Showing posts with label aircraft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aircraft. Show all posts

Friday, March 10, 2017

Intrepid Flyers

Thought for the day:  Endurance is the price tag of accomplishment.


Wouldn't it be cool to fly like a bird? To soar and swoop and make some lazy circles in the sky... it's a dreamy thought, isn't it? But not a new one. Man has always been enthralled with the idea of flight.

Today, we're going to talk about some very unusual flyers... the first from the bird kingdom, and the next from the human ranks. One thing these groups have in common is determination. Determination and endurance. (Okay, two things.)

                                                                 First, the bird.

[source:Henri Weimerskirch, CNRS, France]
It practically takes an act of Congress to get some children out of bed at times, but not so for juvenile frigate birds. No sirree, and it's none of that lazy circles in the sky stuff for them, either. It isn't at all unusual for a young frigate bird to take off from his cozy nest and fly non-stop for the next 185 days straight... covering as much as 34,000 miles.

[source: Aurelian Prudor, CNRS, France]



These amazing birds, with their lovely forked tails and wingspans of up to seven and a half feet, (2.3 meters) fly an average of 255 miles per day... and can do it for months on end.

They accomplish this by making brilliant use of the wind currents, and they can ascend to 2000 feet and then drop back down to sea level with only a single flap of their massive wings.
[wikipedia]


Another interesting fact about these birds is, even though they're classified as seabirds... they can't get in the water. Why? Their feathers aren't waterproof. If they were to dive into the water or even land on its surface, they'd get waterlogged, and wouldn't be able to fly again. So if they choose to eat during their long journeys, they have to swoop down and grab small critters from near the water's surface.  According to scientist Henri Weimerskirch, of France's Center for Scientific Research, (CNRS) who tracked 80 of these birds for two years and learned about their remarkable ability to master air currents, "There is no other bird species like them."  (No wonder this male's chest is all puffed out!)


The human flyers were part of a remarkable group, too, and since it's only a couple days after International Women's Day, it's rather fitting that they were also... women.

[credit: Sovfoto/ UIG- 1944]





Meet the Nightwitches, aviators of Russia's all-female 5880th Night Bomber Regiment. These brave women, ages 17 to 26, some of whom had never even seen an airplane before they joined the regiment, played a vital role in World War II, and struck terror in the hearts of their enemies.






[wikipedia]


These women flew in Polikarpov PO-2s, re-purposed biplanes from the 1920s, which were constructed of wood and canvas, and had been used mainly as crop-dusters prior to the war. These planes were slow, obsolete, and contained no radios or radar, so rudimentary navigation hinged on a stop watch and a map.

[[credit: Quality Time]






So what was so terrifying about these women, and how did they get the nickname Nightwitches? That's the English translation of the name bestowed upon them by German soldiers, who called them Nachtexen. (which, um, obviously means the same thing...) See, what these women did as they conducted their night missions was as they approached their targets, they shut off their engines. Then they'd glide down to drop the bombs, so the only sound accompanying their descent was the whoosh of their planes cutting through the air... which sounded like witches' brooms to the soldiers below.

[credit: The Image Works]


After dropping their bombs, the airplane engines then had to be re-started in mid-air, and if that meant a navigator had to climb out onto the wing to give the prop a spin, sobeit.

Because the planes were only capable of carrying two bombs at a time, each night's mission consisted of multiple flights ... as many as eighteen harrowing sorties in a single night. Weight limitations of these planes didn't just dictate the amount of armament they could carry, either. It also meant no parachutes.

At its largest, this battalion contained forty two-person crews, and in total, these gutsy gals carried out 30,000 missions, and dropped 23,000 bombs. At first, Russian male pilots thought these brave young women were a joke, but they soon learned to respect them for their courage, their ability, and their endurance.

[courtesy the Image Works]

Nadia Popova, who was sometimes referred to as Russia's Amelia Earhart, said, In winter, when you'd look out to see your target better, you got frostbite, our feet froze in our boots, but we carried on flying." 

After one mission, her airplane was riddled with forty-two bullet holes, and she was shot down a couple of other times. Still, she persevered and continued to serve as a Nightwitch commander. She passed away in 2013 at the age of 91, and she and her fellow witches will long be remembered as some of Russia's most intrepid flyers.

