What can I say? Only that I am glad that the full monty was done on the Pawnee in the year of the terrible winter. Report from Petersburg is that the wings are done and that the fuselage is ready to recover. But the snow has shut the airport there as well as the roads here, and it has caused delays in our target date for first flight. So here we sit. In the meantime, a work party (actually several work parties) led by Shane has resulted in the painting of all the little Pawnee odds and ends: things like the ailerons, flaps, tail feathers and canopy. Thanks to Shane's expertise, we will have a good looking Pawnee, whenever we have a Pawnee to look at.

In case you are wondering why we put ourselves through such acts of masochism, I would tell you that this detailed inspection of the Pawnee has revealed several "discrepancies" that could have progressed into real problems. To name a few, two broken aileron hinges, a crimped fuel line and clogged fuel tank vent, frayed control cables, broken and bent ribs, rotted wing tip bows (they are wood), loose bracing in the wings, and broken static system. When this is done, we will have a tow plane that has been inspected from spinner to tow hook.

In the meantime, I have met with Glenn Collins from M-ASA and was told that their three Pawnees are grounded for repairs. Hey, they have four tow planes and can only get one in the air. M-ASA has struggled recently with the aftermath of 9/11, and the subsequent enlargement of P-40, as well as increasing traffic into Dulles. I think Glenn is doing an excellent job of negotiating with the powers of the Fed, but we should all think about helping. It cannot hurt to remind your Congress persons of the value you place on your freedoms, including your freedom to soar. We all need to give M-ASA support for their cause. It's our cause too. In addition, several of the SSC and M-ASA Board members and instructors met recently to discuss areas of collaboration between our clubs. Don't be surprised if we start working together and if we see an occasional M-ASA member on our flight line. All I can add at this point is that I keep telling myself that I have been saving lots of money and driving much less than usual these past few weeks. But deep down, I am just as antsy as the rest of you to get into the air again. So while it seems like an eternity sitting on the ground, remember that we really are trying to start the flying season one more time.
-- George Hazelrigg, Jr

Having just been given the awesome responsibility of being the Safety Officer for our club, I have been scratching my head trying to figure out how I should start my tenure. I don't have any bone rattling ideas which are going to hold you spell bound while I wax poetic about the importance of safety.

I can tell you this however. I know from personal experience that the job of Safety Officer is the most important job in any organization that is involved in hazardous operations. And while we all share in the joy of flying, what we do is in fact, very hazardous. It is a testament to our own individual courage and determination that we dare to defy the odds and prove that we can master difficult challenges. As evidenced most recently by the Columbia tragedy however, things can sometimes go wrong that are so catastrophic that no amount of experience, preparation and training can make a difference. But do not draw the wrong conclusions. That crew was trained and prepared to handle every known emergency condition to a degree that we can hardly imagine and unfortunately, in this case, it was not enough. In all probability, it will be determined that this crew was let down by a complex combination of well meaning but faulty engineering decisions, budgetary constraints, and pressure from numerous sources to accomplish the mission that led to their loss. In short, many smart people took calculated risks to get a job done and we now know the price that was demanded and paid in full. Or maybe someone just didn't notice that hole in the left wing on preflight just prior to liftoff. I don't think we will ever know for sure.

I guess my point is, that in the flying game, no matter at what level you participate, we are all dependent on one another in some form or fashion to complete our mission safely. A bad decision by one person somewhere in the chain can lead to catastrophe for someone else. Think about the people around you who can potentially have an impact on your flight on any given day-you yourself, tow pilots, other pilots, wing runners, duty officers, safety officers, your glider manufacturer, the last owner of your used glider, your wife who you fought with that morning, clueless guests, clueless spectators, Farmer Brown and his Cows of Renown and the list goes on. It is part of the human condition and part of the laws of probability that somewhere, someone may have made a bad decision that will put you or your friends in peril.

