I just ignored his request. What does he know? He's not a pilot.
“GABC, keep it tight, you require a flight plan to enter American airspace!”
There went Mr. Know-It-All in the tower again. If he was so smart, why didn't he just open a plan for me. Duuuh!!
Finally, a safe distance from the shore, where trees could inflict on me bodily harm if I had an engine failure, I turned left downwind thinking, “Right on! Now I'm gliding distance to either side of the river! I can choose the safest side.” A good pilot has to keep his options open.
“GABC, tighten it up!”
I fiddled with the knobs on the dash, and couldn't find the radio station playing Archie Bell and the Drells. I guess tower had his ghetto-blaster on the oldies station. Good AM radio up here in the Soo.
Just then, I noticed something out of place. There was a bunch of heat coming out of some holes in the dash. DAMN!! ENGINE FIRE!! Now, I know heat rises, so I put my hand on top of the dash, near the front of the canopy. It was coming up there too! I shook my head and keyed the mike, “Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is GABC, GABC, GABC, roger, experiencing engine fire two miles from runway 30, roger, am putting down on the left side of the river, roger....roger, over and out.” At least that's what I thought I said. I've trained myself to say “roger” a lot so tower knows I'm a plane and not the Esso truck. (Always thinking
) You never know what you'll do in situations like that.I swung around, slammed full power and pointed the nose down as soon as practicable. If I'm on fire, I'd better get down, but FAST.
“GABC, can you make it to the runway?”
Stupid tower, I was way too busy troubleshooting by pressing all those switches and doo-dads as fast as I could. I ignored the moron again. But then, the fire stopped! There was no more heat coming out of those holes in the dash. Come to think of it, my feet were a lot colder too. Probably just an adrenaline rush, but the fire was definitely out. Looks like all my troubleshooting skills paid off.
I thought I'd go back onto the downwind leg, when I heard tower ramble on another stupid line, “Jazz flight 123, overshoot, overshoot, overshoot, go around, we've got an emergency.”
Then I heard some other idiot say, “Roger, Jazz flight 123 overshooting.”
On my way back up to circuit altitude, I tried to tune into the jazz station, but the GPS wouldn't take channel 123. Damn, I was tired! I changed my mind, and headed straight for the numbers, just like the old instructor told me once. It's not safe to fly when fatigued.
“Soo tower this is GABC, roger, comin' in for a landing, roger.”
I decided to land on runway 04 for a change. No problem, well, except for the guy in the fire-truck driving beside me making wild gestures as I taxied back to the College hangar.
I just waved back, stared straight ahead, grinned, and dreamed of how I'd be living the life at Air Canada in another three years.
