Iron Modeler

Category: Chasing sparks

  • Some Insight

    Howdy, all!

    Last time out, I made a comment that my hobby of scale modeling led to my career/vocation paths.  To refresh your memory, they were (in no particular order) history, aviation, research, writing, and hanging out at the hobby shop.

    This is one of those “about me for myself” pieces I talked about last time, but I thought this one might be fun to share.

    When my father brought home a Revell 1/32 scale Wildcat model kit, I don’t think he realized the vast worlds he was opening up to me.

    I was an early reader.  I’ve been told that I could read before I was four years old.  As I got older, I loved to read.  I would read pretty much anything I could get my hands on.  When we started building that model, I was only concerned about the three-dimensional puzzle in the box.  However, one night, as I waited for Dad to come to the table for our modeling session, I started to read the side of the box.  Then I noticed that the instruction sheet contained more than just how to get the parts together—the front page had a capsule history of the airplane and its exploits during WWII.  Before I read it, I just thought the little pudgy airplane looked neat, but as I read about how it was the Navy’s front line fighter airplane in the early days of the war, and how it was flying against faster, more maneuverable enemy airplanes, my interest grew.  I looked for books in the school library about the war, and learned about the Battles of the Coral Sea, the Battle of Midway, Wake Island, and the Solomons.  Each new discovery led me to learn more.  I’d find one nugget that would lead me to three more.

    That’s research, kids.  I do a lot of research to this day—most of what I do uses what are known as secondary sources, so it is technically “Research Lite” (Less Filling!  Tastes Great!), although I did start to use primary sources when we were up to our necks in the Fire Support Base RIPCORD project a year or so ago.  What’s the difference?  Primary sources are from either official accounts from the units involved or from the guys who were actually there and participated.  SITREPS, diaries, After Action reports, first hand witnesses—those are all primary source materials.  Secondary sources are what you find on the shelves at the local Barnes and Noble—books written about events where the author may (or may not) have used primary sources.  (As “true” researchers know, you take all secondary sources with a grain of salt…)

    As I researched things, I’d write about them.  I wrote a lot of book reports, sure, but sometimes I’d write just for myself.  They were more a collection of notes, but every now and then I would collect those thoughts into an article for the local modeling club newsletter.  I laid off writing for a while, but with the COVID shutdown I’ve managed to get a little of my groove back, and have once again been pumping out modeling articles, and they’re now being published in the national organizations’ magazines.

    The more models I built, the more I wanted to build.  Unfortunately, like most things, it takes money to acquire and build models.  By the time I hit high school, I was at the age where I started to take my modeling more seriously.  A long-time modeler and author, Roscoe Creed, made mention of it when he “wondered where all the cracks went?” in one of his books  a book that I still refer to from time to time.

    I wanted to get rid of the seam lines.  I wanted to make it look like the pictures of the actual item.  As I learned of such things, I began using putty, decal setting solutions, these new-fangled super glues, and an airbrush.  Like the kits themselves, that stuff isn’t free.  More experience led me to discover the then-emerging world of the aftermarket—decals were the first thing I think most modelers encounter from the aftermarket, but later things like photoetched brass details, white metal and resin parts, vac-form kits, and other additions and conversions also became part of my repertoire.

    Of course, by doing so, I was honing my skills as a craftsman and, dare I say, artist.  I was learning how to solve problems.  I developed a sense of spatial relationships–how stuff goes together.  It goes without saying that I developed a good eye for small details.

    After I graduated from college, I started to visit the local shop more frequently.  I became a regular, and eventually I was asked if I wanted to do some fill-in work.  Before long, I was a regular part-time employee, and would remain so until I moved out of state.  During a layoff period about 10 years later, I got a job at the local hobby shop here.  I was only there for a few months, but when my next full-time employer picked up and left, I went to work for the shop again.

