The Great Julie Pepper!
"Flying might not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price." -- Amelia Earhart
Consolidated Fleet M7 serial number 81, also known as Navy N2Y-1 or Army Air Corps PT 6. Manufactured in Buffalo, NY in November 1929. Holder of the international outside loop record set by Charles Lindbergh's Fleet M7 serial number 229.
The summer sun bakes the Iowa corn fields from a sky dotted with fleecy white clouds. The air hangs still and heavy with the smells of earth and grass. The weary farmer is distracted from his broken down tractor by a strange sound. What kind of engine is that he hears? Standing, he shades his eyes in order to pick out the tiny object silhouetted against the bright sky. The image grows with the sound until he recognizes it at last. A biplane! Has he ever seen one in the flesh before? Surely he has never seen one circling his pasture before. The silver Fleet M7 lines up with the length of the meadow, lands softly, and rolls to a stop a short distance away. The amazed farmer walks towards the plane as the pilot climbs from the cockpit and jumps to the ground, but he stops short when the aviator removes her flight helmet and lets fall her long red hair...
Such are the
dreams that real-life adventures spring from. Whether playing the computer game 'Red
Baron' or reading the books of Richard Bach, I have often dreamt of myself in the cockpit
of that biplane. I even took flying lessons once, but never got the chance to finish them.
Then one day I happened upon a stack of flyers while standing in line at the supermarket.
The Flying Circus Air Show promised
"open cockpit biplane rides before & after every show."
When I showed the leaflet to my roommate Heather, she surprised me by
saying that she had been there once before. Not only that, but the biplane ride she had
taken included all sorts of aerobatic maneuvers. We decided then and there to set aside a
weekend to make a few dreams come true.
On a warm Sunday morning in mid-June we set out for Bealton,
Virginia. It was a long, pleasant drive through the rich Virginia farmland, as yet
untouched by the summer drought. We were still some miles from the aerodrome when we
spotted the first biplane high overhead. Our excitement rose as we spotted another and
then another. They were just specks in a huge sky, but those specks were turning loops and
spirals!
As we turned up the dirt drive towards the parking lot a blue
biplane roared over our heads and landed on the grass field. There were more planes lined
up in front of the viewing area. With a great deal of anticipation (and a little
trepidation on my part) we headed over to the gift shop to buy our ride tickets.At $65
apiece the budget was stretched to the edge and beyond, but every time a plane engine
roared out from above it was like a calling. Out came the plastic and our names went on
the list.
We watched as other intrepid, would be Aces donned a parachute and
marched off to meet their fate. One by one they took to the skies only to return twenty
minutes later with wobbly legs and big smiles. The clock ticked on as the time for the
Flying Circus Show approached. With only two names above ours on the list they announced
there would be no more rides before showtime. We had the option to return the tickets or
wait until after the air show. My common sense was telling me this was a good offer and
urged me to take them up on it, but I hardly ever listen to myself where dreams are
involved.
During the show (don't interpret my lack of details as a poor reflection on the
show, it was great!) Heather and I decided that we both wanted to fly in the Fleet M7. I'm
sure we were both reminded of Richard Bach's trusty Fleet, about which he has written
much. It meant that we would not be in the sky together, but we were both resolved
to fly the Fleet. We cleared our desires with the powers that be and waited our turn after
the show. Heather was called up first and I watched with growing misgivings as she donned
a parachute (an FAA regulation for anyone flying acrobatics) and disappeared into the
cockpit of the now tiny looking airplane.
I should point out that although I love to ride roller coasters, I
really, really, really hate waiting to get on them. As I watched my roommate disappear
into the clouds I had that same sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. I searched
the sky for the tiny speck of silver that contained my best friend and found it at last
doing impossible things in the air. These maneuvers went on and on and on, one after the
other until I was sure she had been up there for at least an hour. As each death defying
loop ended the silhouette of the plane became larger. When at last it leveled out and
lined up for a landing it was just a few hundred feet above the trees.
I never got to see the look on Heather's face as she climbed from the cockpit, I was too busy being strapped into a parachute of my own. After an all too short course on how to jump free of the plane and pull the rip cord, I was led like a condemned prisoner out onto the field and fitted into the instrument of my demise. Oh yes, I should also mention that the only thing I hate worse than waiting to get on a roller coaster is the slow climb up the first hill. I was in agony as the tiny biplane struggled into the air and fought a seemingly hopeless battle with gravity on it's way to 7,000 feet. I would have asked to be returned to the ground several times, but fate dictated that the radio in my leather helmet wasn't working.
I felt my stomach lift from my body as we crested the climb and at that moment I was transported to another world. I braced my knees firmly against the struts of my stalwart flying machine and watched the world do pirouettes around us. We raced into the clouds only to fall back again as if searching for prey. I was sure it lasted all of twenty seconds and then we were lining up on the field, strange that when we landed my watch had somehow run forward some twenty minutes. They managed to peal me out of the cockpit and when my feet touched the unfamiliar Earth there stood my sister in flight, her ear-to-ear smile reflecting my own.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the hangers, finding treasures such as the 2/3 scale Faulker DR7 that Heather remembers having once been in the air show and a big Travel-Air tucked away in a cozy corner awaiting a reluctant prophet. We planned our return trip and let the dream linger in our minds as a warm solstice sun dipped low into the cloud choked summer sky.
"Flight is romance - not in the sense of sexual attraction, but as an experience that enriches life."
-- Stephen Coonts, 'The Cannibal Queen'
jcarnell-writings@usa.net
Changes last made on: February 25, 2005
Copyright © 1999 by Juliet Carnell