Determination is doing what needs to be done even when you don't feel like it. [author unknown]

Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough. [Og Mandino]

Determination gives you the resolve to keep going in spite of the roadblocks that lay before you. [Denis Waitley]

Endurance is the price tag of achievement. [author unknown]

Each of us, in our own way, has the ability to fly. Maybe not across an ocean like a frigate bird, and maybe not in daring night missions in antiquated airplanes... but we can fly; we can succeed. Those birds don't back down when faced with the daunting task of flying for weeks and months on end; they just do it. Those women, many of whom had never even seen an airplane before, didn't say, "We can't do it;" they just did it. Like them, with determination, we, too, can overcome obstacles, and we, too, can fly. We can achieve, and we can make our dreams come true, so never settle for less. Remember, even the grandest oak tree started out as a little acorn that refused to give up. Surely we nuts can do the same.


                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Wanta Bet?

Thought for the day:  Forget the lottery. Bet on yourself instead. [Brian Koslow]

[wikimedia]
I could be wrong, but I betcha when man evolved to the point of communication, one of the first things he did was make a wager with his buddy. They likely squabbled over things like who could throw a spear the farthest, who could catch the biggest fish or hunk of meat for dinner, or who could drag his mate around by the hair the longest before she did a little communicating of her own and bit him. The bets became a little more outlandish after man figured out the skill of fermentation. A competitive nature combined with booze... what could possibly go wrong?
[morguefile]

Here's to alcohol, the rose-colored glasses of life. [F.Scott Fitzgerald]

Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. [Ernest Hemingway]

Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals, such as hydrogen and oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a vital ingredient in beer. [Dave Barry]

[amazon]











Heck, bar bets and tricks are so prevalent, you can find numerous books and videos that'll teach you how to con your friends out of drinks and money perform well enough to win those bets fair and square. Years ago, Smarticus did a lot of traveling for work, and when he returned home, he often showed me tricks he'd learned while raising a few beers with his co-workers. Not that I remember the details, but most of the bets involved things like cigarettes, matches, straws, money, glasses, and bottles. Clever. Silly. Harmless.

Other bar bets have been more consequential, like when Ernest Hemingway bet Howard Hawks he couldn't make a good movie from his worst novel. (He could... and he did. To Have and Have Not)

Or when Bennett Cerf bet a client that he couldn't write a book using fifty or less distinct words. (He could... and he did. That client, Theodore Geisel, used the pen name Dr. Seuss to write Green Eggs and Ham.)

But today, we aren't going to worry about the silly, the clever, or the consequential bar bets. Nope, we're gonna talk about an EPIC bar bet. Nobody could get away with pulling off something like this nowadays, but it's amazing that anyone ever pulled it off at all.



The someone who pulled it off was named Thomas Fitzpatrick, AKA Tommy Fitz, who is the gentleman on the left in this picture. He was a Marine during the Korean War, but this intrepid hard-drinking pilot made his infamous bar bet after the war.




[morguefile]





It happened in the wee hours of September 30, 1956, when this 26-year old was drinking with his buddies at a bar in Manhattan.

Fitzpatrick claimed he could fly from New Jersey to Manhattan in fifteen minutes. (Presumably in an airplane, although by that time, I'm sure he and his buddies were already flying pretty high without one.)

Someone dared to challenge his drunken claim. (gasp!)

BET ON!!! (hiccup)

[New York Times]
To prove his point, Fitzpatrick drove to Teterboro airfield in New Jersey, stole an airplane, and without benefit of lights or a radio, flew it back to Manhattan. He'd planned to land on the nearby George Washington High School athletic field, but the dastardly folks there didn't leave the lights on for him. (How inconsiderate!) So, not willing to give up and risk losing the bet, he flew down a narrow street between buildings, lampposts and parked vehicles, and at three o'clock in the morning, set it down on St. Nicholas Avenue near 191st Street... right in front of the bar. 

The New York Times called his feat a fine landing and a feat of aeronautics, and the owner of the airplane was so impressed, he didn't press charges. Fitzpatrick was fined a hundred bucks, and since the monetary amount of the bet was never disclosed, maybe he was lucky enough to have something left over after he covered the fine. Then again, maybe that isn't important. After all, he was already lucky enough to have survived the drunken flight. And that was that.

                                                               Or not.

[morguefile]
Two years later, on October 4, 1958, Fitzpatrick was drinking in another Manhattan bar with his buddies, when someone dared to challenge his drunken boast about stealing a plane and landing it in the street. (gasp!)

What choice did he have? He couldn't let some random dude call him a liar, could he?

No way!

BET ON!!! (hiccup)



[New York Times]


Once again, Fitz drove to Teterboro, stole an airplane and flew it back to Manhattan. This time, just before one o'clock in the morning, he landed on Amsterdam and 187th Street, just outside a Yeshiva building. 

Authorities weren't nearly as impressed with his aeronautical feat this time around. He spent the next six months in the pokey, where I presume the booze was kept well beyond his reach. (Otherwise, he might have made some sort of wager about breaking out of the place...)