    What helped me get the job, I think, is that I was familiar with all the stuff one needed to complete a model.  I was also interested in going the extra mile when I built my models, and I knew what that took, so I could guide others when they came looking for hobby stuff.  Many see retail sales as a drag, but I saw it as a chance to get paid while playing with toys.  Hence, my days hanging out at the hobby shop…

    Now, how about the aviation thing…

    I have no idea what first got me hooked on airplanes.  Perhaps it was the Wildcat model.  More likely, it was reading of the exploits of the men who flew them in the war; the Wildcat model was merely the first step on the path.  For many years, I wasn’t interested in a book if (A) it was not related to aviation; or (B) the word “fiction” was not preceded by “non”.  I have to believe it was that—the more I read, the more I learned, and the more I wanted to be part of that world.  Interestingly, I never really wanted to be a pilot.  I can’t say why, I just never saw that as where I would be.  More on that shortly…

    In my day, teachers were almost always matronly ladies in their late 30’s to early 50’s.  However, my fourth grade teacher was an exception.  I guess she was in her late 20’s–I seem to recall she had only recently received her teaching credentials at that time.  She was a pretty, petite, energetic lady, blonde with a deep tan, and was always smiling.  Her name was Miss Gerstle (Nancy, if I recall correctly).  Her last name rhymes with the chocolate company’s name, and we often called her “Miss Nestlé-Gerstle”.  From the little bit I managed to gather on her by listening to her, she lived with a few roommates and they all worked on the weekends as flight attendants (we called them “stewardesses” back in the day) for Mackey Airlines, a small scheduled airline that flew from Ft. Lauderdale to the Bahamas, in order to earn a little extra money.

    I don’t know if she lined it up, but one day we took a field trip to Ft. Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport and got to walk around some airplanes.  I seem to recall a Mackey airplane, maybe a DC-6, and it sat next to an Eastern Airlines (IIRC) 727 which was powered up, and we could walk through it.  We spent a few hours walking around the airplanes, asking questions, and talking with the pilots and “stews”.  I loved it.

    An interesting tidbit—when I graduated from college and landed my first “adult” job, I worked from that same ramp, by that time occupied by the National Jets/Florida Aircraft Leasing facilities.  Small world, right?

    I don’t know what happened to Miss Gerstle, but wherever she is, I hope she is still smiling brightly and doing well.  She was a breath of fresh air for me…

    Later, while going through the steps to earn my Aviation merit badge, somehow I got what we call today a “Discovery Flight”.  We went to the airport bright and early, got the whole briefing, got to do the preflight on the airplane, then we went out for a flight over Ft. Lauderdale.  Sitting in the pilot seat, I couldn’t see over the glareshield! I enjoyed the flight, but decided that while it looked like fun, I wasn’t interested in being a pilot.

    As I started high school, I was shunted into what we would call a STEM program—back in those days, it didn’t have a name, but it put me on a track that emphasized math and science.  We only had to take two science and two math classes over four years, but I had four of each.  Somewhere along the line, it was intimated that I should become an aeronautical engineer, but as I related a long time ago, that didn’t work out so well.  But I never abandoned my interest, and eventually went back to school and earned two degrees from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University that said I had what it took to be a genuine wire stringer, smoke wrangler, electron herder, and spark chaser—I became an avionics technician.

    For most of my 30+ years chasing sparks, I worked in the world of corporate aviation—Learjets were my bread and butter, along with Hawkers and Citations.  From time to time, I also worked on General Aviation craft—the little Cessna and Piper “puddle jumpers” that you see at your local airport—and business class turboprops like the Beechcraft King Air and Cessna Conquest families.

    It was a demanding career, to be sure.  I worked in 100+ degree heat and 20 degree cold.  I worked in the sun, the rain, and sometimes even snow.  Many times, we worked from “can” to “can’t”—we did what we needed to do to keep ‘em flying.  It was hot, dirty, demanding work at times—especially at my last stop, where I was also the airframe electrician.  If something provided electrical power or had a wire or air data line leading to it, it was in my wheelhouse.

    I was always acutely aware that if I failed in my job, people could be injured or killed in a most loud and grotesque manner.  I accepted the challenge.  Not everybody is cut out for such a critical job, and as I began to supervise others, that would be my first question to them.  If they were cavalier or flip, I wouldn’t hire them.  If you wanted to work with me, you had to not only be aware of the consequences of your actions, you had to accept that any little deviation, a nanosecond of inattention, and you could possibly kill someone…

    Incidentally, I don’t really like to fly.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that 95% of the flying I have done in my lifetime has been done because I *had* to in the line of duty.  Flying for me was almost a mandatory thing, and much like running on a treadmill—we made a lot of noise and expended a lot of effort to basically go nowhere–it quickly became work.