We can do a lot to protect ourselves and improve our odds in this dangerous environment. Knowing when not to fly is more important than knowing when the risk is acceptable. Knowledge, training, awareness and teamwork are the keys to success for each and everyone of us. Of the four, awareness and teamwork are the most important as they can sometimes compensate for individual shortcomings in the other two areas. Let's remember that what we do, we do together and our individual contributions are critical factors in determining the level of our success or lack thereof. And what is the measure of our success? Nothing less than a perfect flight each and every time where the number of our takeoffs exactly equals the number of our safe and damage free landings.
-- Stan Pawlowski

Safety Net(work) will be a recurring item in future issues of the newsletter. Stan has volunteered to write this feature drawing on his many years teaching and practicing these vital skills in the sometimes unfriendly skies.

Like Stan, many of our members come to soaring and the Club with expertise in flying on the highest level of the art. I greatly urge you to share that skill often in your publication. All members can and do benefit, on a daily basis, from the advice from those of you have practiced professionally in the most demanding and unforgiving atmosphere.

I invite you to join Stan and share your wisdom with your fellow members...we need it!

-- Phil Jordan

Mark Ballinger who witnessed this accident from the air, provided the following FAA Narrative. Characteristically, it doesn't mention the co-pilot suggesting that the canine wasn't even interviewed or played no CRM role in the crash.

Narrative Type: NTSB PRELIMINARY NARRATIVE (6120.19) On September 29, 2002, about 1615 eastern daylight time, an Aeronca 65-C, N24277, was substantially damaged when it impacted terrain while on a final approach to Front Royal-Warren County Airport (FRR) , Front Royal, Virginia. The certificated private pilot sustained serious injuries. No flight plan was filed for the flight that originated at Deck Airport (9D4), Myerstown, Pennsylvania, about 1400. Visual meteorological conditions prevailed for the personal flight conducted under 14 CFR Part 91.

According to the pilot, he made a left downwind entry into the traffic pattern for runway 09. When the airplane was abeam the runway numbers, he retarded the throttle to idle (about 1,000 rpm), and maintained an approach airspeed of 60 knots. Everything was "normal" as the pilot turned the airplane onto the base leg. However, when he was on final approach, the airplane went into a flat spin. The pilot attempted to recover from the spin by adding full power and opposite aileron, but there was not enough altitude remaining, and the airplane hit the ground.

The pilot also noted that when he applied full throttle, the engine responded "with plenty of power," and that he "must have passed out for awhile in order to have gotten into this situation."

A witness, who was also a private pilot, observed the airplane fly over the airport lower than the traffic pattern altitude. The airplane flew a "normal" left hand traffic pattern, but on final approach, appeared to be "slower than a Cessna 182." Shortly after the airplane was established on final approach, it turned left, flew north, and continued to descend. The left wing and nose of the airplane "dropped", the tail "came up," and the airplane began to spin before it disappeared behind a tree line.

The airplane was examined on October 1, 2002. Examination revealed leading edge impact damage and a chordwise fracture of the right wing. The firewall, lower section of fuselage, and the overhead center section were also damaged. The left wing, empennage, and tail control surfaces were not damaged.

Control cable continuity was established from all flight control surfaces to the cockpit.

The pilot reported a total of approximately 1,000 flight hours, of which, 300 hours were in make and model. He also reported that there were no mechanical deficiencies.

Weather at Winchester Regional Airport (OKV), Winchester, Virginia, about 14 nautical miles to the north, at 1619, included winds from 100 degrees at 3 knots, visibility 10 statute miles, and clear skies.

We're All Students

Like most pilots, after completing my commercial license, my thoughts immediately turned to how I could gain more flight time while still having money to go to school. And like most pilots, my thoughts turned to being a "FAA Certified Flight Instructor" so I could get paid to fly. By the time I got around to taking my check flight in 1973, I had already graduated from college, taught high school biology for a year, and signed up for Navy Aviation Officer Candidate School (AOCS) ILO responding to Army's "offer you can't refuse" to learn to fly helicopters and tour SE Asia. General Aviation flying was strictly forbidden during AOCS and subsequent flight training. But my endorsement was expiring, so as soon as the ink was dry on my commission I headed out on April 19th to Pensacola airport for my CFI check ride.