Even though Mr. Fitzpatrick passed away in 2009, those who still remember this extrovert with a competitive streak as wide as the Mississippi think of him as a bit of a folk hero.

A drink was even created in his honor... alcoholic, of course.

This drink, called the Late Night Flight, consists of kahlua, vodka, Chambord, blackberries, egg white and simple syrup, and it's designed to represent the layered appearance of New York City's night sky. Pretty, isn't it? (The recipe is readily available online if you're interested.)

This whole story kinda makes me think. Nobody ever claimed that booze increases one's intelligence level or boosts one's decision-making skills, but just think: if Mr. Fitzpatrick could land an airplane under such challenging circumstances while he was inebriated, what in the world might he have been capable of if he'd been sober...?

Next Wednesday will be the IWSG day, meaning I'll be posting here on on Wednesday instead of Friday, but next week, in addition to the Wednesday post here, I'll also be guest posting on another very spiffy blog on Monday, Wednesday, AND Friday. That other blog is The Really Real Housewives of America, a fun and informative blog run by four lovely ladies. They frequently feature guest bloggers, and (woo HOO!) next week, it's my turn. (They must be turning into desperate housewives of America, eh?) Don't worry, I'll remind you on Monday. I hope you can drop by, because I'll be sharing some really smart-assed totally useless helpful tips on saving time and money. Hope to seeya then!

                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


Leroy bet me I couldn't find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and I told him that was a stupid bet, because the rainbow was enough. [Rita Mae Brown]

Friday, September 18, 2015

By Land, Water, and Air

Thought for the day:  For those of you who have never had the pleasure of owning a British car, but want to know what it's like: Next big rainstorm, wait until dark, roll down all the windows, leave off lights and heater and wipers and go for a drive. Stop at every intersection and throw out a twenty dollar bill. It's not exactly the same, but it's real close.  [Mike Nash]

a small sampling of some of the Morgans at the show
I've never owned a British-made car, but I must confess, quite a few of them  make me salivate a teensy bit. Like the 1953 MGTD (preferably a convertible... in green) and just about ANY of the Morgans. This past Saturday was our town's annual British Car Fayre, so there were plenty of snazzy Brit cars available for me to ogle to my heart's content.

For the first time, the car show was also accompanied by a boot sale, and the weather was perfect. Cooler than it's been for a while, and overcast. Kinda like Brit weather, eh? Since I've already posted plenty of pictures from some of the other British Car Fayres we've attended, I'll only share a few this time around. That way, I can save plenty of room for the OTHER spiffy event we attended that day.

1910 Silver Ghost (Rolls Royce)
Not sure, but I think there were even more cars at the show this year than in the past, and quite a few of them were Rolls Royces. This one from 1910 was probably my favorite, though. Talk about classy!









It was a tough choice, but I think this was my favorite Morgan. The Trikings (3-wheelers) are pretty cool, too, but THIS car is king.












an amphibious Lotus!
THIS car is where the water part of this post's title comes into play. It was made to look like the Lotus Esprit submarine from the 1977 James Bond flick The Spy Who Loved Me. But it doesn't just look like the car from the movie... it actually moves in the water! A designer from Wales made it, and it is now owned by a Georgia fella, who launched it in U.S. waters for the first time at our local Lake Lanier.

Okay, ready to head to our next destination? As you can probably guess, it involves airborne vehicles... some very special airborne vehicles.  Some real beauties.


You start with a bag full of luck and an empty bag of experience. The trick is to fill the bag of experience before you empty the bag of luck.  [WWII military pilot]


Along with the impressive array of planes on display, both on the ground and in the air, there were also a number of WWII veterans and re-enactors there, as well. This properly-garbed re-enactor is standing inside of a WWII field tent, which contains authentic items from that time.







 And this WWII vet is standing beside the same kind of plane he served on as a bombardier. It was an absolute delight and honor to speak with him.












And here's another vet, along with a re-enactor who did a dandy job impersonating General MacArthur. I don't know if you can tell in the photo, but the vet was wearing a bright red smooch mark on his cheek.










Of the WWII vets who were there, this was the only original Tuskeegee airman present. It was a real honor to talk with him, too. At the rate we're losing our WWII vets, it's important to listen to their stories and thank them now, while we can. Also present at the show were representatives from a group with the Atlanta Historical Society, who have already taped hundreds of WWII vets telling their stories, and hope to get as many more recordings as they can, thus saving those stories for posterity. A noble project, don't you think?




Now, a handful of pictures of some things that caught my fancy:








Since I started out with some British cars, I figured I'd include a plane flown by the RAF, too. This one, called a Bulldog, was built by Scottish Aviation. Not for WWII, though. This was flown by the RAF from 1974-2001.



