Mid Air Collision

During flight training you’re required to plan and fly a long cross-country adventure. You leave from your home airport and travel in a giant triangle stopping at two other airports at least 100 miles from each other. Back in the 80’s GPS did not exist so I used a combination of navigational aids called a VOR and good old-fashioned dead reckoning. Dead reckoning involves using a map to calculate your route and a slide rule to calculate variables such as time and wind speed. It’s not easy, but that’s the point.

This particular cross-country would be a solo flight. My first stop was uneventful and I even found someone with a stamp to sign my logbook proving I was there. The second leg of my adventure was also uneventful. In fact, it was kind of boring because a large easy-to-see freeway connected the two cities. Following the map and making corrections for the upper level winds were easier because of the freeway.

The last leg of the trip should have also been uneventful. My home airport was within site of two very large towers from a power plant. They could be seen for miles. Once at altitude I would have no problem getting them in my sites making my navigation as easy as following a freeway. But easy flying is also boring flying. Making matters worse is that flying in Southern Minnesota means miles upon miles of fields and small towns.

Back then we never had air traffic flight following. Today, depending on their workload, air traffic controllers will monitor your flight and inform you of traffic nearby. It comes in handy over the busy Northern California skies. But this day I was on my own. Rarely did I ever see any traffic. The skies were usually wide open, but not this day.

I was at 5,500 feet when suddenly a large plane appeared climbing up at me. The sun had reflected off his wings giving him away. I quickly turned to the right and immediately lost track of him. I had been making position reports at airports along the way but did not hear him. It was a very close call. I was a bit shaken but I quickly resumed my course. Just as I reached my previous course it happened again. Did we both make a giant circle only to get in each other’s way, again? Once again I quickly banked to the right. Was it another plane? I had no idea.

I regained my course and altitude when it happened a third time. This time I decided to stay at a higher altitude. I regained my course and in about 5 minutes I flew over a gigantic, very reflective tin-roofed turkey barn. It had been an optical illusion. The sun was at the right angle to send a long reflection straight at me on the horizon.

When I returned I told my instructor that I almost had three mid air collisions. “What kind of planes,” he asked. “Two were Butterballs and one was a Jennie-O,” was my reply. I told him about the turkey barns and I almost got laughed out of the FBO. 

Bad Vibrations

It was going to be a grand day flying. I had just earned my private pilot’s license and was now able to take passengers. My little brother, Joe, had never been flying so this was going to be a big deal. I rented the trusty Cessna 152 that I had taken most of my lessons in and briefed Joe on what was going to happen. We hopped in the plane and planned on flying over the family homestead and the little town of Buffalo. As I rolled out on the uncontrolled rural runway all was well. No traffic in site or reporting in on the radio. We would have the sky to ourselves.

I slowly increased the throttle and we rolled down the runway. We were soon airborne and Joe was amazed. He loved it. Joe was mesmerized by the earth sinking away and stared out the window at everything getting smaller. He was now experiencing a new dimension. Up.

No sooner had we reached 100 feet than a very loud banging and continuous vibration shook the plane. It seemed to be coming from Joe’s side of the plane.  I had already experienced one mayday when an engine quite on me so I was having a hard time believing that it was happening again. Only this time something must have let loose and it was trying to free itself from the plane. Could it be the gear? Did I run into a wayward raccoon on the field? I had no idea.

The only thing I could do was to continue climbing until I could turn back to the runway. I still had engine power and all the control surfaces seemed to be working. A quick scan of my instruments and gauges told me the engine was fine but obviously something had gone seriously wrong. Vibration in the air is not a good thing. The plane was now almost humming. I asked my now terrified brother what he could see out his side of the plane.

He quickly discovered that he had closed his door on the end of the seatbelt. Now the seatbelt end was banging on the side of the plane. I felt a huge sense of relief that my wings weren’t falling off. I asked Joe to open the door and pull the belt back into the plane. He immediately started crying. He was so terrified that apparently it didn’t take much to send him over the edge. He refused to do it because, he told me, if he did, “we would both get sucked out of the plane.” This was the era when sequels to the original Airport were hitting the theaters.

I didn’t have time to explain to Joe that this was not a pressurized aircraft and I was afraid of the belt damaging the side of the plane. So I reached over and opened the door much to Joe’s horror. He gave me the most heartbreaking look, and seemed to be thinking, “Why would you want to kill me?” He instantly saw that he was o.k. and he grabbed the belt and I shut the door. The rest of the flight was uneventful and enjoyable.

I don’t think he ever flew with me again.