The FAA examiner, Mr. Joe C Pick, was a ripe old man of 50 something and 215 lbs (which is a scary thing, as I'm now 53 and 215 lbs myself). I arrived at 0900 in the morning. My oral examination went on for hours and hours, delving into every possible topic about flying you could possibly imagine. Despite being an avid flyer well before the Navy took me in, and having just graduated from basic aviation training, I was sweating beads by the time I was told to go preflight the C150. It was almost 1600. I went over the plane with a fine tooth comb, memorized the amount of fuel and oil in the tanks, reviewed the paperwork and even maintenance records, then went back for Mr. Pick (who was no where to be seen for the preflight).

As we started the plane and began to taxi out of the hanger area, I noticed the plane turned left easily, but would hardly turn right. The right rudder only had about 1/3 it's normal travel. I expressed my concern, but the Mr. Pick told me it was normal in this plane and we needed to get going before the weather (1000' and 25 miles) closed in. As we taxied towards the runway, again I could not make a normal right turn. I announced my intention to stop and inspect the aircraft. Mr. Pick told me if I did so, we would have to scrub the flight for the day and reschedule. I responded, "fine, so be it, I'm not flying this airplane like it is". Finally, the he said "don't shut down, I'll hold the brakes while you get out and look". Immediately exiting the aircraft and looking aft, I saw a six inch piece of 2X4 wedged in the top of the rudder. Returning to the cockpit with this object, the Mr. Pick said "Oh! we do that as a gust lock, you must have missed it on preflight".

We taxied out, did some slow flight, steep turns, a few moments under the hood, and 15 minutes later we were back on the deck with my new ticket in hand. Afterwards, I realized my entire check flight had taken place on the ramp, 3 minutes before departure.

Different instructors have different knowledge bases from which to teach, hopefully all meeting a minimum criteria. But in the end, the job of a Flight Instructor is to assessing a student's judgment, keep them safely within the instructor's ability to recover, while allowing the student to expand their experience under the tutelage of an experienced coach. In the end we are all students, just at different stages of our career. Of Webs and Amphibians

We have established a cool channel on the AvantGo network that, once subscribed to, will automatically download the glider-related portions of 14CFR Parts 61 and 91 directly to your Palm or WinCE PDA. He has indicated his willingness to make this service available to anyone.

To use this service, simple direct your browser to http://skylinesoaring.org/PDA/. There you'll find a link to subscribe to the Federal Aviation Regulations, using the commercial AvantGo service. Simply click on that link and follow the directions to subscribe, first to AvantGo, and then to the Federal Aviation Regulations channel.

From then on, every time you hotsync your PDA while the computer is online, it will check for a current version and download it to your PDA. The downloaded version is indexed by part number, and is easy to use.
-- Piet Barber

Everyone has been removed from the MISC list. (that means you).

Everybody who wants to be on the misc list now has to go and subscribe to it; so there is no doubt that everybody has signed-on to be a part of the content.

If you think you can handle the blonde jokes, the French-bashing jokes, as well as the liberal-bashing and Republican-bashing; you'll have to subscribe. From now on, the only person responsible for you being subscribed to the misc list is you.

If you want to be a part of the misc list, (and you haven't already) please send an e-mail to

misc-request@skylinesoaring.org

Or go to the webpage:

http://skylinesoaring.org/mailman/listinfo/misc and follow the web site instructions to sign-up there. The misc mailing list does have an interesting history. Too many offensive e-mails were being sent on the members list, and we got several complaints. So the misc list was created only for those people whose skin was thick enough to withstand the onslaught of a truly disparate set of views (and some just plain gross ramblings). All those thin-skinned and just more discretionary members who didn't want to be flooded out with non-flight relevant stuff were encouraged to stay off the misc list. So, did we get a handful of the hard-core folks signing up for the misc list? No. everyone signed up for it. Guess they just couldn't stand being left out. In the words of Joe Parrish, "go figure."