A male pilot is a confused soul who talks about women when he's flying, and about flying when he's with a woman. 

A lot of the nosecone art on WWII planes features various pin-up girls. Here are some I found kinda cool. These particular images were on teeshirts.






I'm glad that quote up there about pilots specifies male pilots, because there were quite a few female pilots during WWII, too.


Here's a couple of them. Unfortunately, it's just a photo of a photo... I didn't see any female WWII vets at the airfield.
















But WWII WASP humor was on display at a reenactor's tent.











We weren't sure if we'd have enough time to do both of these events justice in a single day. But with a positive attitude and lots of walking, we really COULD do it. And it was a lot of fun. I hope you enjoyed making the trip with us.




Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Friday, August 2, 2013

History Picks Its Path

Thought for the day:  When you come to a fork in the road, take it.  [Yogi Berra]

Sometimes, it seems like life is a labyrinth of choices, doesn't it? With a leap of faith, we pause at each fork in the road, and then choose one path after another as we make our way through the maze. As we continue our journey forward, we try not to waste too much time pondering the what ifs of the paths not taken.

Not today. Nope. Today, we're purposely gonna waste some time pondering a few historical what ifs. Hold your hand eye-level, with your thumb and forefinger separated by about an inch. That's how close the following historical events came to taking an entirely different path...


What if... Abraham Lincoln were assassinated before he even took office? Didja know he received thousands and thousands of death threats during his presidency? Didja know he came (hold up that thumb and forefinger again) this close to being assassinated before his inauguration even took place? The plot hinged on creating a distraction by staging a riot when he was passing through Baltimore en route to the inauguration, and then shooting him during the ensuing chaos. Luckily, Lincoln's head of security Allan Pinkerton (ring a bell?) uncovered the plot, and successfully thwarted it by changing to a circuitous travel route, and putting Lincoln in disguise.

What if... LBJ were killed the same day as JFK? He came... this close. Fourteen hours after Kennedy's death, when everyone's senses were on heightened alert, a Secret Service man spotted a dark figure walking on the Johnson property that night. Allegedly, with his finger on the trigger, Agent Gerald Blaine aimed his machine gun at the unknown figure. Luckily, he recognized Johnson before pulling that trigger.



What if... Germany had air superiority during World War II? After all, the country already had a stellar reputation for its technological ability. What if... Germany had a stealth bomber?

Believe it or not, they came this close...

You may have already known about Lincoln and Johnson, but I wonder how many of you know about this... how many of you know about Germany's stealth bomber? AKA the Horton HO 2-29.
Hermann Goering ordered German designers to come up with a bomber that could carry 1000 kg over 1000 km flying 1000 km per hour.  Two pilot brothers, Reimar and Walter Horton, came up with a flying wing design, and the first of only three prototypes was built and tested in March, 1944. The planes were built primarily out of wood, powered by jet engines, and coated with a mixture of charcoal dust and wood glue. Top speed was 970 km per hour.




Before Germany could begin producing the plane on an industrial scale, the Allied troops invaded, and captured the blueprints and what was left of the only remaining prototype.





Those remains are now at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum near Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C., where they have undergone extensive testing, and hopefully, will some day be put on display.



Analysis determined the canopy to be made from a polymethyl methacrylate (PMMA) plastic, which chemists developed a decade earlier.
 In 2008, following the original blueprint, and using only materials that were available in 1944, Northrup-Grumnan built a full-scale replica of the Horton HO 2-29. They also tested the stealth capability of the original charcoal dust and wood glue mixture, and determined that it would have provided a 20% reduction in radar detection. The Horton replica is currently on display at the San Diego Air and Space Museum.



So, tell me. Was this what if  revelation about the first stealth bomber... a flying wing, no less... as startling to you as it was to me? Know of any other what if that came this close to changing the course of history?

                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

                               The Road Not Taken

                                         Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
                                         And sorry I could not travel both
                                         And be one traveler, long I stood
                                        And looked down one as far as I could
                                        To where it bent in the undergrowth;

                                        Then took the other, as just as fair,
                                       And having perhaps the better claim
                                       Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
                                       Though as for that the passing there
                                       Had worn them really about the same,

                                       And both that morning equally lay
                                       In leaves no step had trodden black.
                                       Oh, I kept the first for another day!
                                       Yet knowing how way leads on to way
                                        I doubted if I should ever come back.

                                       I shall be telling this with a sigh
                                      Somewhere ages and ages hence:
                                      Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
                                      I took the one less traveled by,
                                     And that has made all the difference.