Our little Mooney Ovation was what I called a “nose print” airplane. It seemed like anytime I left it parked on the ramp for more than a few minutes there would be nose prints left by curious onlookers. Jealous pilots were dying to have a look at the inside of an aircraft so awesomely cool on the outside.
I don’t remember having anything you would call cool while I was growing up. No cool cars. No cool clothes. Just your average clarinet playing geek of the week. But N95MK was cool all the way through.
Those days are gone now that the FAA has proved themselves without a sense of humor. Apparently they don’t think Captain Shaky should be flying a high performance airplane.
I guess Parkinson’s will do that.
But I am thinking of a day when the dispatcher at Angel Flight called and arranged for us to meet another Angel Flight pilot in Dallas for a patient hand-off. Angel Flight is a volunteer organization that arranges transportation via private aircraft for individuals who need transportation to medical appointments.
The planes, pilots, and all flight related expenses are donated by the pilots. Angel flights often originate from small towns without commercial aviation service. Or Angel Flight pilots might be called upon when air travel was required on short notice.
And so it was that an Angel flight dispatcher was ringing our phone to find out if N95MK was available to accept a patient hand-off in Dallas for a flight to Houston. “Yes M’am. We can be wheels up in Kerrville in thirty minutes. We’ll have your folks in Houston before noon. Tell me about them.”
The patient was a boy bout the same age as was our grandson. We were to take him for cleft pallet surgery.
A skilled surgical team had been assembled and it would be up to my wife and me and the plane we affectionately called little girl to deliver the patient.
Little Girl made short work of the miles to Dallas. Her autopilot picked up the scent of the Cedar Hill arrival and followed the vectors to runway 1-5 in Addison. Little girl settled onto the mains and taxied smartly to the ramp at MillionAir, picking her way through the light Saturday line-up of much larger corporate aircraft waiting patiently for executives who had run out of workdays before they ran out of work.
N95MK was the smallest aircraft on the ramp. Not nearly as cool as the multi-million dollar corporate birds. I felt just a tad out-classed.
Our passenger and his mom were kind enough to tolerate my Spanish rendition of pre-flight passenger safety instructions. They spoke little English. I spoke even less Spanish. Like I did with every passenger I demonstrated the operation of the cargo door, explained emergency evacuation procedures, and the importance of keeping conversation to a minimum during the early stages of our flight. We always welcomed our passengers as if they were paying customers a habit the corporate jet jockeys watching from across the lobby understood very well.
Because we were flying under a mission call sign…Angel Flight N95MK, the waiting corporate pilots knew exactly why we were in Dallas that chilly early winter morning. When I grabbed the luggage and headed for Little Girl one of the corporate pilots stood to face our little troop. He was spontaneously joined by others in gentle applause. The applause was just enough so as not to embarrass our passengers enough to communicate the thought that given half a chance every pilot in the lobby would have gladly taken the flight.
I miss the freedom and adventure of flying. I miss Little Girl who, parked literally under the wings of the much larger corporate jets suddenly looked awesomely cool!
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