Mooney Down, 7/11 in Indiana

[Danb]

Dave, I get it , but there are auto accidents by the thousands many by good drivers in excellent vehicles, yes we assume a high level of risk, life is nothing but risk with the same end result for each of us. I would not beat yourself up, live your life to the fullest enjoy and cherish what you have be a giving person. A great friend and excellent pilot of mine had recent stroke ..his wife is so glad he did what he could when he could. God has our plan laid out I don't want to know what it is..mike is in my prayers I do no know him but honestly feel I owe him the thoughts and prayers that may make his recovery better..may god bless us all..

[DaV8or]

Update from the hospital:

 

Mike is conscious but not speaking due to being on a respirator.  He is responsive, moving his legs. He has suffered broken ribs, eye-socket and arm, as well as a punctured lung.  He is scheduled for surgery for his arm today.  His brother and nephew were with him and optimistic for a full recovery.  They are not encouraging visitors for a while. 

 

Prayers are still appropriate.  

 

Man I really wish him a speedy recovery and a load of awesome drugs at this point! Sounds like he's hanging in pretty tough so far. More prayers...

 

Anybody still think Richard's airbag seat belts are a waste of money?? I bet you all the folks directly involved really, really, really wish they had had them! I am making an assumption they didn't.

[AndyFromCB]

I hate this. Like everyone else here, I too am sickened and wish for a speedy recovery for Mike and strength and courage for Bill's family.

 

I may be the only one, but accidents like this where you kind of, sort of get to know the accident victim before the accident, where the pilot's are known to be of a good caliber, where the airplane was likely to be in good condition, yet end in a result like this, really make me question, is this hobby of mine worth dying for?? I feel like this could be me on the very next flight.

 

Again, prayers to the families.

 

Very well could be. Then again, I was walking the old ute trail yesterday morning, taking film of marmots, about 2 hours later 7 people got struck by lighting, one died. 

[Sven]

The earliest passion I can remember is flying. I was obsessed with airplanes and becoming a pilot. All the early art projects my mother saved had an airplane drawn or painted on them. So, in 1981 when my instructor let me solo after flying around the pattern for seven hours, I had achieved the first part of my dream. Only a few flight hours later I experienced an engine failure, alone, in a 152 over a lake with no altitude. Not only was I going to crash but I was going to drown. That was the first time I looked death in the face and I was only a teenager. My youthful immortality “virginity” was taken from me and I was forever molded by experience.

 

Thirty (plus) years later I am a Mooney owner and pilot. But I am a much different pilot than I was in my youth. Truthfully, it’s not easy for me to just hop into the Mooney and go flying without a care. I have always been an optimist. So what I’m about to say sounds out of character for those that know me. Back when my engine failed I decided to leave aviation and my dream. Two weeks later my instructor told me I had to “get back on the horse.” He said what I had experienced was rare and would probably never happen again. He also told me something that always stuck with me. “I’m going to teach you to fly the airplane like it’s going to kill you.” That was such an odd and discomforting statement at the time. 

 

To this day, every time I sit in that left seat I think about those words. I remember that helpless feeling of going down toward that lake wishing it were different and that somehow I would reach the shore. At the time I felt that incident robbed me of the joy of flight. And, truthfully, a part of me still fights that feeling. What that experience did for me was to bring a new level of maturity to what had been my rather youthful, naive, and dreamy flight training and turned me into a real pilot. Up until that incident I had flown patterns, figure eights, buzzed pastured cows (and a few fisherman), and generally had an idealistic piloting experience.

 

I do not know either of these men like a few of you Mooney Space members do. We are bonded to them because we are pilots and we drive Mooneys. More than that, we are caring human beings and we long to take away this hurt from the families and friends who know them and love them dearly. Words simply fail us with a loss this deep.

 

We train over and over for a situation like this and hope it never happens to us. When it does, we long to understand why and fight the urge to come to quick conclusions, play out scenarios and even find blame. But at the end of the day we realize that so many things in life are out our control. Sometimes we survive due to another’s intervention, our own skill level, luck, and sometimes, ironically, our own stupidity. But sometimes we get seriously hurt and sometimes we die.

