Aussi Flight check

[rule911]

This was sent to me--kinda stupid, but kinda funny too... Funniest part, some of it is very true!

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Hi Mate, I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody
pilot's license back. You keep telling me you got all the right
contacts. Well now's your chance to make something happen for me
because, mate, I'm bloody desperate. But first, I'd better tell you
what happened during my last flight review with the CAA Examiner
On the phone, Ron (that's the CAA d*#"head) seemed a reasonable sort
of a bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight
review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have a look
over my property and let me operate from my own strip. Naturally I
agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit
surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead,
because the ALA (Authorized Landing Area) is about a mile away. I
explained that because this strip was so close to the homestead, it
was more convenient than the ALA, and despite the power lines
crossing about midway down the strip, it's really not a problem to
land and take-off, because at the halfway point down the strip
you're usually still on the ground.

For some reason Ron seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-
flight inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all
over again. Because the guy was watching me carefully, I walked
around the plane three times instead of my usual two.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's
>>>>>>>> cheeks. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously
>>>>>>>> better mood, I told him I was going to combine the test flight with
>>>>>>>> some farm work, as I had to deliver three poddy calves from the home
>>>>>>>> paddock to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught
>>>>>>>> the calves and threw them into the back of the ol' Cessna 172. We
>>>>>>>> climbed aboard, but Ron started getting onto me about weight and
>>>>>>>> balance calculations and all that crap. Of course I knew that sort
>>>>>>>> of thing was a waste of time because, calves like to move around a
>>>>>>>> bit particularly when they see themselves 500 feet off the ground!
>>>>>>>> So, it's bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know.
>>>>>>>> However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the
>>>>>>>> trim wheel set on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all
>>>>>>>> stages throughout the flight.

Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time
by tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 rpm. I then
discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was
wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he detected a
metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began
about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a
hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The
selector can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's
jammed on `All tanks', so I suppose that's Okay.

However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on
vibration from a stainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a
beaut little possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass.
My explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slumped back in the
to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the
right. "Hell" I thought, "not the starboard wheel chock again".

The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked around just in
time to see a rock thrown by the prop-wash disappear completely
through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really
in trouble", I thought.

While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement
that we taxi to the ALA, and instead took off under the power lines.
Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started
coughing right at the lift off point, and then he bloody screamed
his head off. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy, Ron" I told him firmly. "That often happens on
take-off and there is a good reason for it". I explained patiently
that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I
accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for
the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super
MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up.
Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but in general it
works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.

Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test
flight. He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became
lost in prayer. (I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days). I
selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax.
Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500 feet.
I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because, as
you know getting FAX access out here is a friggin' joke and the
weather is always 8/8 blue anyway. But since I had that near miss
with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinking on that.

>>>>>>>> Anyhow, on leveling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into my
>>>>>>>> improved pasture. I hate bloody camels, and always carry a loaded
>>>>>>>> 303 clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of
>>>>>>>> the bastards.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I
>>>>>>>> decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled
>>>>>>>> the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron was friggin' electric. As I
>>>>>>>> fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his
>>>>>>>> eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as if he had
>>>>>>>> been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact,
>>>>>>>> Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a
>>>>>>>> second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron
>>>>>>>> was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko
>>>>>>>> animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little
>>>>>>>> problem with the tyre.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my
>>>>>>>> fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one
>>>>>>>> smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a
>>>>>>>> sideslip from 10,500 feet down to 500 feet at 130 knots indicated
>>>>>>>> (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to
>>>>>>>> the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate! About half way through
>>>>>>>> the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully
>>>>>>>> suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment
>>>>>>>> to
>>>>>>>> on this unusual sight, but Ron looked a bit green and had rolled
>>>>>>>> himself into the fetal position and w as screamin' his freakin' head
>>>>>>>> off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been
>>>>>>>> there, it was so bloody funny!
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> At about 500 feet I leveled out, but for some reason we kept
>>>>>>>> sinking. When we reached 50 feet I applied full power but nothin'
>>>>>>>> happened. No noise no nothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me
>>>>>>>> instructor's voice in me head saying "carb heat, carb heat". So I
>>>>>>>> pulled carb heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine
>>>>>>>> finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me
>>>>>>>> tell you!
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have
>>>>>>>> it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the
>>>>>>>> cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. BJ, you would have
>>>>>>>> been really proud of me as I didn't panic once, not once, but I did
>>>>>>>> make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me
>>>>>>>> gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a while
>>>>>>>> (now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared.
>>>>>>>> His
>>>>>>>> Mouth opened wide, very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy,"
>>>>>>>> I told him, "we'll be out of this in a minute".
>>>>>>>> Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still straight and
>>>>>>>> level and still at 50 feet.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down, and I
>>>>>>>> kept thinking to myself, "I hope Ron didn't notice that I had
>>>>>>>> forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing". This minor
>>>>>>>> tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to do
>>>>>>>> a half roll to get upright again.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow
>>>>>>>> strip between them. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land
>>>>>>>> right there." Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow
>>>>>>>> approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap. Soon the
>>>>>>>> stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut it's
>>>>>>>> circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were slow
>>>>>>>> enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75 foot final and put her
>>>>>>>> down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you
>>>>>>>> could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved
>>>>>>>> wrong again!
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of
>>>>>>>> humor. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He
>>>>>>>> couldn't stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the
>>>>>>>> calves, who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut wrenching fits
>>>>>>>> of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to
>>>>>>>> stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the
>>>>>>>> homestead. It was then that Ron really lost the plot and started
>>>>>>>> running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? The last time I
>>>>>>>> saw him he was off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and
>>>>>>>> still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had been
>>>>>>>> confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Anyhow mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this
>>>>>>>> letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly;
>>>>>>>> until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and
>>>>>>>> undertaken another flight proficiency test.
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock
>>>>>>>> and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what
>>>>>>>> else I did that was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me
>>>>>>>> flamin' license. Can you?
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>> Ralph H Bell
>>>>>>>> Mud Creek Plantation