Airport Cafe

At other times, in other restaurants, he would be the guy to be studiously
avoided, like a stray dog that looked friendly. In a freeway restaurant, or
a hotel lobby, he would be the old guy that would cause you to avert your
eyes and quicken your step, for fear of endless, repetitive conversation
that might tie up your whole day.

But not here. For this was an airport cafe, and that meant that this fellow
was likely a combination of unofficial airport historian, court jester,
and -- most importantly -- a survivor of many years of flying. As such, his
eccentricities could be overlooked, his unshaven, disheveled appearance
ignored, and his habit of talking to anyone and everyone became endearing.

Rudy was just such a guy, and he came into our lives this past weekend.

We, as always, were late for breakfast. This far into the early afternoon,
there were only a few of us dining, and not much left to see on the ramp, so
we partook of that grand old tradition known everywhere as "hangar flying."
Within minutes we all knew what the others had flown, and where they were
from, and a feeling of camaraderie and warmth combined with hot coffee and
tea to make for a most agreeable atmosphere.

Into this temple of aviation walked Rudy. We have all seen his kind; he
was the old guy sitting by himself at the airport cafe, with a bit of egg
yolk stuck in the corner of his mouth. Lean, tall and lanky, with a shock
of tousled gray hair that belied his age, his easy demeanor with the
waitress and familiarity with the menu pegged him as that mainstay of
airport restaurants everywhere -- he was a "Regular."

We usually stand out in an airport crowd, thanks to our kids (isn't that
sad?), and here was no different. Sizing us up from across the dining room,
the old man quickly took a shine to us, and we were soon chatting amiably
about Iowa, football, and flying until our food came -- whereupon our hunger
overtook our manners, and we settled into a silent reverie over corned beef
hash and eggs smothered with biscuit gravy...

But the silence didn't last long.

Pushing 80, Rudy was clearly a man on a mission, and not the type to sit
quietly for long. Soon we were discussing Cirrus Design, soaring, and float
planes. He had flown his own planes for many years, but had stopped flying
some years ago, not because of any physical problems, but because he had
found a new, all-encompassing love: Classic cars. More importantly, the
cars of his youth. He and his wife were founding members of a Packard Car
Club, and they now traveled the country attending car shows and forums.

Silently aghast at how anyone could be drawn away from flying by a mere
automobile, I politely hummed and hawed about cars, too, but my heart wasn't
in it. The conversation slowly ground down, and we were momentarily
distracted by a Navion on the ramp. Soon, silence reigned, and I went
back to my newspaper.

As we all finished breakfast, Rudy looked us over with a gleam in his eye,
and asked the kids if they'd like to go see "an old, 1928 Packard." Not
sure how to respond, they looked at me with questioning eyes, and I
responded with a wary "Sure!" Soon we were ambling out to the parking lot
in Rudy's wake, trying to keep up.

In all the years we had flown to this airport cafe, we had never, ever been
off the airport -- so the parking lot was a strange, new world. Much to our
amazement, there sat a real, live "Bonnie & Clyde" gangster car, complete
with hood ornament, running boards and a place to hide your Tommy gun! As
we neared this amazing old vehicle, Rudy was absolutely alive, answering our
non-stop questions ("How fast will it go?" "How big is the engine?") and
gleefully showing us the bizarre and amazing features of his 77 year-old
gem.

Then he looked at Rebecca, winked, and asked her if she'd like to take her
family for a ride? By then firmly entranced by the old man, the kids and
Mary gleefully clambered up the big running boards and settled into the
capacious back seat. It was incredible -- my 15 year old son could LAY DOWN
on the seat, and his feet couldn't touch the back of the front seats!

I found my way into the passenger front seat, next to Rudy, and he fired up
that big 'ol in-line 6 cylinder engine. It started instantly and easily,
and ran as smooth as any V-12. With gracious, practiced movements that can
only come from a lifetime of experience, Rudy manipulated the unusual (and
unlabeled) controls with ease, and we were soon trundling down the road.

Every, single person we passed stopped, stared, smiled, and waved. Rudy
always waved back, and soon, so did we. As the conversation continued, the
ride grew longer, until we were miles from the airport, enjoying the warm
day and the Packard's unique "flow-through ventilation" (the windshield
could be opened up "in flight"!) all the while marveling that a piece of
equipment could run so perfectly after nearly eight decades. With sterling
silver door handles and enough headroom to easily wear a top hat, it soon
became clear that we had made little progress in automotive engineering
since 1928.

Too soon Rudy returned us to the airport, where he produced a Packard Club
magazine, proudly showing him doing a hand stand, on a chair, balanced on
two inverted water glasses! The photo was over 55 years old, and a truly
amazing feat -- but he was far more proud of the next picture, taken just
last year, showing him doing a similar hand stand at age 77!

Before long it was time for us to head back to Iowa City. Rapier sharp,
Rudy remembered all of our names, bid each of us adieu individually, and
left us gazing in awe as this amazing old man drove off in his remarkable
time machine.

All the way back to Iowa City I couldn't help but ponder the strange
attraction that airport cafes have for the best of people, even for those
who no longer fly. In my experience, no other place is so imbued with such
a powerful appeal for the doers and dreamers amongst us. And on this day,
at this time, we were made all the richer because of one selfless old man,
one beautiful old car, and our ability to let down our guard in the natural
ambience and warmth of the airport cafe.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
news:ZbMXe.354359$_o.50707@attbi_s71...
At other times, in other restaurants, he would be the guy to be studiously
avoided, like a stray dog that looked friendly. In a freeway restaurant,
or a hotel lobby, he would be the old guy that would cause you to avert
your eyes and quicken your step, for fear of endless, repetitive
conversation that might tie up your whole day.