 

No doubt our community will learn from this tragedy and thereby help many others who may find themselves in a similar unthinkable situation. Life has taught us that even the best among us are not immune. But it doesn’t stop there. Every step you take to become a better pilot, you honor those who’ve flown West. Every time you take an online class with AOPA, EAA or the FAA’s W.I.N.G.S. program, you’ve honored not only them but yourself and your passengers. Every seminar you take, question you answer on Mooney Space, every time you put an instructor in your right seat and tell them to do their worst, you honor the institution of “pilot.” 

 

I can relate to our friend Dave who wonders if this is really worth the risk. Since my first incident I’ve had a near miss midair (not my fault), a complete electrical failure, and a blown tire at high speed that almost sent me “into the rhubarb” as my grandfather used to say, I’ve had a dear uncle killed by his plane and I was witness to the tragedy at Reno in 2011. I don’t tell you these things to elicit pity. Fly long enough and bad things happen. You have these stories, too. Dave eludes to it and I have certainly felt it. There are a thousand reasons why you should never fly again. And, if USA Today has anything to say about it or the real estate developers in Santa Barbara have their wish, none of us Mooney pilots ever will fly again.

 

Sometimes I feel like I’m the most fortunate person in the world as I fly my little Mooney up and down the Northern California coast. But some days I’m fighting that fear which experience has instilled in that place where joy, amazement and wonder recently lived.

 

In complete honesty, I went to the hangar today with the intent of flying my Mooney and thought about this tragedy and didn’t. Did I chicken out? Maybe. Will I fly again? Certainly. Maybe even tomorrow. But today was not that day. It’s cliche to say it but my head wasn’t in the game. My airport is under construction and the taxiways are all new. I’ve not flown in a couple weeks and there was a gusty but manageable crosswind. Instead, I cleaned the windows, wiped the dust off the wings, cleaned part of the belly, and talked to any pilot with a hangar door open. I loaned out a couple tools and gave away some sheet metal screws. I watched a young lady with a giant grin start her tailwheel endorsement in a beautiful Cessna 140 and listened to ATC on my handheld. Was today a loss? I’ll let you be the judge.

 

Dreams give life to passion. Our passion is flight. But passion comes at a cost. It places us at risk. To fly is one of humankind’s oldest dreams. We are fortunate enough to have been born in an age where flight is possible and the Earth is far below us. Though reason and even experience tells me this is something I should leave to the birds I smile. Because in December of 1981 I became a bird and I left this nest called Earth. I am among an elite group of human beings that can command an airplane. We are called Pilots. Among my fellow pilots I do my best to be my best so that, should the unthinkable happen again, I have a chance to fly again. Should my best efforts be overwhelmed by circumstances I will fly West knowing that I will be replaced by some little kid looking at an airplane and wondering what it would be like to be a pilot, a Mooney pilot

 

Mike, may your recovery be swift and your passion undamaged.

 

Bill, peace to your memory.

 

 

 

p.s. To astelmaszek- I've been hit by lightning 3 times and I'm still here.

[FlyDave]

 

The earliest passion I can remember is flying. I was obsessed with airplanes and becoming a pilot. All the early art projects my mother saved had an airplane drawn or painted on them. So, in 1981 when my instructor let me solo after flying around the pattern for seven hours, I had achieved the first part of my dream. Only a few flight hours later I experienced an engine failure, alone, in a 152 over a lake with no altitude. Not only was I going to crash but I was going to drown. That was the first time I looked death in the face and I was only a teenager. My youthful immortality “virginity” was taken from me and I was forever molded by experience.

 

Thirty (plus) years later I am a Mooney owner and pilot. But I am a much different pilot than I was in my youth. Truthfully, it’s not easy for me to just hop into the Mooney and go flying without a care. I have always been an optimist. So what I’m about to say sounds out of character for those that know me. Back when my engine failed I decided to leave aviation and my dream. Two weeks later my instructor told me I had to “get back on the horse.” He said what I had experienced was rare and would probably never happen again. He also told me something that always stuck with me. “I’m going to teach you to fly the airplane like it’s going to kill you.” That was such an odd and discomforting statement at the time. 