-- George Hazelrigg, Jr

"After a long winter's hibernation, frog species bestir themselves in March and April, and rising from pond mud and leaf litter, they loudly proclaim their horniness....we pay attention to them only when they're are onstage and operatic."-from Cultivating Delight by Diane Ackerman.

Also by Ms Ackerman, On Extended Wings, a memoir on flying. Both are dynamite reading on snowy days.

Grow Old With Me
By Robert Duncan

Recently I took what was I am sure my last flight as a pilot of a military aircraft. I was a member of an outfit which was eliminated in the defense expenditure cutback, and I have ranked and aged myself out of active reserve duty. I would be less than human if I did not, at this time, look back on my years of flying and try to evaluate the factors which operated to keep me alive, as well as those mistakes which might have killed me.

I felt a resurgence of the impulse to buttonhole the boys and girls just beginning, whether in private or military flying, and say the magic words which will keep their bones intact and send them home each evening a joy to spouse and children.

I can say what I have to say without pride or arrogance because I was a mediocre pilot. I learned slowly-" I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a "natural." My awareness of my limitations, I am sure, is one important factor to which I owe my life. I did not have the skill to toy with chance and stretch my craftsmanship beyond its capabilities. I would not slow roll at less than 5,000 feet because I scooped out at least half the time; nor would I practice spins unless I had so much altitude that the ground seemed as remote as the moon.

There are two kinds of pilots who get hurt: clever ones and poor ones. The clever ones gradually acquire a confidence which may mislead them and tempt them to cross the safety margin once too often. The poor ones are merely incapable. But there is one common attribute which both types possess-they lack imagination. Their thinking is narrow. They fail to consider the possible consequences of a breach of flight discipline or an over extension of their abilities. They assume that all conditions at all times will be normal. They assume that the ground is flat without obstructions, that the old altimeter setting is good enough, that there is no other plane in the air, that the weather will hold, that the obsolete chart is reasonably accurate, that the fuel tank was topped, that the field is open, that the mags will clear in the air.

These are foolhardy assumptions resulting from laziness and wishful thinking. If there is one thing we can be sure of in this journey through the cosmos of this thin-skinned pea of earth, it is that change is constant-nothing is ever the same. It is apparent to me that the human race is invincible. You need only consider the fact that a man who knows he has only one life will offer it to eternity because he is too lazy or too unimaginative to take an extra minute to ask a mechanic how much oil was put in. Courage like that exceeds the tiger's.

I distilled a single rule from the potpourri of experience, a rule which contains just about all there is to flight safety. It is, however, a mere phrase unless we extend it through every flight activity. It is simply, "Never take anything for granted."

There are plenty of things which we are forced to take for granted without adding to the list. We must accept the evidence of our eyes and nose that the liquid in the tank is aviation gas, that the length of the runway is 8,000 feet if Enroute-Supplement says it is, and that the propeller is pitched at the proper angle to pull the plane forward. We lean heavily on the properly trained authorities for vital information, and if they fail us we cannot help it.

But there are those factors which can be checked personally which should never be taken for granted. I learned one lesson fairly early, for the nearness with which I came to killing, not myself but another pilot, had an extremely sobering effect.

I was lined up on the runway's centerline with a student under the hood in the rear cockpit preparing for an instrument takeoff. Another plane was lined up in front for the same purpose. My student was on the brakes ready for full throttle when I gave the order. While I could not see over the nose of my plane, I did observe the wings of the first plane recede and disappear as it started down the runway. After a decent interval I told the student to roll and I stayed on the inter-phone to advise and correct him. He did so, and a few seconds later my guardian angel stepped in.

"Now look, buttonhead," he said to me, "the first plane started rolling and you figure that he is airborne at the end of the runway by now. But you don't see it; you're just taking it for granted."

I popped the hood, took over, hit the Brakes, and throttled back. My aircraft stopped 20 feet short of the number-one plane which had aborted, probably because the student was veering off heading. I would unquestionably have chewed through at least one cockpit if I had continued. I would have had a memory very uncomfortable to live with.