    For most folks, flying is a way to get from what you know to an unexplored exotic location on the other side of the globe, some sort of personal adventure, and flying is merely a gateway to that adventure.  It is quite different when you know how the sausage is made and have to do it every day.

    When the folks I was working for picked up stakes and left in 2016, I stayed put.  I decided that my days of crawling around on hard hangar floors or cramming myself into ever smaller spaces were behind me.  Since I had done a lot of the documentation that aircraft modifications required, I decided to use my writing skills and my avionics knowledge to start down the path to being a Technical Writer.  My mother, who taught Latin, always said that I had technical hands and a liberal arts brain, and this seemed to be the best of both worlds.

    And that’s how scale modeling made me who I am today.  A gift from my father awakened an interest in history, and also fed my reading and research habit.  What I learned through my reading led to an interest in aviation, helped along by a teacher and a merit badge.  The technical aspects of the hobby sharpened my problem solving skills, helped me develop good hand-eye coordination and spurred me to develop a keen eye for small details and a sense of craftsmanship and artistry.  The marriage of all this led to where I am right now.

    And it started with a model airplane.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and look after each other.  As always, I Bid you Peace.

  • 1984

    Greetings!

    Now, before you get all excited and start running about, I'm not referring to George Orwell's vision.  Rather, I'm looking back 30 years and remembering some of the things that made 1984 a sort of comeback year for me…

    For starters, I found myself unemployed and not in school for the first time in my life on New Year's Day in 1984.  I had taken my leave from the Harvard of the Sky–engineering physics and I didn't get along, especially when physics had backup on the beat-down in the form of Calculus 3.  Between those two courses, I had a dismal GPA for the Fall 1983 semester and decided that engineering as a career for me wasn't in the cards.  I went down to the AFROTC Detachment (I had an AFROTC Scholarship at the time) and spoke a bit with my advisor.  He and I talked for about an hour, and both came to the conclusion that all the summer terms in the world weren't going to suddenly make me a mathematical genius.  My math skills were pretty good, but not good enough.  So, I didn't register for spring semester and came home.

    Funny how things can happen–I went looking for a job on 2 January 1984 and was hired almost immediately as a parts driver for a local HVAC parts house.  After a week or so of that, one of their systems engineers found out that I wasn't just doing this because I didn't know any better, and I would sometimes be called in to watch how home and industrial HVAC systems are engineered–so many square feet of space called for so many tons of capacity, so many BTUs were required to heat X amount of space, etc.  It was all pretty neat stuff, and I appreciated all they were doing for me.  Between parts runs, I learned quite a bit–and was tempted to pursue a career in that.  But aviation, once it wiggles down into your blood, tends to have a strong pull…

    I worked there all summer.  One day I got a phone call from one of my advisors at Embry-Riddle, wanting to know what I was doing and what my plans were.  At the time, I was still trying to just chill out a bit and leave the stress and, well, disappointment of engineering behind me (and earn some coin, but that should be obvious).  I let them know what I was up to, and that I had several things banging around in my head, and that I'd let them know when the time came.  That time came in June–I took a Friday off work and drove back to Daytona Beach.  I met with some folks, and found out how easy it would be for me to come back–I never formally withdrew from the school, so I was still carried on their rolls.  I first visited my AFROTC friends.  We spent a few hours speaking with some of the other Department Chairmen, and after speaking with the man heading up the Avionics program, my mind was made up.  I would return in August.

    With my future now decided, I went back to work.  I don't say this to be self-congratulatory, but I was the hardest working parts driver/stock man/all around helper that location had.  I know this because the higher-ups told me so.  They were especially let down when I gave them my notice, but when I told them that my two choices were to learn–unofficially–from them, or go back to school and learn aviation electronics, I think it got them to understand.  I was told that if I needed summer work, they would be there.  So, I ended my employment with them in mid-August.