 

To this day, every time I sit in that left seat I think about those words. I remember that helpless feeling of going down toward that lake wishing it were different and that somehow I would reach the shore. At the time I felt that incident robbed me of the joy of flight. And, truthfully, a part of me still fights that feeling. What that experience did for me was to bring a new level of maturity to what had been my rather youthful, naive, and dreamy flight training and turned me into a real pilot. Up until that incident I had flown patterns, figure eights, buzzed pastured cows (and a few fisherman), and generally had an idealistic piloting experience.

 

I do not know either of these men like a few of you Mooney Space members do. We are bonded to them because we are pilots and we drive Mooneys. More than that, we are caring human beings and we long to take away this hurt from the families and friends who know them and love them dearly. Words simply fail us with a loss this deep.

 

We train over and over for a situation like this and hope it never happens to us. When it does, we long to understand why and fight the urge to come to quick conclusions, play out scenarios and even find blame. But at the end of the day we realize that so many things in life are out our control. Sometimes we survive due to another’s intervention, our own skill level, luck, and sometimes, ironically, our own stupidity. But sometimes we get seriously hurt and sometimes we die.

 

No doubt our community will learn from this tragedy and thereby help many others who may find themselves in a similar unthinkable situation. Life has taught us that even the best among us are not immune. But it doesn’t stop there. Every step you take to become a better pilot, you honor those who’ve flown West. Every time you take an online class with AOPA, EAA or the FAA’s W.I.N.G.S. program, you’ve honored not only them but yourself and your passengers. Every seminar you take, question you answer on Mooney Space, every time you put an instructor in your right seat and tell them to do their worst, you honor the institution of “pilot.” 

 

I can relate to our friend Dave who wonders if this is really worth the risk. Since my first incident I’ve had a near miss midair (not my fault), a complete electrical failure, and a blown tire at high speed that almost sent me “into the rhubarb” as my grandfather used to say, I’ve had a dear uncle killed by his plane and I was witness to the tragedy at Reno in 2011. I don’t tell you these things to elicit pity. Fly long enough and bad things happen. You have these stories, too. Dave eludes to it and I have certainly felt it. There are a thousand reasons why you should never fly again. And, if USA Today has anything to say about it or the real estate developers in Santa Barbara have their wish, none of us Mooney pilots ever will fly again.

 

Sometimes I feel like I’m the most fortunate person in the world as I fly my little Mooney up and down the Northern California coast. But some days I’m fighting that fear which experience has instilled in that place where joy, amazement and wonder recently lived.

 

In complete honesty, I went to the hangar today with the intent of flying my Mooney and thought about this tragedy and didn’t. Did I chicken out? Maybe. Will I fly again? Certainly. Maybe even tomorrow. But today was not that day. It’s cliche to say it but my head wasn’t in the game. My airport is under construction and the taxiways are all new. I’ve not flown in a couple weeks and there was a gusty but manageable crosswind. Instead, I cleaned the windows, wiped the dust off the wings, cleaned part of the belly, and talked to any pilot with a hangar door open. I loaned out a couple tools and gave away some sheet metal screws. I watched a young lady with a giant grin start her tailwheel endorsement in a beautiful Cessna 140 and listened to ATC on my handheld. Was today a loss? I’ll let you be the judge.

 

Dreams give life to passion. Our passion is flight. But passion comes at a cost. It places us at risk. To fly is one of humankind’s oldest dreams. We are fortunate enough to have been born in an age where flight is possible and the Earth is far below us. Though reason and even experience tells me this is something I should leave to the birds I smile. Because in December of 1981 I became a bird and I left this nest called Earth. I am among an elite group of human beings that can command an airplane. We are called Pilots. Among my fellow pilots I do my best to be my best so that, should the unthinkable happen again, I have a chance to fly again. Should my best efforts be overwhelmed by circumstances I will fly West knowing that I will be replaced by some little kid looking at an airplane and wondering what it would be like to be a pilot, a Mooney pilot

 

Mike, may your recovery be swift and your passion undamaged.

 

Bill, peace to your memory.

 

 

 

>> p.s. To astelmaszek- I've been hit by lightening 3 times and I'm still here.

 

 

Beautiful and poignant post Sven!

Not to be flippant but, in reference to your last line, you should be playing the lottery every week!