I owe to a certain vice of mine a good bit of credit for the fact that my wife was cheated out of $10,000 of NSLI insurance. I am an experienced thief; I steal the experience of others.

Your own experience is the worst possible teacher, despite the famous dictum. It is much too expensive. I enjoy the nasty habit of appropriating that of other pilots. Every time I read or heard of an accident, I would ask myself, "Do I fly in such a way that it could have happened to me?" If the answer was yes, I did my best to correct my habits. Like a parasite, I stayed alive on the flesh and blood of others, and I admit it without shame. I love the taste of hamburger with catsup and onions, and I love my wife's embrace in front of the fireplace on a fall evening. My imagination is a vivid one. And when I fail to see the other plane in the traffic pattern when the tower informs me it is there, I panic.

No more hamburger? No more kisses? The cold sweat breaks out, the right hand crooks convulsively for the ripcord handle. No more baseball with my boys? The heart beats faster; the blood pressure rises. No more cans of beer on a hot afternoon? The breath comes short and hot. Where in the hell is that other plane? I turn right and left to seek it. I drop first the right wing, then the left. Tower: "Nine zero four, are you having difficulty?" Oh, no, how can the thought of a mid-air collision at a thousand feet suggest difficulty? I make my voice calm. Nobody must know that I am afraid of a mid-air collision. After all, am I not a pilot? "Tower from 904. 1 do not see the number-one plane. What is his position?" Tower: "He is over the end of the runway on final. You are number one to land." "And how did it go today?" Cynthia says as the church key bites into the can of cold brew. "Very nice," I answer. "Do you think it is chilly enough to light the fire?"

I know two pilots whose tragic exit I was able to predict. One was a clever man with an enviable skill and a superb practical and theoretical knowledge of aerodynamics. The other was a wise guy.

I loved Casey, the first one, like a brother. He taught me much about flying, and he was for me Saint-Exupery and Jimmy Doolittle rolled into one. But he couldn't subtract. He didn't know when his units of safety were reduced to a dangerous minimum. His skill was his murderer. He could roll at 200 feet and never scoop out. His aircraft was as his own body. This is a fine thing, but there are possibilities over which your skill has no control. Engine failure is one of these, and engine failure when inverted at 200 feet is a troublesome event. A parachute is useless and your choice of pasture is severely limited, even if you complete your roll. Casey did not complete his and scattered gas, guts and gaskets over 500 feet of ripening com.

I was such a mediocre pilot that I never had the courage to attempt such intrepid maneuvers. I mourned the death of Casey, but my grief didn't help him. He has been long gone and I am here tonight, as I write, watching the scarlet leaves of the maple drift by my window in the moonlight. And yet his craftsmanship far exceeded mine. Marvel said it 300 years ago, "The grave's a fine and private place. But none, I think, do there embrace."

But I love to stunt. You should see my triple sequence: the split-S loop, and Immelman, coming right out on the original heading. I start it at 10,000 feet. I'm very proud of it.

The other pilot I shall call Grant. He was a likeable youth, but he lacked humility. He wore his cap on the side of his head and made sharp turns on a landing. He would argue aerodynamics with pilots who had more hours at night flying that he had altogether. Can you imagine yourself advising Saint-Ex on the best route to Dakar? Grant would have done it. One day I said to him, after a particularly disheartening discussion (I think he was insisting that a plane in the air would weathercock), "Grant, it matters not to me whether I win the argument, but if you fly like you talk, you will kill yourself." He snorted, re-tilted his cap to a more rakish angle and stalked off whistling. "Off we go, ta-ta-ta-tumturn-turn-turn", I had no car, and he picked me up every morning to

One Monday morning, two weeks after my melancholy prediction, he failed to show and I had to hitchhike. No bus. The CO was on the phone when I loped in an hour late. I was nervous and furious; we were flying a very tight schedule. I started babbling when it was apparent that the CO was waiting for somebody at the other end. "That damn Grant didn't pick me up this morning! It ain't my fault." I pounded on the desk. The CO started talking on the phone, and being versatile like Caesar, wrote a note for me on the pad. "Grant was killed yesterday." I had the psychic feeling of inevitability you sometimes get in a poker game when the card you draw is exactly what you expected. Of course, I said to myself, what else could it be? He had his brother, a visiting cadet, in the rear seat when he pulled the wings off the trainer over Biscayne Bay. The only two boys in the family. And what did his mother think, I wondered. And what did his father say?