    Remember that 1984 was an Olympic Games year, too–back when Winter and Summer games were held in the same year, no less.  The Winter games were held in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia.  I paid little attention to them, because work and the time difference made keeping track of the events a bit difficult.  What saddens me know is to see what has become of the venues built for the Games–most of them are crumbling, the result of the unrest, fighting, and other issues between the ethnic factions that finally led to the break-up of Yugoslavia into its constituent Republics.  Sad…

    The Summer games, on the other hand, were different–they were held in Los Angeles in 1984.  The overshadowing news was that the Soviet Union, acting in response to the West's boycott of the 1908 Games, had decided to sit 1984 out.  They, along with the majority of Eastern Bloc countries, sat at home while the Games went on.  The reason I remember it so well was than coverage of most events came on right as I was getting back to the house after work, so I could pay attention to all of them.  It was the last Olympic Summer games that I really paid close attention to.  Since then, various reasons have kept me from watching…

    On the modeling front, I actually started to keep a log of kits I completed.  The first for 1984 was the ESCI 1/48 scale Fieseler Storch.  It was an easy build until I got to the part about sticking the wings to the greenhouse.  I used 5-minute epoxy, and got a fairly decent result–I amazed myself that I didn't wind up with epoxy all over everything! 

    I next turned my attention to a Tamiya 1/48 Brewster Buffalo.  It was probably the quickest "serious" model I had built to that point–everything just clicked together.  I was tempted by the early Navy scheme, but I settled on the Dutch scheme, because my metal finish techniques were sorely lacking and I didn't want to ruin the model.  My impressions of Tamiya airplane kits would be reinforced soon…

    Next on the hit parade was the Nichimo 1/48 scale Ki-43 Oscar.  If you read opinions on this kit, they're all almost universally positive.  And for good reason–the kit packs a lot of detail into a small airplane, the fit is superlative, and this all in a kit dating from the late 1970's.  I tried some weathering techniques on this one–I used a silver Tamiya paint marker to prime seams back then, and I would paint the seams and rub the excess paint off with a paper towel.  I reconed that if I added blotches of silver here and there, I could "chip" the Polly S paints I was using for the camouflage.  It worked out fairly well, I think, and I kept trying to expand my horizons from that model on to the next, and the next…

    This was also the summer when I attempted to build Monogram's 1/48 scale F-84F.  For a reason or reasons lost to history, I cannot recall why I never finished the model.  All I have from that model is the dolly and a few bits and pieces.  After that, I wound up building Monogram's 1/48 scale F-100D in Arkansas ANG colors.  I did that because, as I said before, my metal finishes at the time looked like dog poop…

    Last for the summer, I decided to refinish a Monogram 1/48 scale B-17G that I had built in the late 1970's, maybe 1979.  I had airbrushed it, but it was one of my first airbrushed models and looked the part.  There were visible seams and some other issues with the model, so I took it down from the shelf and started working on the bad areas.  Within a week, it was ready for paint again.  I had used a Microscale sheet to finish the F-100 and was suitably impressed–first time using them, you know.  So, I went in search of a sheet for the B-17.  I found one I liked (unit and aircraft are again lost to history–I didn't log how they were finished, just that I finished them) and set to work.  I used a combination of Polly S and Tamiya acrylics for the finish, and this one was the best, to that point, airbrushed finish I had ever laid down.  The model went back on the shelf, an old girl in a new dress.

    (That Tamiya Buffalo would also get a re-work in the early 1990's–which is how it still resides, hidden away in a box upstairs…)

    I returned to good old Humpty Diddle in August.  I had to register for classes.  I had remembered to change my major and catalog at the Registrar's office when I was there in June, so half my battle had been won.  Then I get to the registration lines.  I think it is a universal college policy that beginning of the semester registration is meant to be as huge a pain in the ass as possible to all involved.  See, during my engineering days, I had to re-take a few courses.  As far as the Aeronautical Studies/Aeronautics courses were concerned, I was through with all of my math classes by virture of my Calculus I and Calculus II courses.  During those engineering semesters, I had managed to complete all but maybe one or two Humanities/History courses, too.  I was only looking to register for the required Physics and first semester Aero Studies courses.  I couldn't get into any of the Electronics courses since all the sections were filled, so I settled for what I could get.  After I got through that, I had to go play housing lottery.  After about two hours of back-and-forth, I managed to get into Residence Hall 2, aka Dorm 2, aka "The Embry-Riddle Holiday Inn".  I had lived here through my engineering days, so I know what to expect.  I met the roommates and suitemates (two rooms to a suite, three people to a room), all of whom were Aero Science guys (they were all working towards pilot certificates)–except one.  He was in engineering.  He was a quiet kid, and engineering wasn't any kinder to him than it was me.  I kinda felt sorry for the kid…after all, I'm now the older, wiser me…