[Seth]

The earliest passion I can remember is flying. I was obsessed with airplanes and becoming a pilot. All the early art projects my mother saved had an airplane drawn or painted on them. So, in 1981 when my instructor let me solo after flying around the pattern for seven hours, I had achieved the first part of my dream. Only a few flight hours later I experienced an engine failure, alone, in a 152 over a lake with no altitude. Not only was I going to crash but I was going to drown. That was the first time I looked death in the face and I was only a teenager. My youthful immortality “virginity” was taken from me and I was forever molded by experience.

Thirty (plus) years later I am a Mooney owner and pilot. But I am a much different pilot than I was in my youth. Truthfully, it’s not easy for me to just hop into the Mooney and go flying without a care. I have always been an optimist. So what I’m about to say sounds out of character for those that know me. Back when my engine failed I decided to leave aviation and my dream. Two weeks later my instructor told me I had to “get back on the horse.” He said what I had experienced was rare and would probably never happen again. He also told me something that always stuck with me. “I’m going to teach you to fly the airplane like it’s going to kill you.” That was such an odd and discomforting statement at the time.

To this day, every time I sit in that left seat I think about those words. I remember that helpless feeling of going down toward that lake wishing it were different and that somehow I would reach the shore. At the time I felt that incident robbed me of the joy of flight. And, truthfully, a part of me still fights that feeling. What that experience did for me was to bring a new level of maturity to what had been my rather youthful, naive, and dreamy flight training and turned me into a real pilot. Up until that incident I had flown patterns, figure eights, buzzed pastured cows (and a few fisherman), and generally had an idealistic piloting experience.

I do not know either of these men like a few of you Mooney Space members do. We are bonded to them because we are pilots and we drive Mooneys. More than that, we are caring human beings and we long to take away this hurt from the families and friends who know them and love them dearly. Words simply fail us with a loss this deep.

We train over and over for a situation like this and hope it never happens to us. When it does, we long to understand why and fight the urge to come to quick conclusions, play out scenarios and even find blame. But at the end of the day we realize that so many things in life are out our control. Sometimes we survive due to another’s intervention, our own skill level, luck, and sometimes, ironically, our own stupidity. But sometimes we get seriously hurt and sometimes we die.

No doubt our community will learn from this tragedy and thereby help many others who may find themselves in a similar unthinkable situation. Life has taught us that even the best among us are not immune. But it doesn’t stop there. Every step you take to become a better pilot, you honor those who’ve flown West. Every time you take an online class with AOPA, EAA or the FAA’s W.I.N.G.S. program, you’ve honored not only them but yourself and your passengers. Every seminar you take, question you answer on Mooney Space, every time you put an instructor in your right seat and tell them to do their worst, you honor the institution of “pilot.”

I can relate to our friend Dave who wonders if this is really worth the risk. Since my first incident I’ve had a near miss midair (not my fault), a complete electrical failure, and a blown tire at high speed that almost sent me “into the rhubarb” as my grandfather used to say, I’ve had a dear uncle killed by his plane and I was witness to the tragedy at Reno in 2011. I don’t tell you these things to elicit pity. Fly long enough and bad things happen. You have these stories, too. Dave eludes to it and I have certainly felt it. There are a thousand reasons why you should never fly again. And, if USA Today has anything to say about it or the real estate developers in Santa Barbara have their wish, none of us Mooney pilots ever will fly again.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the most fortunate person in the world as I fly my little Mooney up and down the Northern California coast. But some days I’m fighting that fear which experience has instilled in that place where joy, amazement and wonder recently lived.

In complete honesty, I went to the hangar today with the intent of flying my Mooney and thought about this tragedy and didn’t. Did I chicken out? Maybe. Will I fly again? Certainly. Maybe even tomorrow. But today was not that day. It’s cliche to say it but my head wasn’t in the game. My airport is under construction and the taxiways are all new. I’ve not flown in a couple weeks and there was a gusty but manageable crosswind. Instead, I cleaned the windows, wiped the dust off the wings, cleaned part of the belly, and talked to any pilot with a hangar door open. I loaned out a couple tools and gave away some sheet metal screws. I watched a young lady with a giant grin start her tailwheel endorsement in a beautiful Cessna 140 and listened to ATC on my handheld. Was today a loss? I’ll let you be the judge.