Snip

Copy ... Paste ... Save ... Thanks

Jay B

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
news:ZbMXe.354359$_o.50707@attbi_s71...

Another great story, Jay!
Where is this airport cafe?

("Jay Honeck" wrote)
[snips]
Classic cars. More importantly, the cars of his youth. He and his wife
were founding members of a Packard Car Club, and they now traveled the
country attending car shows and forums.


As we all finished breakfast, Rudy looked us over with a gleam in his eye,
and asked the kids if they'd like to go see "an old, 1928 Packard." Not
sure how to respond, they looked at me with questioning eyes, and I
responded with a wary "Sure!" Soon we were ambling out to the parking
lot in Rudy's wake, trying to keep up.

In all the years we had flown to this airport cafe, we had never, ever
been off the airport -- so the parking lot was a strange, new world. Much
to our amazement, there sat a real, live "Bonnie & Clyde" gangster car,
complete with hood ornament, running boards and a place to hide your Tommy
gun! As we neared this amazing old vehicle, Rudy was absolutely alive,
answering our non-stop questions ("How fast will it go?" "How big is the
engine?") and gleefully showing us the bizarre and amazing features of
his 77 year-old gem.


Connie, the gal from the theater who came to OSH last year - 2004, was a
member of the Packard Car Club. They used to travel around the country in
their Packards - I believe one was a 1951.

Flashback to 1977 or 1978 at Woodbury High School's parking lot (Twin
Cities - St. Paul side) ....100's of Packards showed up one day. I was
working as a lifeguard at the school pool that day. They were having a big
rally. 100's of these beautiful classic cars staged at our school during the
day - don't recall if they were *in* from Chicago or heading *to* Chicago?

Me on the phone to Pops:
"No, I don't want to drop everything to go look at some old cars."
"They're Packards, 100's of them - mostly black."
"I'll reschedule my afternoon and be there in 20 minutes!"


Montblack

Jay Honeck concluded a great post with....
All the way back to Iowa City I couldn't help but ponder the strange
attraction that airport cafes have for the best of people, even for those
who no longer fly. In my experience, no other place is so imbued with
such
a powerful appeal for the doers and dreamers amongst us. And on this day,
at this time, we were made all the richer because of one selfless old man,
one beautiful old car, and our ability to let down our guard in the
natural
ambience and warmth of the airport cafe.


A truly great post, Jay. I grew up (still am, I guess) here in the wilds of
Southern California. The first 4 years of my life were spent at a small
little airport in Huntington Beach called Meadowlark, and on the grounds was
of course a cafe where you could meet people like you describe day in and
day out. The airport is now gone, though it lives on in memory and online
( www.l16.com ). One of the most colorful characters to frequent that
airport was a guy by the name of Ray Rice. He used to drive trucks, fly a
Tri-Pacer, and be in the constant company of his small dog, all of which
have since passed from his life. Looking at him, you might be a bit wary.

But if you had the fortune to know him, you knew he was one of the most
genuine, honest, and caring people in the world. If you wanted to talk about
anything aviation, he was up for it and probably had a half dozen stories to
go with it. He had a knack for getting himself into interesting, even
amazing, places - talking his way up to the tops of control towers during
airshows, rides in the Goodyear blimp, etc. Anyone who's been around Chino,
Flabob, Riverside, and other So Cal airports enough has surely seen him.
Chances are he had his trusty camera with him.

He passed away last December, having stepped off a curb too early to cross a
major street not far from our house. The last few years he didn't have a
permanent residence, but we were sort of his adopted family and he was
always welcome in our home. The paper listed the death of "an older man,
possibly a drifter." Oh if they only knew....


-Tony Goetz

Great Story Jay!

We all know someone like that.

Bill Snow
Cape Cod

Jay,
Now that you are Packard-qualified (second officer?) you should make
another addition onto your list of places to fly. In eastern Ohio,
Warren, OH there is a wonderful Packard museum (the Packard family
started in Warren). In July there is a drive-in of Packards from all
over. Last year I think they had at least one from every year they were
made! The museum has some really beautiful ones, and classic motorcycles
also.

Land at YNG or visit us at UCP and will take you over anytime.

Bill N535TW

He passed away last December, having stepped off a curb too early to cross
a
major street not far from our house. The last few years he didn't have a
permanent residence, but we were sort of his adopted family and he was
always welcome in our home. The paper listed the death of "an older man,
possibly a drifter." Oh if they only knew....

Thanks, Tony. So many of these old fellows are only looking for someone to
talk to -- if only we could take the time to listen, we all might learn
something.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

Now that you are Packard-qualified (second officer?) you should make
another addition onto your list of places to fly. In eastern Ohio, Warren,
OH there is a wonderful Packard museum (the Packard family started in
Warren). In July there is a drive-in of Packards from all over. Last year
I think they had at least one from every year they were made! The museum
has some really beautiful ones, and classic motorcycles also.

Neat. Rudy also mentioned that there is a Packard museum somewhere in
Wisconsin?
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

Where is this airport cafe?

Janesville, WI. (JVL)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"