    Classes were literally a breeze.  By the end of that semester, I would have all my prerequisite courses behind me and the next three and a half years would be solid electronics and avionics courses, along with the Aero Studies courses.  See, there was no single avionics major, you took a major and added avionics.  You could take an Aviation Maintenance major and avionics (you wound up with an Airfram and Powerplant certificate and the avionics degree) or Aeronautical Studies with avionics, which is how I went.  Basically, you took all the ground school courses for flight, but no flight courses.  So, I learned basic aerial navigation and meteorology to go along with my electron theory.  Over the years, the school changed how they treated avionics until finally phasing it out a few years ago in favor of an Electronic Engineering degree program…

    More modeling?  You bet–I had spare time, so I decided to build a Tamiya 1/48 A6M2.  This was another fall together kit, it was done in a week.  Yep, a week.  Needing something else to occupy my time, and figuring that the ESCI Storch was a cool kit, so I decided to build ESCI's 1/48 scale Hs-123.  Now that one was a challenge–first serious biplane, first masked camouflage scheme with Polly S, and the kit was rife with minor warpage–typical of ESCI's kits of that era.  Well, I managed to beat it into submission, and painted it up as a Spanish Civil War machine.  I may still have it in a box here somewhere, too, and I was sure to pick up the AMTech "enhanced" reissue of the kit a few years ago.  After all, who else is likely to do an Hs-123 in 1/48 scale?

    The best part of the year?  Going back to school.  I never had any intention of *not* going back to school–my father wouldn't abide it.  He was always pushing for education-I guess it stems from the fact that he had a GED when he started working, and worked hard in correspondence classes to earn a degree.  Dad was a self made man, and he did so through hard work and trying to better himself.  I was thinking about these "good old days", and once again realized what my parents did to make sure my brother and I were ready to face the cold, cruel world–the sacrifices they made to put us both through post-secondary education, the hard work they put in to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and lights on in the house.  So, by going back to school–even though I wasn't overtly pushed–I was doing as they wanted. 

    On reflection, maybe I should have worked for a year after high school, then gone to college.  Maybe I should have examined engineering closer and realized that it was a bit beyond my abilities.  You can reach for the brass ring, and if you grab it on the first try, great.  I seem to reach for the ring, get a light grip on it, and then lose that slight grasp.  Rather than giving up, I'll take a breather and try again.  I usually grab that sucker for all I'm worth on the second go around, and once I have it in my grasp I never let go–I seem to cherish it more when I do that.  It has worked for me my entire life…

    Oh, yeah.  The Apple Macintosh also goes on sale in 1984, Constatin Chernenko succeeds Yuri Andropov as General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Pierre Trudeau steps down as the Canadian Prime Minister, and Marvin Gaye's father shoots and kills the singer. 

    Musically, Van Halen released their "1984" album, giving us "Panama", "Hot For Teacher", "I'll Wait", and "Jump".  Duran Duran were touring, suppoting "Seven and the Ragged Tiger", which gave us "The Reflex", "Union of the Snake", and "New Moon on Monday".  Meanwhile, Prince and the Revolution topped the Billboard Top 100 with "When Doves Cry".  What was #100?  "Yah Mo Be There", by James Ingram and Michael McDonald…

    (I can't poke too much fun–my beloved Jethro Tull released "Under Wraps".  Not one of their best albums ever.  By far.  Even Tull's then-bassist Dave Pegg said the songs cut from 1983's "Broadsword and the Beast" would have made a better album.  Trivia time–it was the only Tull album with no live drummer–drum machines were used instead.  Doane Perry would be hired shortly after this album and was their full-time drummer until 2011.  He still occasionally tours with them.)

    The big news items in the United States for 1984, though, were generated by President Ronald Reagan.  In August, during a sound check for a radio broadcast, he says "My fellow Americans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever.  We begin bombing in five minutes".  He alos is re-elected (with George H. W. Bush as his Vice President) in a landslide victory in November, beating Democrats Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro, carrying 49 states and 59% of the popular vote.