Dreams give life to passion. Our passion is flight. But passion comes at a cost. It places us at risk. To fly is one of humankind’s oldest dreams. We are fortunate enough to have been born in an age where flight is possible and the Earth is far below us. Though reason and even experience tells me this is something I should leave to the birds I smile. Because in December of 1981 I became a bird and I left this nest called Earth. I am among an elite group of human beings that can command an airplane. We are called Pilots. Among my fellow pilots I do my best to be my best so that, should the unthinkable happen again, I have a chance to fly again. Should my best efforts be overwhelmed by circumstances I will fly West knowing that I will be replaced by some little kid looking at an airplane and wondering what it would be like to be a pilot, a Mooney pilot

Mike, may your recovery be swift and your passion undamaged.

Bill, peace to your memory.

p.s. To astelmaszek- I've been hit by lightning 3 times and I'm still here.

Sven, you couldn't have said it any better. Thoughts and prayers to the families. We really have all become one big family. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet Bill and I hope Mike recovers quickly and without too much pain.

Fly safe.

-Seth

[DaV8or]

 

p.s. To astelmaszek- I've been hit by lightning 3 times and I'm still here.

 

 

Seriously, stay inside!   Thank you for your post. I agree with all of it.

 

It should be known that I flew late this afternoon to catch the sunset and it was a great flight around my big ol' patch. I have by no means given up. I just seriously question my sanity, particularly for the sake of my wife. She knows nothing of the MooneySpace members that have died since I have been a member. That's right newbies, more than one MooneySpace member has died while flying their Mooney. I worry much, much more for her than me. We don't have children, but those that do, should consider them too.

 

We run the numbers, do the research and tell ourselves, "That guy was an idiot! I would never do that!".  83% of all accidents are pilot error we say. Mechanical failures only account for 13% of fatal accidents so they say. Learn to not make mistakes and you won't end up like Bill and Mike... or could we? To that I have to add-

 

 

We train over and over for a situation like this and hope it never happens to us.

 

Actually, in the case of this accident, I have to say we don't train for this event much at all. Quite reasonably so, because we have no good way to do so. Lose your engine at 100' what do you do!! Who actually trained in a realistic manor for this?? We are told to steer straight ahead and only steer a little to the side. Fly the plane as far into the crash as possible. That is what Bill and Mike did. I am quite sure neither of them really trained for this situation at all. You get only one go at this one.

 

I'm not trying to get people to quit, or advocating that. Just we all really need to think about this hobby we have and what it could mean to the family, not just ourselves. The people left behind are those that suffer. Not you. You get to die, "doing what you love".

 

For this reason, I encourage all that decide to continue to fly, to do all that we can to be safe. Consider adding additional safety devices to your plane. Get training if you might need it. Seriously reconsider night flight, approaches to minimums and extended flight over water, mountains and forests. Have the courage to say no, "Today, we do not fly." when the indications are bad. Yes, the briefers are often wrong, yes, the engine almost never quits, yes, I do have fancy glass tech that should save me, but is it worth the risk? To the family? Consider Bill and Mike. They have suffered for us in a way.

 

Now, go out and fly. Just make sure you understand what you are doing and what it might mean to somebody else.

 

[aaronk25]

The earliest passion I can remember is flying. I was obsessed with airplanes and becoming a pilot. All the early art projects my mother saved had an airplane drawn or painted on them. So, in 1981 when my instructor let me solo after flying around the pattern for seven hours, I had achieved the first part of my dream. Only a few flight hours later I experienced an engine failure, alone, in a 152 over a lake with no altitude. Not only was I going to crash but I was going to drown. That was the first time I looked death in the face and I was only a teenager. My youthful immortality “virginity” was taken from me and I was forever molded by experience.

Thirty (plus) years later I am a Mooney owner and pilot. But I am a much different pilot than I was in my youth. Truthfully, it’s not easy for me to just hop into the Mooney and go flying without a care. I have always been an optimist. So what I’m about to say sounds out of character for those that know me. Back when my engine failed I decided to leave aviation and my dream. Two weeks later my instructor told me I had to “get back on the horse.” He said what I had experienced was rare and would probably never happen again. He also told me something that always stuck with me. “I’m going to teach you to fly the airplane like it’s going to kill you.” That was such an odd and discomforting statement at the time.