It is the same as in driving a car, of course. In tonight's paper is a picture of a new car and a boy shattered against a tree on a sharp turn. The speedometer stopped at 110. My wife is a cautious driver-too cautious, I tell her. She misses golden opportunities to pass other vehicles while I fret and fume. You should estimate relative motion better than that, I tell her. But who skidded off the road one evening and messed up our family wheels in a stump-filled ditch? You know who.

I said that Casey didn't know how to subtract. I referred to my formula for safety. According to my ingenious reckoning, safe flight is maintained only when you stay above a certain number of what I call safety units. When you have trouble in an airplane, there are at best a fairly large number of life-saving alternatives. As far as I am concerned, there are more of them in the air than on the highway where an oncoming car on your side of the road, passing on a curve, may reduce your alternatives to almost zero. These units are your treasure, money in the bank, the buffers against chance, fate, bad weather, or even your own infallible judgment...

When the hangar-flying drifts around to hairy stories, be proud that your narrative is too dull to relate. Let nothing happen to you worth telling about. Go thou and grow old and stodgy. Get your excitement emphatically by observing the curdling exploits of Jimmy Stewart and John Wayne on the magic silver screen. Titillate your wife by an impassioned account of how the manager of the airport grill threatened to arrest you when you tried to kick your dime back out of an empty candy dispenser.

Now I am a private pilot only. I look forward to dancing the skies on laughter-silvered wings, to winging to my destination in a safe, straight line far above the twisting hazards of the increasingly expensive highways. There are no toll roads up there in the blue, no billboards on the clouds, no speed traps, no traffic lights. There is only the challenge to my imagination and to my good common sense.

I must finish now. The ashes are glowing in the fireplace. Cynthia has the coffee on and I have marshmallows to roast.

-Courtesy of Mary-Pat Baxter, Flight Safety Officer for the Washington FSDO...

who passed this little jewel along to The Curmudgeon who had the good judgement (as always) to pass it on to Skylines rather than turbo-injecting it into cyber-circles among all the" Why pay full price for Viagra..." and "Congratulations you've won an all paid trip to Cancun...".

Miss Daisy Near P-40 and Other Nice Things

On Sunday, February 2, 2003, three Skyline Soaring members infiltrated the annual M-ASA banquet at the Ceresville Mansion near Frederick, Md. George Hazelrigg, Jim Kellett, and Janice Farr took advantage of a gracious invitation to socialize with our fellow soaring enthusiast from the north. It was also my opportunity to make sure that "Miss Daisy" was being properly treated.

After a delicious dinner, the high point of the evening was the opportunity to learn more about Steve Fossett's High altitude project. The speakers were Einar Enevoldson and Dr. Elizabeth Carter and their talk was titled "Soaring to One Hundred Thousand Feet; Background, Status and 2003 Plans." Mr. Enevoldson spoke first touching on the plane's high altitude flying performance and NASA flight suits before Dr. Carter took over with some riveting weather graphs and cold weather challenges. Many Skyliners are familiar with Fossett's co-pilot but Dr. Carter held my attention as the Perlan's project chief meteorologist. For those wanting to find out more about her company try www.firnspiegel.com

Following their presentation, Mr. Enevoldson and Dr. Carter graciously lingered so many of us could speak with them personally.
-- Janice Farr

In 1935 World War I was over, and Hungary's government was under Communists control. In the small town of Papa a young man named Bela Gogos had just turned eleven years old and, after finishing four years of public school, had entered high school at a Catholic "gymnasium" run by the monks of the order of St. Benedict, a decision that would shape his life forever. A good student, Bela wanted to be an electrical engineer. Like many engineers he was also fascinated by aviation. Prior to 1938, Hungary was denied the right to an Air Force by the WWI Treaty of Trianon and the only form of aviation available was gliding.