     Oh, and as an aside:  When you get an ROTC scholarship, you are basically sworn in as enlisted personnel.  Because I vacated my AFROTC scholarship, a Review Board convened.  It was decided that I wasn't vacating the scholarship for any reason other than it would be a waste of money to have me keep banging my head against a wall as an egineering student.  For my troubles, I received a package from the United States Air Force sometime in April.  Now, some fellow scholarship recipients were receiving orders to attend basic training at Lackland AFB, Texas.  I was slightly concerend until I opened the envelope.  I was granted an Honorable Discharge from the United States Air Force.  As an Airman Basic.  No orders.  One of my roommates at the time wasn't as lucky–his orders appeared a week after he got home in December, 1983.  He showed the Air Force, though–he went down and joined the Army before the Air Force caught up with him.  Many who knew this guy swore he joined the army only so he could get a good, up close look at an M1 Abrams tank so he could build a superdetailed model of one…

    I hope this finds all of you in good health.  Thanks for reading, and be good to one another.  I bid you Peace.

     

     

  • A Catalina Story

    Any fan of World War Two warbirds knows the Consolidated PBY Catalina/Canso–the ungainly-looking, high wing flying boat/amphibian patrol aircraft.  Well, I made the acquaintance of a few of these aircraft in my career, the first of which was a Boeing-Canada built PBY-5A Canso that the company I worked for acquired back in 1989 or 1990.  She wasn’t much to look at–after the war, she had been modified to what was known as 28-5ACF and was to have been used as a freight hauler or firebomber.  During that change, she had her waist gun blisters replaced with cargo doors, and she had the later “clipper” nose fitted that eliminated the gun turret and window–these modifications removed a lot of the character that made a PBY a PBY.  But I got to do a little avionics work on her, and other than reminding yourself that there are lots of places to bang your shins or whack your head in this old girl (and there are two kinds of people who work around flying boats–those that have knocked their head or shins on something, and those who will!), it was more or less a joy.  Yes, there was oil all around, too–any radial-engined airplane will have a film of oil covering most of the airplane after too long, and this PBY was no exception.

    Doing some research, it seems that my first PBY was a bit of a celebrity.  She was born as Construction Number 22022 and went to the Royal Canadian Air Force as RCAF9793 sometime in 1943.  After the war, she kicked around a bit–she carried, at one time or another, the following registrations: YV-P-APE, OB-LDM-349, HK-996X, HP-289, HR-236, N6108, and TG-BIV.  I knew her as November Five Four Zero Four Juliet.

    One of her claims-to-fame?  She was used by Southern Air Transport for a while, and while under their employ she served as a communications relay aircraft during the ill-fated Bay of Pigs invasion.  To top that, she was also supposedly used in the Pearl Harbor attack movie “Tora Tora Tora!”.  To put the cherry on top of her career, she was used for a time by oceanographer Jacques Cousteau…

    (Do a Google search on “N5404J” and you will get dozens of hits.  Really.  I could post the information here, but I’ve been working one of those weeks of half-days–seven days, twelve hour shifts.  I’m feeling a bit lazy this Sunday…)

    Zero-Four Juliet  stayed with us for a year or so.  I’m not sure what we did to the airplane up until 1990, but there came a time where the maintenance guys went to work doing some sheet metal work.  They were adding seat rails and a passenger floor to the airplane.  They were also re-routing all of the overhead fluid lines–we were told that she was to be ferried to New Zealand, where she would haul passengers, and you can’t have volatile liquids (read: 100 Low Lead Aviation Gasoline, aka 100LL AVGAS).  As it turned out, she was actually going to be brought to New Zealand to be used as a flying museum.  Unfortunately, it would not come to pass–at least, not for Zero Four Juliet.  The airplane left our facility sometime in late 1993.  I heard little about her until a friend told me that she crashed in January 1994 while en route from Hilo, HI to Papeete in French Polynesia.  She sank in the Pacific.  Fortunately, the occupants were rescued.