To this day, every time I sit in that left seat I think about those words. I remember that helpless feeling of going down toward that lake wishing it were different and that somehow I would reach the shore. At the time I felt that incident robbed me of the joy of flight. And, truthfully, a part of me still fights that feeling. What that experience did for me was to bring a new level of maturity to what had been my rather youthful, naive, and dreamy flight training and turned me into a real pilot. Up until that incident I had flown patterns, figure eights, buzzed pastured cows (and a few fisherman), and generally had an idealistic piloting experience.

I do not know either of these men like a few of you Mooney Space members do. We are bonded to them because we are pilots and we drive Mooneys. More than that, we are caring human beings and we long to take away this hurt from the families and friends who know them and love them dearly. Words simply fail us with a loss this deep.

We train over and over for a situation like this and hope it never happens to us. When it does, we long to understand why and fight the urge to come to quick conclusions, play out scenarios and even find blame. But at the end of the day we realize that so many things in life are out our control. Sometimes we survive due to another’s intervention, our own skill level, luck, and sometimes, ironically, our own stupidity. But sometimes we get seriously hurt and sometimes we die.

No doubt our community will learn from this tragedy and thereby help many others who may find themselves in a similar unthinkable situation. Life has taught us that even the best among us are not immune. But it doesn’t stop there. Every step you take to become a better pilot, you honor those who’ve flown West. Every time you take an online class with AOPA, EAA or the FAA’s W.I.N.G.S. program, you’ve honored not only them but yourself and your passengers. Every seminar you take, question you answer on Mooney Space, every time you put an instructor in your right seat and tell them to do their worst, you honor the institution of “pilot.”

I can relate to our friend Dave who wonders if this is really worth the risk. Since my first incident I’ve had a near miss midair (not my fault), a complete electrical failure, and a blown tire at high speed that almost sent me “into the rhubarb” as my grandfather used to say, I’ve had a dear uncle killed by his plane and I was witness to the tragedy at Reno in 2011. I don’t tell you these things to elicit pity. Fly long enough and bad things happen. You have these stories, too. Dave eludes to it and I have certainly felt it. There are a thousand reasons why you should never fly again. And, if USA Today has anything to say about it or the real estate developers in Santa Barbara have their wish, none of us Mooney pilots ever will fly again.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the most fortunate person in the world as I fly my little Mooney up and down the Northern California coast. But some days I’m fighting that fear which experience has instilled in that place where joy, amazement and wonder recently lived.

In complete honesty, I went to the hangar today with the intent of flying my Mooney and thought about this tragedy and didn’t. Did I chicken out? Maybe. Will I fly again? Certainly. Maybe even tomorrow. But today was not that day. It’s cliche to say it but my head wasn’t in the game. My airport is under construction and the taxiways are all new. I’ve not flown in a couple weeks and there was a gusty but manageable crosswind. Instead, I cleaned the windows, wiped the dust off the wings, cleaned part of the belly, and talked to any pilot with a hangar door open. I loaned out a couple tools and gave away some sheet metal screws. I watched a young lady with a giant grin start her tailwheel endorsement in a beautiful Cessna 140 and listened to ATC on my handheld. Was today a loss? I’ll let you be the judge.

Dreams give life to passion. Our passion is flight. But passion comes at a cost. It places us at risk. To fly is one of humankind’s oldest dreams. We are fortunate enough to have been born in an age where flight is possible and the Earth is far below us. Though reason and even experience tells me this is something I should leave to the birds I smile. Because in December of 1981 I became a bird and I left this nest called Earth. I am among an elite group of human beings that can command an airplane. We are called Pilots. Among my fellow pilots I do my best to be my best so that, should the unthinkable happen again, I have a chance to fly again. Should my best efforts be overwhelmed by circumstances I will fly West knowing that I will be replaced by some little kid looking at an airplane and wondering what it would be like to be a pilot, a Mooney pilot

Mike, may your recovery be swift and your passion undamaged.

Bill, peace to your memory.

p.s. To astelmaszek- I've been hit by lightning 3 times and I'm still here.

Sven,

I've had this uneasy feeling in my stomach since yesterday after learning of what happened to Bill and Mike. I've been running scenarios though my head all weekend and just can't understand how and why they went "in" as hard as they did. Maybe I've been trying to justify it and assess fault so I can go forward believing that I would do something different but I'm finding that's difficult to do knowing how much talent occupied the front two seats.