Fortunately for Bela, an active glider club in Papa provided openings for a very few high school students; Bela was one of these privileged few. By the time of his high school graduation in 1943 Bela was a disciplined student with outstanding grades, and he was an accomplished glider pilot. Accepted to the Hungarian Air Force Academy Bela entered military training and flight school, graduated in 1944 towards the end of WWII, and became a second lieutenant in the Hungarian Air Force. Not long afterwards both the American and Russian armies converged on Budapest at a fast pace. Unfortunately for Bela, the Russians arrived first. What followed was eleven years of prison camps, torture, solitary confinement, and slave labor in the Soviet Gulag at Inta/Vorkuta, north of the Arctic Circle.

Youth lost in "Red Hell" is Bela's first hand account of this incredible story. His rich descriptions provide a graphic account of the horror of life as a prisoner of the Soviet Empire from his capture in 1945 until his release in 1956. In his autobiography, Bela provides an unparallel historical account of both his role in Hungary's struggle for freedom against the communists, and a view of the social, economical, and political life in Russia-from Beria's slave labor camps through the years of Stalin's reign. Along the way, Bela is survives through his belief in his Christian faith and his love of mankind. He meets and masters the greatest possible challenges to the limits of any man's emotional and physical endurance. He comes to understand the true value of family and friendship. He proves the value of character, leadership, and morale building. And he is sustained by all of these discovers, through the worst hell anyone could possibly imagine.

This story is destined to become a great work of literature for both its historic value and for its compelling human drama, which rivals classics such as the Diary of Anne Frank. No human being can read this book and not be touched to your very soul. And it has a happy ending.
-- Book Review by Dick Otis

• In case this slipped in with your SPAM-There's going to be a tres cool glider regatta at the Kutztown, PA airport May 23-6 (See the Club's events page for contacts). You don't have to be a vintage owner/pilot to enjoy this fun-flying event! Antique cars, railroads, motorcycles; caves; for the significant others, cut-rate shopping malls, Amish country-and for you, auto and winch checkouts from the local FBO! Ever see a glider drop a bomb? It's a typical event at Vintage rallys! (Personal experience note: it's HARD to hit anything you're aiming at!) Come to visit or come to fly your own glider.
  -- Jim Kellett Chair, Classic Division, Vintage Sailplane Association

• Powerful congressman blasts "Pilot Insecurity Rules" Alaska congressman Don Young, chairman of the House Transportation Committee, sent a strong letter to Transportation Security Administration (TSA) chief James M. Loy about the "pilot insecurity" rules. "I am still very concerned that the rights of pilots may be adversely affected if the rule is implemented as currently written," said Young, warning that if the rules weren't changed, "I will have no alternative but to explore a legislative solution to this problem." ... The rules permit the TSA to declare a pilot a security risk based on secret information, forcing the FAA to revoke the pilot's certificate. The only appeal is to the TSA.
  -- AOPA ePilot

• Question:

  When is a soaring club not a soaring club? Answer: When it doesn't have a tow plane. We all love our Pawnee, but she is a single point failure in our club operations. One day loss of tow plane availability represents a significant loss of club revenue. One month must necessarily have a larger impact on the club's financial status. The loss of February as an operating month was must likely overtaken by weather events, however if the weather had been nice, as in previous years, we would have been shut down for lack of a tow plane. We all collectively contributed to the purchase of a new tow plane which would indicate a widespread acknowledgment of this problem. Yes, the money has been paid back, but what the board of directors decided to purchase was another glider. That decision was not a bad decision, as subsequent events proved out, but the situation expressed by the general membership with their pocket books has still not been resolved. I would certainly like to see renewed discussions about a second tow plane, even a less capable one than our beloved Pawnee. So I'm writing this short note to the news letter to see if it will stimulate discussion
  -- Dick Otis

• For a somewhat different perspective (and a little more detail on staff) on the recent changes at SSA headquarters, see Gliding and Motorgliding International webzine at http://www.glidingmagazine.com/ListNewsArticleDtl.asp?id=696

• A New Book by Peter F. Selinger. Rhöaut;n Adler (Rhoen-Eagle)

  The full story of the Alexander Schleicher Company, its sailplanes and their designers during its 75 year history. A comprehensive biography of each designer and a detailed description of each sailplane type including accurate 3-view drawings made from original factory blueprints. Also several accounts of the winners and record setters who flew them. Over 500 illustrations, 92 in full color. In German language.

