Early 1970s, El Mirage, Region 12s. Weak day, so free distance is
called.

Teenage me was crewing for my instructor who was flying a Zugvogel.
Off he goes, and promptly lands at a strip 12 miles away. We get
there
quickly, derig (not as simple as today's glass birds - open trailer,
lotsa
nuts and bolts, etc., all pulled by a 1960 Desoto), and race back to
El Mirage.

My instructor starts rigging immediately - its now after 3 pm, and
contest
rules say that the last launch has to happen by 4 pm as I recall. His
wife,
smelling a rat, starts screeching: "No, oh no, oh no you don't!!"

Rigging complete, we push to the line and launch him with a minute or
two
to spare. Off he goes in a different direction, and lands about 40
miles
away. As we derig the Zugvogel for the second time that day, my
instructor says: "Well, that was better than 12 miles!"

Flying is more fun than crewing, but *nothing* in soaring has ever
been more entertaining than crewing for the Fellners.

Rolf