This weekend, with a heavy heart I attended a wedding with my new bride and while she was on the dance floor with the rest of her friends I flipped though Mooneyspace and after a few mins of reading your post I broke down and cried and had to slip out for a while to get myself together.

I've flown a lot the past year, across a lot of water (620nm non-stop) and mountains with a almost no expense spared maintenance budget, but no matter how prepared we might be the inevitable may happen and until today I always believed, if I had to crash, I would ALWAYS crash "successfully" and hit the softest thing possible while bringing the plane to a stop over the longest distance allowable.

Today that feeling of immortality is gone.

Today I wish I could have cleaned bugs and talked to anyone with a open hanger door.

[MooneyPTG]

Sven,

Your should publish this. Very well said. I am making a copy of it and putting it in my flight bag.

[scottfromiowa]

Sven: Bravo, Thank you. For me, your prose was beautiful and cathartic...

[carusoam]

Nicely worded thoughts, Sven...

Thanks for sharing.

Thanks to the community for sharing.

Best regards,

-a-

[231Pilot]

My prayers for Bill's family and for Mike's recovery.  Regardless of our preparations, it could be any of us.  Whether in our Mooneys, our cars, or just walking, accidents happen.  This one breaks my heart.

[mooneygirl]

Mike Elliott continues to do well this morning. Some of the doctors have come in to get readings before they bring the whole gaggle in to talk about the case. They have made side comments stating he is doing very well. He looks better everyday. He had a good nights rest last night according to the nurses. I actually got a little sleep last night as well. There isn't anything that can be done right now but let his body heal itself. Once the lungs heal a little more they will start to take him off the ventilator. No internal organs have been damaged. No spinal or neurological problems have been detected. It looks like he really got the best outcome in a series of tragic events.

 

 

This is from Facebook: Nick Elliott

[rbridges]

 

Mike Elliott continues to do well this morning. Some of the doctors have come in to get readings before they bring the whole gaggle in to talk about the case. They have made side comments stating he is doing very well. He looks better everyday. He had a good nights rest last night according to the nurses. I actually got a little sleep last night as well. There isn't anything that can be done right now but let his body heal itself. Once the lungs heal a little more they will start to take him off the ventilator. No internal organs have been damaged. No spinal or neurological problems have been detected. It looks like he really got the best outcome in a series of tragic events.

 

 

This is from Facebook: Nick Elliott

 

 

a silver lining to a terrible tragedy.  I saw this thread when it first started and names weren't known.  I didn't realize how close to home it was going to hit.

[aviatoreb]

That was beautiful Sven.  Thank you.

[Bob]

Bill's family, I wish you all the best in recovering from your loss and this tragic event!

 

Mike, Continue to be strong and you have a lot of people cheering for you!

 

Sven, Thanks!

 

This was on my mind today while I flew my family (myself, wife and daughter) home today.  All went well, just increased stresses.

 

I did notice that that Bill's engine got a new crankshaft last year.  Interested to see if it was a factor, I will wait for the final report, without any speculation.

 

Rest in peace Bill!

[jnisley]

Thanks Sven for the beautifully written piece, it speaks to my heart, this August it'll be three years since my instructor/friend (for both my initial license and IFR ticket) was killed along with his student in a night IFR training accident, at that time I chose to "get back on the horse" but my Mooney partner hasn't flown since, even though he says he wants to someday, regardless if he does or not, I respect his decision.

[Danb]

Many beautiful thoughts not much more to be said..Aaron I went to the airport to hanger fly and kinda of hang out alone..then I just grabbed my keys and flew the S New Jersey coastline and came back..I'm sure the guys would have wanted that...

[fantom]

Keep praying, everyone!

[Urs_Wildermuth]

What none of them would want is any of us giving up flying over this!

 

It's a horrible accident and that 2 of our midst are inside it is gut wrenching, but while our thoughts are with them and their family, we need to keep the faith in God, ourselfs and the wonderful airplanes we fly. We all know that there is a residual risk to everything we do. We all know that we can even be killed in bed if the roof beam collapses or by some other reason. We here have an accident involving two very experienced aviators and one of the best proven designs in GA, which does prove the point that we can only be "safe" by stopping to live and not doing the things we love to do.

