Jay Honeck
Touchdown! Greaser!
In June, one of our best friends took his homebuilt biplane up for a test flight. He had installed a new carburetor on the Chevy V8, and was having some difficulty getting the engine to run smoothly, but he thought he had the problem licked...
Mary and I had spent most of the day with him, enjoying the summer weather and discussing the new flying club we had set up together for our kids. In addition to being a grand champion home builder, he's an A&P and IA, and has worked on all of our airplanes for over ten years. It was just a great day to be at the airport, and -- after bidding him adieu -- we eagerly took to the skies in our then-new (to us) Ercoupe.
Shortly after we departed, our friend took off to the Northwest. Just a couple of hundred feet up, his engine lost power. With a road, houses, and businesses ahead, he opted to turn back to the runway...
He never made it. Too slow, too low, the plane stalled, spun, and hit hard -- thankfully on the airport property. The header tank burst, and immediately turned into a fireball. Since it was a hot day, our friend was wearing a helmet, goggles, shorts and a t-shirt. Doused in flaming gasoline (we had just topped the tanks the night before), he miraculously scrambled out of the wreckage, and rolled in the grass to extinguish the flames.
Other friends witnessed the wreck, and were on the scene in seconds. The first thing he said to them was "Call an ambulance and get me to a hospital, cuz this is gonna hurt like hell real soon." All of his hair was gone, and the skin on his arms and legs -- any area not covered -- was hanging in sheets.
By then we had landed at a nearby airport, and were enjoying a cold pop with some of the local airport bums. My cell phone rang, and it was a mutual friend telling us about the crash. We immediately started heading for the 'Coupe, but stopped short when we were told that our home airport was closed due to the crash, and we wouldn't be able to return anyway.
Amazingly, one of the "bums" we were with turned out to be a transplant surgeon with some great connections. Seeing how distraught we were, he made a few phone calls to the hospital's emergency room, and was able to tell us that our friend was, indeed, still alive. Best of all, he was expected to survive...maybe.
Two hours later, the authorities had cleared the wreckage, and re-opened the airport. We flew back as fast as our Ercoupe could carry us (not too fast!), and after landing immediately drove to the hospital, where we spent a somber evening with friends and family.
Fast forward two months. Our friend has gone through a living hell, with everything from lung to staph infections, multiple skin graft operations, weeks spent on a breathing machine, and half a dozen other "minor" (in the overall scheme of things) crises. In addition to the pain, he has had to learn how to walk, talk, eat, and use the bathroom again.
But finally, thankfully, last Thursday he came home. He's weak as a kitten, and his new skin is so delicate that he can abrade it away by resting his elbows on a table -- but he's walking, talking, and making plans to fly again! He lost two months (they kept him heavily sedated, thankfully) but he remembers every second of the crash.
He attributes his survival to the fact that he built the plane "hell-for-stout", and the wings absorbed most of the impact. In fact, if the plane hadn't burst into flames, he would literally have "walked away" with minor cuts and bruises.
This past weekend a group of us airport bums threw him a "Welcome Home!" party at the airport, and he and his wife attended. He's not 100% yet, but he was walking, talking, eating, drinking, and shooting the breeze -- just like always. He spent a few minutes in his shop, and truly seemed to enjoy himself. We can't begin to express how thankful we were to have our friend and partner back with us...
The next day the local yacht club arranged a boat regatta for him (he's also a boater), and the day after THAT we threw him a "Welcome home!" party at "Movie Night at the Inn" -- our weekly free aviation movie event that he's attended for years. (His wife is joking that she can't keep up with his social calendar now!)
So, in the end, the "impossible turn" worked out. Had he landed straight ahead, he certainly would've hit something -- or someone -- much harder, and the end result probably would have been the same, or worse. Our friend faces long months of rehabilitation ahead, and he may never be able to work as an A&P again -- but he'll certainly return to the water and the sky -- thank goodness!
Mary and I had spent most of the day with him, enjoying the summer weather and discussing the new flying club we had set up together for our kids. In addition to being a grand champion home builder, he's an A&P and IA, and has worked on all of our airplanes for over ten years. It was just a great day to be at the airport, and -- after bidding him adieu -- we eagerly took to the skies in our then-new (to us) Ercoupe.
Shortly after we departed, our friend took off to the Northwest. Just a couple of hundred feet up, his engine lost power. With a road, houses, and businesses ahead, he opted to turn back to the runway...
He never made it. Too slow, too low, the plane stalled, spun, and hit hard -- thankfully on the airport property. The header tank burst, and immediately turned into a fireball. Since it was a hot day, our friend was wearing a helmet, goggles, shorts and a t-shirt. Doused in flaming gasoline (we had just topped the tanks the night before), he miraculously scrambled out of the wreckage, and rolled in the grass to extinguish the flames.
Other friends witnessed the wreck, and were on the scene in seconds. The first thing he said to them was "Call an ambulance and get me to a hospital, cuz this is gonna hurt like hell real soon." All of his hair was gone, and the skin on his arms and legs -- any area not covered -- was hanging in sheets.
By then we had landed at a nearby airport, and were enjoying a cold pop with some of the local airport bums. My cell phone rang, and it was a mutual friend telling us about the crash. We immediately started heading for the 'Coupe, but stopped short when we were told that our home airport was closed due to the crash, and we wouldn't be able to return anyway.
Amazingly, one of the "bums" we were with turned out to be a transplant surgeon with some great connections. Seeing how distraught we were, he made a few phone calls to the hospital's emergency room, and was able to tell us that our friend was, indeed, still alive. Best of all, he was expected to survive...maybe.
Two hours later, the authorities had cleared the wreckage, and re-opened the airport. We flew back as fast as our Ercoupe could carry us (not too fast!), and after landing immediately drove to the hospital, where we spent a somber evening with friends and family.
Fast forward two months. Our friend has gone through a living hell, with everything from lung to staph infections, multiple skin graft operations, weeks spent on a breathing machine, and half a dozen other "minor" (in the overall scheme of things) crises. In addition to the pain, he has had to learn how to walk, talk, eat, and use the bathroom again.
But finally, thankfully, last Thursday he came home. He's weak as a kitten, and his new skin is so delicate that he can abrade it away by resting his elbows on a table -- but he's walking, talking, and making plans to fly again! He lost two months (they kept him heavily sedated, thankfully) but he remembers every second of the crash.
He attributes his survival to the fact that he built the plane "hell-for-stout", and the wings absorbed most of the impact. In fact, if the plane hadn't burst into flames, he would literally have "walked away" with minor cuts and bruises.
This past weekend a group of us airport bums threw him a "Welcome Home!" party at the airport, and he and his wife attended. He's not 100% yet, but he was walking, talking, eating, drinking, and shooting the breeze -- just like always. He spent a few minutes in his shop, and truly seemed to enjoy himself. We can't begin to express how thankful we were to have our friend and partner back with us...
The next day the local yacht club arranged a boat regatta for him (he's also a boater), and the day after THAT we threw him a "Welcome home!" party at "Movie Night at the Inn" -- our weekly free aviation movie event that he's attended for years. (His wife is joking that she can't keep up with his social calendar now!)
So, in the end, the "impossible turn" worked out. Had he landed straight ahead, he certainly would've hit something -- or someone -- much harder, and the end result probably would have been the same, or worse. Our friend faces long months of rehabilitation ahead, and he may never be able to work as an A&P again -- but he'll certainly return to the water and the sky -- thank goodness!
)