    A post from The Warbird Information Exchange, which came from The Catalina Group of New Zealand’s website:

    N5404J, serial number 22022, was built by Boeing of Canada and had the RCAF Serial 9793. It was originally a Canso A (PBY-5A) but at the war’s end was modified in Costa Rica to 28-5ACF status. Its blister windows and nose turret were removed, the former replaced with flush hatches; the latter with a “clipper” nose. Registrations have included: YV-P-APE, OB-LDM-349, HK-996X, HP-289, HR-236, N6108, TG-BIV, N5404J.

    It took part in the ill-fated “Bay of Pigs” operation in Cuba during which, while circling the invasion area and operating with the code name “Swan Island”, its mission was to act as a communications relay aircraft. It was also used in making of the film Tora, Tora, Tora, flying in pre-war US Navy colours both as 24-P-4 and 24-P9 representing PBYs from VP-24 based on Ford Island, Pearl Harbour. It was hired at one time by renown marine biologist Jacques Cousteau on one of his ventures (Jacques Cousteau’s son, Philippe was killed in PBY-6A Catalina N101CS –”Flying Calypso” in a water landing accident).           

    N5404J’s last registered owner was The Catalina Company (NZ) Ltd under which the registration ZK-PBY was reserved but never taken up as the aircraft forced landed and sank in mid-Pacific early on January 14, 1994 during a ferry flight to New Zealand. For the whole fascinating story order a copy of Catalina Dreaming from this site today!

    My second encounter with a Catalina happened about the same time–it was the airplane now known as N4NC, and maybe I’ll tell you about it (and other hangar stories) some time…for as Zero Four Juliet was a workhorse, Four November Charlie was a flying yacht.

    There was yet another Catalina I knew, too–N7179Y, a PBY-6A–and (as of September of 2009) she resides in the restoration facility of the Lake Superior Squadron of the Commemorative Air Force.  She was flipped on her back during a storm some 12 years ago.  It is a shame, too–Seven Niner Yankee lived through Hurricane Andrew in 1991 with nary a scratch.  It appears as if they will combine the best parts from Seven Niner Yankee and another PBY-6A.  I haven’t been able to dig up anything more current…

    Thanks for reading, and, as always, I bid you Peace.

  • Ain’t that worth at least one “Hot-Diggety Damn?”

    The airplane we've been dealing with at work made the test flight this afternoon.  You know you've done a good job when a factory test pilot gets off the airplane and tells you, "That airplane flies really nice."  Remember, this is a production test pilot who probably last flew this particular airplane when it was originally built and certified about 12 years ago…

    The back story is this–Learjets require a major inspection every 12 years and another one every 12,000 flight hours.  This is in addition to other phase/time inspections on a more frequent basis (6 months, 12 months, etc.).  The 12-year, though, is a biggie.  The interior gets removed, the antennas get removed, even the instruments and instrument panel gets pulled out, all so the airframe can be X-Rayed and tested in other ways (eddy current, ultrasound, etc.).  Then, once you know what you have, you effect repairs.  During this inspection, you'll find cracked windows, cracked structural members, corrosion, and all sorts of other issues that need to be dealt with.  There are other time items to do–certify the air data computers so the altitude and airspeed readouts are correct, calibrate the fuel quantity system, check the Emergency Locater Transmitter (ELT), service the emergency batteries–you get the picture.  You also remove the leading edge panels on the wing.  Now, a Learjet is a high-performance aircraft, and how the air flows over the wing is very important.  Removing even two adjacent screws from the leading edge panel, if you read the maintenance manual, requires a test flight along the lines of what we had done today, since you can change the flight–and stall–characteristics of the airplane drastically.  Even having too much sealant on the panel joints has been known to adversely affect the stall of a Learjet, so it is important that the work gets done properly.  That being said, you can only do so much on the ground to certify the systems.  The only way to know how the airplane will perform in flight is to fly it.

    What's a stall?  Well, in aerodynamic terms, it is when the airflow over the wing gets so disturbed that the wing stops generating lift–in other words, the wing is no longer flying.  You enter a stall by pitching the nose up, pulling the power back, the airplane may (or may not–depends on the airframe) start to buffet and growl at you, the stick shaker (a little motor and eccentric weight that makes the control yoke vibrate) activates, lights flash, and…then it seems like the sky has literally dropped you.  The nose drops, and if all goes well, the airplane maintains a level flight attitude.  As the airplane regains forward motion, the wing starts flying again.  Easy, right?  Well, some airplanes behave as they should.  But sometimes, you'll have one that snaps a wing down into a roll after the stall.  Or enters a spin.  Bad news.  That means that something needs to be re-adjusted, re-worked, or re-rigged, and the airplane needs to be flown again.  Fortunately, today's flight went extremely well, and we're about ready to deliver it to the owner so he can put it back into service.