  If you ever owned or flew a Schleicher sailplane, you would enjoy this book.

  Size 27cm (10.5") wide by 23.5cm (9.25") high. Hardcover. ISBN 3-8301-0437-5 Price: $ 45 each plus $ 4 SH. Check or MO, or it may be picked up here in person.
  -- Jan Scott

• As you all probably know, I am locked up in Houston on the Columbia Accident Investigation Board until further notice. The extreme optimists say 60-90 days. I may escape for a weekend and will dash to FRR if I can, but cannot commit to any towing dates for the moment. I will make up for lost time when I return.

  As for currency, I did successfully fly the motion/visual shuttle simulator from Mach 18 and about 200,000 feet to touchdown. Astronaut Mike Bloomfield talked me through it but he never touched the controls, except for lowering the landing gear and deploying then jettisoning the drag chute. Said "Great Job!" and gave me a handshake, for the thrill of my young life. Over the field at 50,000 feet and one circle to land. Definitely the worst L/D you have ever seen. On balance I would say it is harder to land the Pawnee in squirelly FRR crosswinds.
  -- Steve Wallace

• If anyone suspicious looking comes asking about a glider ride, you can report them to 1-866-GA-SECURE

  http://www.aopa.org/asn/watchindex.shtml

• Before being allowed to fly from Hyde, Potomac, or College Park (the DC3) pilots already have to:

  1) appear for personal interview at Dulles FSDO, all documents and photo ID in hand

  2) take a separate trip to "Reagan" National Airport to get fingerprinted.

  3) authorize a criminal background check and wait an unknown length of time. I've been waiting 3-4 months. There's no assurance of a response after "xx" days. You just'wait. Don't call us (you don't even get a number to call), we'll call you.

  4) on approval, get a PIN and use it when calling FSS to get a discrete transponder code, and you better have it on before you take off or approach the area.

  Now they want to inspect us on departure, and head out to LEE before coming in? Why? To see if our bodies have been invaded by aliens from another planet?

  What if we're flying home from FRR? How are we even supposed to get through the "ADIZ" over to Lee (near Annapolis, a good 20-30 NM from VKX)? This adds at least an hour to the return trip, no matter where you fly in from.

  All I can say is they better be responding to some pretty damn good intelligence, as in I hope to read of an arrest soon. Meanwhile, there are a thousand ways for terrorists to attack us that don't involve airports.

  In Seattle, a story was told to me of Dixy Lee Ray, then governor of Washington. On a flight from Seattle to Spokane along with entourage she was so irritated by a reporter that she warned him he had worn out his welcome, and he laughed and said you wouldn't land in the middle of such a short flight just to put me off the plane, and (story has it) she said calmly, "I wasn't thinking of landing". All the above from:
  -- Judah Milgram

• Try as I might, I've been unable to get CINCHOUSE* interested in coming out to the field. I see a few wives, more girl friends, occasional members and guest, but on the whole entirely too few members of the fairer sex at the field. Perhaps we as a club, need to have some special activities focused at correcting this problem (if indeed you view it as a problem). Something like spouses day? Women fly free day? Help me out here folks!

  * Commander in Chief, House
  -- Dick Otis

• I am now a Private Pilot Glider-I went down to Seminole Lake for a week
  -- David Jobes

• Derek Piggott now has a website: http://www.dpflying.com/

  Check it Out!

• Glide Distance-Half the distance from an airplane to the nearest emergency landing field.