I was FO on Saturday and Jeff Strong was the SFO. Tony Verhulst and Dave Zlotek were busy getting members checked out as well as giving several student instructional flights. Ritts Howard and Tom Matthews also gave some instructional flights. Tow pilots were John Bergeson, John McCoy, Ryan Retelle, and Gerry Bell.
Doug Smith's son took his first official flight lesson. It was a beautiful opening day. I think I launched a thousand and one sailplanes. At least that what my bones tell me. Considering the fact that we only had one tow plane, everything went quit smooth. It was determined early in the day that the field was still too soft so we switched taking off from the tarmac on 34. This did prove to be a challenge for a few folks.
Thanks to new member Dan Baxinet everyone else who helped out to make go smoothly,
Dick Ruel
After visiting my Doctor for a minor infection, on Friday, I was running late for my 10:55 meeting of the rigging party. The crew, consisting of Desi, Ken, and Bob, were all looking at their watches when I rolled in at 11:05. A crew of retired old codgers pretending to look at their watches. Hell, who were they kidding; like me they have to hold the damn things right under their eyes and turn around so that the sun shines directly on the dial, just to get a rough idea of the time. But I was late and took the ribbing like a man, also took my punishment quietly as they made the fat guy get into the back seat of Desi's Beemer for the ride to Barrie for the party.
After a few hours of discussion about anything and everything, we got around to mounting the Blanik wings. As this was my first time doing this, I would like to make the suggestion that we shoot the first member who lands this beast away from an airport. Of course we will have to wait until he or she assists in getting it back to Sterling, rigged again, pays off the crew of twenty with a good meal - but they must be shot. Took five of us a while to do this, no major spilling of blood, and everybody walked away with the same amount of fingers that we started with.
While we walked the beast across the field for the rest of its inspection, Bob Bouchard started to finish off the work on the 2-33 that we intended to fly back to Sterling. While he was doing this, the retired bunch decided to do what retirees do best, lunch. After a few minor detours on our way to the airport - that will teach them to listen to the fat guy in the back seat - Desi got very detailed instructions to the local sandwich shop. Again we did the retiree thing and compared how well the IRAs were doing. Went back to the airport to find John B. pacing around wondering if he was ever going to get back in the air again. After a flurry of positive control checks on everything that moves, Bob and Ken were launched towards Sterling.
While the intrepid airmen were on their way back, Desi and I started back in the Beemer. No more backseat driving for me, I was the navigator this time; that's what Desi claimed after the fact. All I said was rt.62 goes that way, and thought he made the right turn. When, about the time we should be back home, Mt. Monadnock filled the windshield, I knew we had blown it. Got back in time to assist in the tiedown, seems Bob and Ken got back and decided to soar for an hour or so while we toured central Mass. Off to the drug store and then home sometime after sunset.
What's all this about Doctors and drug stores you ask. Had a small cut that got infected, and the Doc prescribed an antibiotic. Read up on all the side effects this might cause, no mention of not operating any heavy machinery, or that it would put you to sleep. So I hooked up the trailer for an early get away and planned on flying on Saturday. There was one slight side effect that I had overlooked however, so here I am opening weekend, ship all hooked up, and I am unable to leave the room with the porcelain furniture. I do believe that sadistic SOB of a Doctor did this on purpose, overdosed the hell out of me with the antibiotic from hell. I know where all those little bacteria went, just wished they did not have to leave so explosively.
All was not wasted as Saturdays mail brought an autographed copy of "Winning on the Wind" from George Moffat. So at least I had reading material.
John Farrington