    Not bad for three months' work.     

    On the miniature aviation front, progress is being made on the 1/72 scale FineMolds Ki-100b, and, just as a quickie for comparison, I started a 1/72 Hasegawa Ki-61 to show the differences between the radial-engined Ki-100 and the in-line Ki-61.  The two of them should make a nice display–the Ki-61 is being built strictly out of the box (I didn't even add a stick, since you can't see a whole lot once the canopy is stuck in place) with kit decals–more than likely, I'll do MAJ Kobayashi's airplane.

    The StuG IV is progressing, too.  I've finished the Zimmerit and have to squirt some flat black paint under the engine deck so I can button that area up.  The fenders are on, I hope to start putting the gun and fighting compartment together before too long.  For this one, I decided to go OOB (well, OOB plus the Zimmerit) and concentrate my efforts on the finish, since I can rarely get a convincing finish on an armor piece. 

    The other projects should pick up, too.  I'll give you updates and photos as I'm able.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and I bid you Peace.

     

  • A long week just got longer…

    Well, today was to have been the day that a crew test flew the airplane we've had in heavy maintenance since the end of January.  Well, it wasn't to be–during the pre-flight engine runs, a problem developed, a problem we had seen during the inspection and had solved.  Or so we thought.  At any rate, we'll have a few days to sort things out, get everything right, and make the test flight. 

    Aviation goes that way, sometimes.  Two steps forward, three back, sometimes you can't progress.  Problems that seemed easy to solve start rearing their ugly heads.  Problems that were noted on the flight inbound weren't verified, as in we could not duplicate them on the incoming runs and tests.  And, as sure as day fades into night, they pop back up when you least expect them to.  So, you ask, what do you do?  You deal with them.  You go back into troubleshooting mode and you work the problem.  You find the culprit, make the repairs, and re-test the systems until you are satisfied that you have fixed it.

    An interesting comment was made, though.  Lest anyone think that we're six feet tall, bulletproof, all-knowing and all-seeing, I hate to shatter that illusion.  We're humans.  We don't know everything.  But the subject came up about using a factory tech rep to assist.  "At one point in my career", a colleague said, "I didn't like using tech reps.  It was a pride thing.  The longer I worked in aviation, though, the more I saw them as another tool in my arsenal."  I replied to him that I use any and all resources available to me, including tech reps, and I always have since I became aware of their presence.  I'm not proud.  I don't know everything.  If asking a few questions helps me get the airplane fixed an on it's way faster, well, so be it.  Tech reps have an advantage–they hear about these problems multiple times.  They know the systems better than the back of their hand.  Factory reps have the added advantage of being able to consult a database.  They know what we know–an airplane on the ground is costing the owner money.

    Back in the day when airplanes weren't as sophisticated, repairs were easy–they took a deal of mechanical know-how, to be sure, but if you knew how an internal combustion engine worked, you were pretty well set.  When radios got added to the mix, there was a degree of specialized knowledge required.  These days, airplanes are more of a flying computer than a mechanical beast.  Electronics interface with nearly every system onboard, and when something burps, the whole lot senses it and pukes a fault.  Talk about specialized knowledge…there are schools on top of schools for the latest generation of avionics.  We used to have a saying when I was in college:  "Avionics–Making Pilots Obsolete".  Twenty years or so ago, it was sort of a tongue-in-cheek deal, these days it is largely true.  You think that airliner you're flying in is stable because the pilot has an exceptionally steady hand on the wheel?  Nope–an autopilot can fly the airplane from taxi to taxi, including takeoff and landing.  A standing joke with some airplanes is, "Where's the slot for the quarters?" and "Does this thing have Pac-Man?"  You kids out there will have to ask your folks about Pac-Man…

    We'll be back at it tomorrow morning.  We'll have the old girl back in the air before you know it…

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another.  I bid you Peace.