Sure, Ken. You can get a class 3 medical as long as you don't have any
chronic medical problems where you might keel over behind the yoke. The
only sticky wicket for CPers is that you are required to be able to speak
very clearly over the radio (understandable).
-----Original Message-----
From: Barber, Kenneth L. [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
Sent: Wednesday, November 17, 1999 11:09 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: I finally got to that 150
kyle, great,!! the only thing i ever wanted to do was fly. i just never
thought tha the faa would even give me consideration.
-----Original Message-----
From: Kyle E. Cleveland [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
Sent: Wednesday, November 17, 1999 11:04 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: I finally got to that 150
Tony,
I finally got around to flying that Cessna you were interested in, so I
obviously passed my medical. Flight doc tagged me on "no night flight"
because of the monocular vision. I knew it would be a matter of time,
anyway, but it's weird having an IFR ticket that you can only use during the
day. ;>). Not that I fly much anymore, anyway. Since Laura quit teaching I
can't justify spending the $$$$. I get enough hours in to keep current, but
that's about it. I'm going to check into one of those PC-based simulators
that you can use to log time for certification. I guess you just fly and
then download the data to a zip drive--it has all the parameters just like
the black box FDRs on the commercial aircraft.
About that 150...I dunno, man, it doesn't seem like much plane for the
price. It's been 200 hrs SMOH on that little Continental. Cranked fine,
stayed up at 2200 rpm on both mags during runup. Oil seemed a bit gummy,
but no major leaks. Found a mouse's nest in one of the cabin heater
vents--only after I ran cabin heat for a while...fortunately before takeoff!
The smell of the dead beasties cooking would have been enough to make me
squawk 7700 and put the sucker down on the freeway. Got that taken care of,
but you'd have to get a detail shop to run an ozone generator in the cabin
for a bit.
Dad's caught a red-eye up from Florida beucause he wanted to fly it with me
(think he really just wanted to see the grandkids). Said, "Why don't we
buzz your house, since Laura's home? You know, just like 'Flying
Leathernecks'!" Criminy! What a jarhead, eh? The old man's been out of
the Corps since '69, but he still does the Marine Routine. Ha! Anyway, he
did some stalls and MCA stuff and said it felt "mushy" for a 150. I thought
so too. Crank in 20 degrees flaps, cut the go juice and most of those old
Cessnas will just hang there. This one wanted to roll off on the left wing
pretty badly. I tried one at 5000' AGL with no flaps and just about put it
in a flat spin. Dad's yelling at me the whole time, "Where'd you learn to
fly? where'd you learn to fly?" Once I recovered and I got my heart rate
down below 200, I wanted to say, "You, Dad. You taught me, remember?" I'm
glad I kept my mouth shut, because I'm pretty sure he knew he hurt my
feelings. He kept complimenting my crappy flying the rest of the afternoon.
:>) It's a good thing private aircraft don't have cockpit voice recorders,
because if I'd stuck that plane in the ground they'd have heard a lot of
references to God and Jesus, that's for sure! ;>) Dad was laughing at me
later because he said I'd plead with God for a while, then I'd cuss Him. I
don't know why Dad didn't pull me out of that--guess he just wanted to see
if I'd mess my pants! ;>). Thought I'd made him mad because he didn't say
anything for a long time, then he said, "This dog won't hunt. There's
something goofy about this plane." I think you'll be okay as long as you
keep your airspeed up. Just pray that little Connie doesn't quit on you
when you're rotating, because you WILL fall off on that left wing right now.
The paint's done up in standard OSU scarlet & gray (will they let you land
this thing in Ann Arbor?..ha!). Paint's in good shape, tires are thin-ish,
the windows are scratched up pretty bad, so they'll need to be polished out.
It has the same Bendix radio stack that Dad's old Skywagon had--one comm,
one nav, and a transponder. They're not much newer than the plane, so I'd
have them checked out. Everything seemed to work ok, though.
Tony, I would not even consider this aircraft for IFR certification. For
one thing, you'd have as much wrapped up in decent avionics as you would in
the plane itself. For another, it just feels funny. I think it would be
fine for daytime VFR, but I would not want to shoot an ILS approach in that
plane in IMC or even marginal VFR weather. You'll have to judge for
yourself, but Dad and I came to a consensus that it just wouldn't be worth
it. I would consider a good GPS, though. Dad brought his Garmin from his
boat and he'd plugged all the data in beforehand for all his favorite grass
strips around Columbus (like Jim Wilson's, et al). Anyway, instead of doing
touch and goes at the same airport, we'd just fly from strip to strip
without stopping the plane. It would be great for you if you're planning to
do much flying in the UP.