 

Sven has written a beautiful piece here, I fully agree with it and will keep it for reference.

[mooneygirl]

I have to say that Bill and Mike's accident have deeply affected me.  My deepest sympathies go out to Bill's families and prayers to Mike.

 

Some of you may know my story, but for those who don't, here is what happened to me and what I did in the wake of a plane crash.

 

In 2003 I was flying left seat in my Dad's C model-N6619U with my Dad in the right seat and my daughter and her boyfriend in the back seat. We were flying them back to college in Eugene Oregon out of Hood River OR.  What I came to find out in the ensuing weeks after investigation was that a valve came unseated on a compression stroke shortly after take off.  I was maybe 100 feet in the air, about one to two minutes after take off.  The terrain was rising, and we were not.  Big trees, houses, your father and child on board.  Not such a great experience.

 

I decided to cut the engine and try to "land" in the tree tops.  We started impacting trees at 55 mph.  We ended up in a mud pond, upside down. After falling backwards into the canopy of the forest, the tail was nearly spun completely around.  We missed a house by 50 yards or so.  The six trees we took out landed on top of us.  We did not have shoulder harnesses.

 

We were very fortunate to be able to extricate ourselves out of the door that popped open upon final impact.  We were doubly fortunate that our injuries were lacerations, bruises and whiplash. 

 

I can tell you that being covered in mud in that emergency room after having smashed my head into the glare shield, I thought I should have died.  I was so mortified that something I did, or didn't do, as a pilot caused this.  Falling into the darkness not knowing if your child was going to die or your father was the worst.  The rumors flew.  It was hot [it was not], I was heavy [i was not], I could have turned around [i would have stalled/spun].

 

Getting in an airplane again left seat took place a week later with my instructor.  I have to say it was terrifying.  I also have to say it was my best landing ever in a Warrior I was part owner of.

 

If you want to talk about fear of flying, or thinking that the last flight might be your last,  I doubt if you can think of something I haven't tortured myself with. 

 

I now have about 900 more hours than I did on that August day.  I got counseling, my husband helps me and  I have to remember no one is in that pond.  As others have said, we have a risky hobby.  We all mitigate that risk through planning, continued training, and consultation with those more knowledgeable.  I always say that a Mooney is the only plane I will own. Now you know why.  She protected us all the way to the ground.

 

I can certainly understand if you are questioning a flight or whether something bad might happen to you.  The truth is, that we are in one of the safest planes, if not the safest ever built.  We need to use good judgement and lessen risk.  I told my Dad the night of the crash that I felt like a failure and that I had failed him.  he said the only failure would be if I didn't fly again.

 

[aviatoreb]

Indiana University Hospital

1710 North Senate Blvd.

Indianapolis. IN 46202

 

Room 4202

 

No flowers, candy of other goodies. Only stuffed animals. Doctor is with him now.

 

Prayers are helping.

 

Ecclesiastes 1:2

Teacher: Life is fleeting, like a passing mist. It is like trying to catch hold of a breath; All vanishes like a vapor; everything is a great vanity.

 

Fantom - or anyone else - Jolie maybe?

 

I tried to have a stuffed animal sent to Mike - a copilot bear actually - but the company I ordered from just now phoned me and told me that the address that you cited Fantom does not exist.  Does anyone have the correct mailing address for this hospital please?

 

Erik

[mooneygirl]

The website says 1701 not 1710 like Alice told me.  So maybe that is the problem.

 

[aaronk25]

Obituary:

http://swartzfh.frontrunnerpro.com/book-of-memories/1907514/Gilliland-William/obituary.php

[bonal]

Marauder posted a pic of the location where their plane went down and by the look of it is one of those locations that provides no good options for a forced landing houses and buildings every where. I'm sure he did his very best very glad to hear of Mikes recovery I don't know them but From all I have read here I'm sure they are both of Stellar character. My wife and I took to the sky today even though I flew with a somewhat heavy heart it was good to be in the sky today as I thought of our fallen friend. Made three of the best landings I have in a long time so perhaps Bill was watching over us as we flew today. The comments hear have been very uplifting and I thank you all for them. Please keep us posted.