On Tue, 03 Feb 2004 06:23:30 GMT, Richard Lamb
wrote:

A few years back we had an ice age here in Texas when it
actually got cold in the winter. Burrr!
Nearly snowed in San Antonio!

Guys would make one (quick!) pass around the pattern and
crowd around the fire and just LIE about it!

"Naw, not that ccccold up there".
"You get used to it!"
"Thick air today. Lotta lift in it."

And so the next brave soul screws up his courage and blasts
around the pattern (real quick) once.

Ah, the joys of an open cockpit.

Hmmmff. Sam Houston is probably turning over in his grave.

I only flew twice in the last month, but both times it was below
freezing...and I stayed up for almost an hour, each time. The last time, I
had to abort landing at one airport because the snowplows hadn't got done
clearing it...and when I buzzed ^H^H^H^H flew a low approach at another, I
got to wave at the kids sledding down the hill at the end of the runway.

I had some fun the first time, too. It was an absolutely clear, beautiful
day, with the ground temperature at freezing and a 10 knot wind blowing
right down the runway. I was wearing a turtleneck under my Fly Baby denim
shirt, but my leather jacket didn't provide enough warmth even during
preflight. So I added a sweatshirt. For the first time in several years,
I pulled my spandex ski-mask out of the flight bag, and added the brand-new
fleece-lined leather gloves Santa had brought.

The temperfoam pad of Moonraker's seat was ice-hard when I slid down into
the cockpit. The bulky clothes made it a bit tougher to gather the safety
harness straps and plug the headset into the comm system. I was sweating a
bit by the time I'd finally got myself attached to the airplane. The
temperfoam had thawed a bit by then; I made a mental note to re-tighten the
straps before takeoff.

The Continental spun to life, and the propwash hurriedly made me drag up
the ski mask to cover my nose and lower the goggles.

After that, though...the flight was heaven. The airplane performed like a
wonder in the crisp air, aided by a stiff 10 knot wind right down the
runway. It shot off the ground like it was flung by a rubber-band
catapult. As we rose, the snow-capped peaks of the Cascade range lifted
above the horizon. A few bumps due to the wind, otherwise smooth.

I did my usual cold-weather flying routine: Fly to the nearby airports,
and do either a landing or a low pass so people could point and say to each
other, "Look at that idiot in the open-cockpit airplane!" But I was
comfortable...the combination of the leather helmet, ski mask, silk scarf,
and turtleneck nicely kept the drafts away from any skin, and the cozy
cockpit and heater handled the rest.

Back to the home drome after forty-five minutes. I figured if I landed
immediately, my friends would nod knowingly and say, "Guess Ron got too
cold," so I shot some touch-and-goes first. As usual, the cold and the ski
mask made it tough to enunciate on the radio, but people seemed to be able
to decode calls like "Eye Baby Ayht four Ayht down ind f'r touch-and-o on
Eeee four."

After about a half-dozen bump-and-runs, I decided to call it a day. 'Raker
was a bit low on gas, and I prefer to tank up on Avgas in the winter. So I
taxied up to the gas pumps.

Next to the pumps, I saw the new airport manager (whom I know fairly well),
one of the airport staff, and a buddy huddled around an open equipment box
installed on the wind-swept ramp. The Superunicom was down, and they were
trying to get it working again.

It's a fact of life that if you live in the Seattle area and don't own an
open-cockpit airplane, you do NOT own much in the way of cold-weather gear.
Seattlites may own five brands of raincoats, but other than maybe a ski
jacket stuffed in the back of a closet, they're usually not equipped to
spend much time outdoors in the cold.

These three guys certainly weren't. With the stiff north wind, the
wind-chill factor was probably in the teens. The manager just had a
topcoat over his suit and the staffer a thin jacket. My buddy had a
leather jacket on, but none of them had gloves or anything on their heads
(old Swiss saying: If your feet are cold, put on your hat).

Me, on the other hand...I was still fairly comfortable. But I'm sure after
their time on the ramp, they probably *really* expected me to be
half-frozen. I shut down Moonraker, took off my headset, climbed out, and
strolled over to them, still wearing my helmet, ski mask, etc.

"You know," I said, eyeing the shivering forms before me, "I would have
picked a warmer day to work on that....." :-)


Ron Wanttaja