing and joking from the groundcrew as I walked across the hangar.
As I turned for the door after outbriefing to go flying, I noticed something alongside me out of the corner of my eye. I turned again and noticed a pair of my wife's tights stuck on the velcro on the back of my flying suit.
Hey, thanks guys, for not telling me!
A fine macho sight I must have been, tights trailing merrily behind me in the breeze as I cycled along....
Somewhere in middle England, at a police air support unit, a local business man is visiting. He has come to let the 'lads in blue' know that he is going to fly in his own helicopter to a small engineering company, situated alongside the police air base.
Steely eyed, professional (of course), highly experienced, air support pilot (me)......................
"So what is it you fly, an R22 ?"
Business man (suddenly looking very uninterested)
" It's an Agusta 109 actually"
Steely eyed, professional (of course), highly experienced, air support pilot (me)......................
"So what is it you fly, an R22 ?"
Business man (suddenly looking very uninterested)
" It's an Agusta 109 actually"
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Ever made yourself look a complete prat? Yes!
Only a tenuous link to helicopters, but embarrassing nonetheless.
Some years ago, I was invited by friends living in Monaco to spend the Grand Prix weekend with them. Whilst on their balcony waiting for the race to start, my host said 'You must meet X, he flies helicopters' and I was introduced to a long-retired, but still famous, cricketer. After the usual heli small talk, I thought I ought to say something about cricket if only as a matter of courtesy. Problem: I know nothing about cricket, and have even less interest than knowledge. My few suitably complimentary comments about cricket in 'his day' having gone down well, I became more abitious - helped no doubt by the champagne that was flowing freely.
"What I don't understand is, England never seems to do very well, yet we drop an outstanding cricketer like David Gower just because he went off in a Tiger Moth and dropped some flour bombs during practice. It was only a bit of fun. Sometimes we Brits are far too stuffy."
I noticed our group went rather quiet, before the famous cricketer replied, "I'm not sure whether you're saying that to the right man. Or maybe you are?" before going on to give a very different point of view.
Well, how was I to know Ted Dexter was the Chairman of the selectors who dropped Gower!!
Some years ago, I was invited by friends living in Monaco to spend the Grand Prix weekend with them. Whilst on their balcony waiting for the race to start, my host said 'You must meet X, he flies helicopters' and I was introduced to a long-retired, but still famous, cricketer. After the usual heli small talk, I thought I ought to say something about cricket if only as a matter of courtesy. Problem: I know nothing about cricket, and have even less interest than knowledge. My few suitably complimentary comments about cricket in 'his day' having gone down well, I became more abitious - helped no doubt by the champagne that was flowing freely.
"What I don't understand is, England never seems to do very well, yet we drop an outstanding cricketer like David Gower just because he went off in a Tiger Moth and dropped some flour bombs during practice. It was only a bit of fun. Sometimes we Brits are far too stuffy."
I noticed our group went rather quiet, before the famous cricketer replied, "I'm not sure whether you're saying that to the right man. Or maybe you are?" before going on to give a very different point of view.
Well, how was I to know Ted Dexter was the Chairman of the selectors who dropped Gower!!
Avoid imitations
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Hi Bertie,
How's the Lincolnshire weather?
Merry Christmas!
How's the Lincolnshire weather?
Merry Christmas!
Ooops, that reminds me...
Had to drop 3 x fully kitted scuba divers from the back seat of a 206, into the water from the hover as part of a rescue demo. They were briefed on leaving the seatbelts buckled etc, and naturally, both rear doors were off. Exit went well, and flew back to base with a fair bit of airflow buffeting.
Shutdown, climb out, go to tidy up back seat ... I'm sure I had a back seat cushion when I left ... it was securely held in here with ... velcro..
I waited several days for the irate home owner to send us a bill for the roof repair, but it never came. Somewhere, there is a house with a seat cushion on the roof.
Shutdown, climb out, go to tidy up back seat ... I'm sure I had a back seat cushion when I left ... it was securely held in here with ... velcro..
I waited several days for the irate home owner to send us a bill for the roof repair, but it never came. Somewhere, there is a house with a seat cushion on the roof.
Situation:
Me in a very spiffy 500E heading to the company owned grass strip where old Vietnam buddy/company chief pilot lived and company Cessna Caravan and other 500E was parked. Was going to spend the day there waiting for the executives to finish their meeting at Corporate HQ having just dropped my trio off.
Clearing the ridge between town and the airstrip....nose went down...lever stayed up....height above ground dwindled to the height of chimney on Chiefy's company owned house. Speed approaching Warp Two....hard bank as passing the house....just in time to see the Real Boss and Next level Boss standing in the front of the helicopter shed.
Only comment from the Big Boss was "Now look here....we do not pay you to do that."
I took the hint.
Moral to the story.....always do a low recon before you fly low.
Me in a very spiffy 500E heading to the company owned grass strip where old Vietnam buddy/company chief pilot lived and company Cessna Caravan and other 500E was parked. Was going to spend the day there waiting for the executives to finish their meeting at Corporate HQ having just dropped my trio off.
Clearing the ridge between town and the airstrip....nose went down...lever stayed up....height above ground dwindled to the height of chimney on Chiefy's company owned house. Speed approaching Warp Two....hard bank as passing the house....just in time to see the Real Boss and Next level Boss standing in the front of the helicopter shed.
Only comment from the Big Boss was "Now look here....we do not pay you to do that."
I took the hint.
Moral to the story.....always do a low recon before you fly low.