2:18 AM Forum Check

Good morning Eggheads…

I was hanging out at the local airport really wanting to learn to fly but didn’t have the coins to make it happen. Red Hamilton, a crop duster friend and pilot from back before they started making specialty aircraft just for crop spraying, asked me if I wanted to ride along with him to go check out a new field he had to spray. Well hell yea! Otherwise, his dog, Malfunction, would tag along. Not this time Mal… I was ready for that adventure.

Well, Red was known for pulling shenanigans of all sorts and I wasn’t going to be surprised if he pulled one here. I was ready for him to do a stall or something but he didn’t have to do any of that. The ride itself was one thrill after another from the minute we got in the plane. From that moment on I don’t think he ever once achieved what pilots like to call ‘straight and level flight.’ He even asked me if I wanted to go for a touch-and-go water landing in the river. I had the feeling he meant he was going to roll his wheels on the water. Another friend who worked with him later said he did that from time to time. I’m glad I declined the offer.

By then we were at the farm on Wallace Ridge, about five miles north of the airport where he was going to spray later on. He pointed to it and immediately did a nose dive over some trees at the edge of the highway, leveling out just above the cotton crop that felt just inches below us, but probably more like two feet. It was just a blur. Seconds later we were headed right into a thicket of tall trees at the other edge of the field. He pulled sharply up and immediately rolled over on his port wing returning right alongside the path we just took and headed back to, you guessed it, the trees on the other side of the field by the highway. He did this a couple ‘a more times and that’s when I noticed there were trees scattered out in the field with the cotton growing pretty much right up to the base of the trees. Yep! He got real close to all that too just by banking sharply then banking back, right on track. The man could definitely fly.

Each time he went down or pulled up all I could do was laugh. I suppose I could have screamed or cried or messed my pants but no, all I felt like doing was laughing. This was an absolute thrill I might never get the chance to do again. And as it turned out, it was my last time in a crop duster because the Cub was soon replaced by a new one-seater Pawnee Crop Dusting plane. I would never again be able to enjoy the experience of flying with him that close to the ground. But I can say with full certainty that on that day, in that Super Cub, over that patch of cotton, I was as close to Heaven both literally and metaphorically, as I probably would ever be.

Red was one of those rare individuals who felt more at home in a plane than on the ground. Even so, he had a knack for making friends anywhere we went. Like one time he borrowed a Mooney and three of us flew to New Orleans to go to the Playboy club on Rue Iberville in the French Quarter. He had somehow scrounged up some complementary ‘keys’ and asked me to come along.

Surprisingly, he actually owned a sport coat, such as it was. He stored it rolled up in a paper sack. It was also years out of style. Never one to be ill prepared, he brought along a steam iron to press it before we left our hotel. Back in those days you had to dress up a lot more than what we do now to go to a place as nice as the Playboy Club. The three of us headed out to yet another adventure.

Just getting to the French Quarter was a trip and a half. The cab driver drove like Red flew. They got along fine.

Anyway, we eventually got there, showed our cards and made our way through the first and second floors taking in the sights as we went. My mouth still suffers from ‘slack-jaw’ from that experience, but eventually we made it up to the penthouse where a man and woman, him on the piano and her on drums, were playing soft jazz and whatever else felt good. We ordered drinks that were like $2.00 each (a fortune to us) but they were simply charged to our account, or someone else’s account because I don’t remember paying for anything. Otherwise, I’d been charged a hundred dollars just for looking.

We were seated at a table right there amongst the rich and famous. The piano guy started softly playing Autumn Leaves and the small crowd calmed down to listen. It was absolutely beautiful. Then out of the blue, Red started lightly whistling to the tune with a sort of warbling type whistle that made the piano music sound even better. Everyone, including the pianist and drummer were looking at Red in complete amazement. Me too. I didn’t know he could do that. When it was over he got an ovation and stood up to take a bow.

The piano and drums started up once more and so did Red. But the pianist stopped and told Red, “This one’s mine.” To which Red just nodded. After that the band took a break and all of a sudden we were surrounded by anyone who could get close to us. They all wanted to know more about his whistling. Was he a performer somewhere? How did he do it? Could he demonstrate it for them? Can we buy you guys a drink? Some even had the Photo Bunny take Red’s picture with them. It was one heck of a night for someone who never again set foot inside a Playboy club.

We barely made it back to the hotel before dawn made a little crack. Then back in the Mooney headed north. Oooops, I wish I had checked the plumbing before we left because my sensors were acting up something terrible. Then I came out of dreamstate and automatically responded to the pending crisis the way I was trained. Another problem solved and another adventure re-lived.

Better check the Forum. Yep, still there and functioning, safe-guarded by 26 Members and 281 Guests. Good enough.

Say goodnight Leroy.

Spring “Every Day Is An Experience But Some Are Way Better Than Others” Chicken
Spring Texas USA