AROUND THE PATCH By Matt Ferrari The run-up, a last chance check of aircraft systems before you take the runway and commit to flight. Maybe that’s a good way to look at life too? Before you begin, one last check for readiness, condition, intentions, for commitment. Throttle up to 2000 RPM’s, oil pressure is good, oil temp in the low green, but in the green and rising, vacuum pressure good, electrical system good, fuel tanks full. Now the magneto check, right mag good, back to both, left mag a little rough, switch back to both, a little more power and then lean out the fuel mixture, the engine sputters, just this side of dying, the airplane shakes and shutters a bit, mixture control back in, richening up the fuel air mixture, the engine runs smooth. RPM’s back to 2000 and check the mags again, both smooth now, probably just some carbon deposits built up on one of the spark plugs or maybe an exhaust valve? These old engines were born to burn 80 octane avgas but today all that is available is 100LL, the “LL” meaning low lead. Still more lead content than the 80 Octane fuel contained and sometimes the lead deposits itself on a spark plug, a valve seat or in the valve guides causing them to stick a little bit. Leaning the mixture, meaning backing off on the fuel flow into the fuel/air mixture, allows for a hotter burn in the combustion chambers of the engine’s cylinders. A hotter burn often cleans out the crud and puts the engine back to smooth running. That’s the case today. A quick check of the carburetor heat and all is good. An operational check of the flight controls and I complete the remaining items on the before takeoff checklist. Satisfied, I think she’ll fly one more time. Another check of the flight path down final approach and I see no planes. I announce my intentions on the radio and take the runway. The runway, a stretch of asphalt, concrete, turf or dirt put there for the sole purpose of allowing airplanes to depart from and return to earth. The runway, run-way, or maybe run away? Maybe it’s there for pilots, people like me, to run away? Run away from what? That’s for your own choosing. For me, maybe it’s to depart the earth and return to the sky, even if for just a while? An opportunity to go to the place where I’m alone but never lonely, awe struck but never confused, amazed
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but never overwhelmed, happy, at home. The runway, it’s a wonderful thing. My home town airport is “uncontrolled”, meaning that there is not a control tower here. Often, when people hear “uncontrolled airport” they think “Oh my God, no control tower, no control”! They think chaos, planes coming and going with no particular order, unsafe, planes sure to fall out of the sky, a threat to the innocent public. The fact is, however, we have very orderly methods of coming and going, of operating on the ground and in the air. Uncontrolled it is not. But it makes for good press. Taxied into position now, another look at the windsock shows a quartering headwind with a slight crosswind from the right. I move the throttle lever forward, smoothly, all the way to full power. We begin to roll. The takeoff roll, the beginning of flight, the leaving behind the securities of the ground, where we accelerate to flying speed, where we transition from a creature of the ground to a being of the sky, where we begin to live again. A quick glance across the engine instruments to make sure everything is cooperating. Approaching flying speed, I feel the plane getting light on her wheels. An instant later, we fly! The airplane is alive now, and so am I. In my log book is recorded 12,000 and some hours of doing this, flying, and I still feel the magic at liftoff, small planes or big ones, it’s still there! Climbing now, a few bumps as we clear the tree line. Air moves over the ground much like water flows down a stream. If there’s an obstacle, like the trees, the air will move up, over and around as the breeze blows past, riding the contours of the earth. Like water over rocks in a stream, only I can’t see it. I have to visualize it, create mental images, understandings of what I can’t see, know it’s there and believe it. I look over my left shoulder, out at the wing, I can’t see the air flowing around it, I can only read about the theory of what is actually holding me up in the sky right now, but I trust it and believe in it, even if I can’t see it. Climbing still, the ground falling away, the horizon stretches in all directions and moves farther away with altitude. I’m flying! With altitude, my perspective changes. More and more fills my field of view. Maybe
