Fathers Day - Airwolf Style

Two - Four - Foxtrot - Tango - Niner, requesting clearance for takeoff - over.

This is flight control, you are cleared for takeoff - over.

I roll on to the collective and feel the ground affect.  The rotor wash is blowing papers all over the place. 

THIS IS NOT A TOY –pppppfffft! How can something this much fun not be a toy?

The skids get light and she begins to hover.  Now I am getting a bird’s eye view of the house.  It seems so tiny at this altitude as I am now easily THOUSANDS of millimeters off the ground.

I was seventeen when I flew the first time in an A-Star helicopter to a remote location in the mountains.  I have never forgotten the experience, and have flown in many helicopters since as a requirement of my job. 

I pilot this baby into a fairly uneasy hover, kinda wobbly at best as the winds are high today, mostly as the result of the open window...or maybe the air conditioning.  My flight suit is a little warm for a day like today, but it looks cool with my shades.  I get strange looks, but they are just jealous because they have never felt G-Force in the range of 0.2.

The best flight was west of Nordegg where we hovered over Klein Glacier and dropped the nose into a dive off the mountain cliff, my guts flew to my throat and I was hooked.

Alright, it is time to see what this baby can do.  I have at least three minutes of fuel with Veteran status of nearly 30 minutes of flying experience.  I roll onto the collective and pitch the aircraft to gain some airspeed and lift.  My Kung Fu reflexes are poised; I pull back on the stick and get ready to throw this aircraft into a hammerhead.

Every time I fly it makes me giddy.  There is nothing like it. Should a person chase a passion at all costs?

Something is dreadfully wrong.  The helicopter is rolling, and I panic, overcompensate on the yaw, the aircraft is out of control.  Mayday! Mayday! Flight control we are headed for a collision.....with the lamp.....or maybe the TV......Nope straight into the pilot.  I throw up my arm in a Kung Fu palm sweeping block just the moment before impact.  The rotor slices my finger tip in two and the spinning blades make a scene as gory as a Friday the Thirteenth horror film. My life flashes before my eyes and one thing is evident; the box was right THIS IS NOT A TOY.

I need band aids.  Lots of them.  And gauze. And maybe a doctor.

After showing her my fourteen band aid index finger, I wonder if my wife regrets buying me a remote control helicopter for father’s day?  What a strange, but extremely thoughtful gift.  I get a real kick out of this thing, probably because I am such a kid at heart, but also because of the brain power and dexterity it requires to fly.  This takes some Kung Fu like focus. Just goes to show you challenges can come in the smallest and deadliest of packages.

Two - Four - Foxtrot - Tango – Niner over and out.

Captain Vince “Splitfinger” Krebs.