Dad caught another red-eye out for Tampa last night, so we tied down at CMH
instead of OSU. I'll get somebody from work today to take me over to Port
Columbus after work and then I'll fly it back over to Don Scott and have
Laura pick me up there.
Anyway, we flew out of OSU around noon, flew to MRT so Grandpa could buzz
the house and wave the wings at "those grandbabies", headed for Jim's and
then did some cross-countries so Dad could check the NDB and NAV against his
GPS. Had dinner in Marion. About that time, I started getting antsy to get
back to CMH. I told Dad, "Listen, I lost my medical for night flying and I
don't want to lose my whole ticket." He said, "Well, from now on I'll just
be pilot-in-command" (which is what I think he wanted anyway, but was too
gracious to say). He also said that we needed to be out after dark because
there was something he wanted to show me. So we started to toward Columbus
around 1930, cruising at 3500' MSL and the whole eastern sky lit up with the
Leonid showers. Man, it was incredible! It reminded me of the CNN video
the night we bombed Baghdad in '91, except that the lights were headed down
instead of up. Tonight is supposed to be even better--up to 6000/min
between 2100 and 0000. Dad said it reminded him of a firefight they had
north of Hue. That was weird because you know he never talks about that
stuff.
So we get to Columbus approach, and even though Dad is technically PIC, I'm
left seat and he's trying to see how many NBD/VORs he can pick up on his
handheld. I tell Dad that I am really not comfortable landing this thing at
night, in traffic, so he takes the yoke and asks me to get clearance. What
happened next was classic! Went something like this:
Me: "Approach, this is Cessna 150 November-two-three-eight-three-echo,
requesting clearance. I have ATIS zebra"
Approach: "83 echo, squawk 283"
Approach: "Cessna 83 echo, you're third in the box. I'll put you in behind
Southwest 330 for runway 28 left. He's that 737 on your 2 o'clock.
Me: "Ah...roger, approach. I have a visual."
(Dad's ears perk up at the mention of the '37. He looks over at me and sees
the sweat on my forehead and asks, "Did he say he was going to put you
behind that SWA bird? Hell, you can't put a 150 this close in behind an
aircraft that big!")
Approach: "83 echo, can you pick up the airspeed a bit? I've got a Lear 45
on your 6 that needs 140 knots."
Dad to me: (unrepeatable)
Dad to Approach: "Approach, 83 echo. Request terminate clearance or clear
for 28 right. This is a 150, I couldn't get 140 knots with a 60 knot
tailwind!"
Approach: "83 echo. Say again and squawk ident. This is not the same
individual I was speaking with prior. You were not cleared to land."
Dad: "Approach, 83 echo. This is pilot-in-command. You were speaking with
my right seat. If we follow that southwest 37 I'm pretty sure I'm going to
have problems with wake turbulence. If I don't get out of this pattern
right now I'm going to have a learjet enema."
Approach: "83 echo...ah...ok...turn right, heading 120, climb 3000. We'll
see about getting you in the pattern for 28 right."
We landed on 28R and I fully expected the taxiway people to ask us to report
to Flight Services, but nobody said boo. I asked Dad about it later and he
said he always reserves the right to opt out of the assignment. I guess
it's just my "controller as god" mentality. He said that if a controller
puts you in a tough spot and you stick it, it's YOUR arse in the casket, not
his. That's why I don't fly class B airspace. To damn much heavy metal in
the air for me! ;>)
Anyway, I'd be happy to go over and show you the plane if you want to come
down (after the Michigan/OSU game ;>) ). If I were you, though, I'd pass
on this one and just rent until spring.
BTW--Dad and I went pheasant hunting Saturday at the WMA. I got lost in a
sorghum field (of course). I tell you what, I'm getting gimpier by the day.
I could only hunt about a half an hour before the pain got too bad and I had
to stop. I felt bad because Dad had so been looking forward to us getting
out (just like old times, he said). He was so incredibly gracious. I
noticed that he kept glancing at me limping and he said, "Those grandbabies
wore my ass out. How's about we just pack it in?" Now I knew this was a
crock because he'd just done one of those geezer marathons two weeks ago and
Mom was bragging about how well he'd done. Guess he just wanted to help me
save face. How I hate this wretched old body ;>).
The tears really flowed when he left Laura and the kids, and then again when
I left him at the gate. I know he loves Florida, but I still get so damn
mad at him sometimes for moving away.
Well, let me know what you want to do about that airplane. See if you can
get your club plane in the next couple weeks and fly down.
Are you going to Florida for Christmas? We'd like to, but I can't scrape
the jack together for plane fare for everyone--and I'm sure not gonna drive
24 hours down I-75 with every other goober east of the Mississippi.
Take care. Give Cheryl and the girls a big kiss and a hug for me.
I love you and I miss you (even if Mom does like you better).
-Kyle
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