Pasturepilot

In other business, I did crawl under the panel and swap the landing light switch today. It'd morphed from a circuit breaker switch into a 45-second-timer in its (grumble grumble fifteen years more than my age) since original installation. Now, my friend Chris picked this bird up a year before I was born. He put a TON Of his time into making it into his traveling machine, but there were more than a few shortcuts he took in the process. He was an ATP, not an A&P, so there will be plenty of chances for me to improve upon the work he put into this bird. I ain't saying the main circuit breaker bus scared me, but it dang sure wouldn't impress any mechanic who saw the handiwork of an airline pilot armed with a screwdriver and whatever was in the spares bin at the Navy Flying Club.

Always happy to meet an old friend. (Dang, that sounds like something a time-traveler would say). If you're ever down near Atlanta, let me know. I'm always glad to meet the friends I already knew.

In the hours before signing the papers today, I did a few little housekeeping fixes I'd been putting off for (cough, cough) many years. Installed two new fuel gauges in the wing indicators. Those things are cheap, and LASAR was only too willing to sell me a new pair. Installed a new landing light circuit breaker switch, and cleaned out the pitot static system. Couple of bugs decided to try and defeat me with their pitot-static nest building skills.

Hey friends, You didn't know we were friends yet, but here we are. We're all members of the "Owned by a Mooney" club. (Flaps hanging because I shot this picture from a J-3. It was my second-most-mismatched formation flight ever) My connection with this M20C goes back a while. I was a mechanically-inclined airport kid, well on the way to earning my A&P when I ran off and joined the circus. A flying circus, if you will. I crewed for Chris Smisson on the airshow circuit through high school and much of college, and in addition to his fast-movers, he had an M20C. Johnson Bar, hand pump flaps. All the latest and greatest gizmos that 1992 had to offer: A BF Goodrich strike finder, Apollo LORAN, even a widget that deciphered morse code to identify the VOR and the radial you were on. It was a great go-somewhere bird. He sold a small percentage of the Mooney to a friend, Kelly, so the insurance company would be a little more understanding. When Chris died in 2003, the friend bought the remaining share of the bird. Both of these men were like family. Without their patience and generosity, I'd probably be running a grader for the county road department. There weren't a lot of tickets out of my little hometown for kids without means, but they helped me chase a dream. Fast forward two decades. The friend wants to sell the Mooney and make room for other flying machines. He's spent years making ridiculous offers to me whenever he wanted to sell an airplane. He tried to sell me one airplane for $1 years ago but I was making chump change flying RJs for a day job. I couldn't afford insurance on it, much less any real maintenance. I had to say no. This time, the offer was reasonable, and I'm doing a little better flying A320s for my day job and spinning words into stories for some busywork on the side. I'm becoming the caretaker of a bird that's been in my family of flying friends since 1980. I took my bride for a flight, fully respecting her veto power. "If this just had a headrest, I'd be asleep in no time. Buy this airplane," she said. So, here we go. Hi Guys. My name is Jeremy, and I'm newly owned by a Mooney.