Mid-morning and you have been watching another YouTube video on take off only this time it is Pyl and Blake's 1978 Cessna P210N inherited from their father. This is a six passenger (three rows of seats) pressurized single prop aircraft.
Cessna P210N
Panel
Front Seats
2 back rows of seats
This is an important plane to you because you first used it in your first unpublished novel, Anno Dominae. You chose it because it is a pressurized six seater and you had five passengers and the pilot flying through and over the Peruvian Andes Mountains. A trip similar to the one you and Carol took from Cuzco to Lima in a very antiquated DC-3 in 1971. In 1978 when you were writing the book you had a FAA official read over your work for authenticity as to how it would be climbing from the rear seat to the front to pilot and what the characteristics of the plane would be in such a flight (wide circle). The only thing he corrected you on was the placement of the fuel cap when you refueled.
I really read up on the P210N. The one above is a 1978 model so I am familiar with it. I climbed into one at the Dayton Air Show back in 1982. The only small plane I ever flew in though was a Piper back in 1960. Steve G.'s uncle owned one and we flew from his farm southwest of Columbus up over above Westerville and returned to the farm runway. In my self-published Stuck I had a computer flight program and I virtually flew a Cessna (not the 210) from Chicago to Brasilia as it was part of the plot. I did speed up the flight but took off and landed at the designated airports along the way. I had the computerized pedals and yoke to make the piloting more authentic-like. So, even though I am not a pilot I do have some virtual experience. Authenticity where possible has always been very important to me in my writing. It is fun 'reliving' the imaginary experience flying Pyl and Blake's inherited (from their father) P210N. Justin will be sitting in the back. He knows nothing about flying and doesn't care to. Much of the perspective for this short return flight from Detroit City Airport to Burke Lakefront in Cleveland will be Justin's. They will now live in Cleveland in nearby Shaker Heights or Cleveland Heights as I am more familiar with this area. I realize all this preliminary stuff is just me getting my characters psyched, but this is what I do.
Post. - Amorella
1601 hours. I just completed the first half of "Diplomatic Pouch", the human half.
You are doing fine without my help, boy, but I'm here when needed. Drop it in and post. - Amorella
*** ***
Diplomatic Pouch - 1
Pyl Burroughs sat straight and narrow upfront to the left of the pilot, her brother Blake, The second row seat behind Pyl had been taken out allowing thirty-three year old Justin to comfortably sit with sturdy legs stretched in front of the third row of cabin seats. With the engine in idle the three awaited runway departure instructions for take off from Detroit's old city airport to Burke Lakefront in Cleveland. "On the Road Again" had just begun playing in the background with interspersing interruption from the tower.
Pyl turned excitedly, "Jus, what'd you think of the auto show?"
"I liked it. I liked the new Ford Fusion the best."
"I liked it too. Which one did you like best, Blakey."
"Right now, I like the weather best. Sunny and mild, not bad for a third of the way through January."
"Who would have thought we would fly to this year's show back in October," commented Justin.
"Warm winter, so far," added Pyl somberly while thinking, if we ditch in the lake we'll have no ice to land on.
Looking towards his brother-in-law Justin asked, "Isn't this a pretty old plane?"
"Hey, the only thing we didn't add was leather seats. We should have never ordered these to begin with. They are over ten years old and I can't stand them."
Pyl quietly reflected, when this plane was new Daddy had the best leather seats, then said, "Daddy loved this plane, didn't he Blakey?"
Sighing in the upcoming air of redundancy he dryly commented, "Daddy loved this plane, Pyl. Being too kind, he added the roughage, "Dad truly loved this for the business it brought rather than pleasure it gave."
Pyl cracked back, "We took a lot of family trips." She near silently grumbled, "No more kind Blakely, the butt is back."
Justin perked at Pyl's freshly defensive tone. Never-ending squabbles. Never-ending family squabbles between these two. I don't know how their parents put up with it.
Blake talking under breath, noted, "We are a go on 33."
Justin leaned forward adjusting so he could watch the instrument needles fluttering and the worn but solid asphalt runway disappearing beneath the rotating three blade prop.
An hour into their flight Blake and Justin were enjoying the quiet drown of the engine along with the darker blue above and the gray blue waters of Lake Erie thousands of feet below. Dusk around five, fancied Blake when the tip of the left wing lightly tapped something. Blake quickly adjusted and settled the flight.
"Was it a bird?" asked Pyl cautiously.
"Sounded like a new tire kicking up a stone," imagined Justin.
Blake picked up the small binoculars for a quick inspection, "There's a crack near the wing tip light. Damn, I just paid fifteen hundred for those." His puffed lower lip and grumbling demeanor lead to another round of silence through the uneventfully and thus satisfactory landing at Burke an hour before dark.
While Blake visually inspected the landing light held fiberglass wingtip more closely he observed a minute gray spongy substance within the slight crack, it was secondary to the fact that the crack appeared repairable for a lot less money than he had anticipated.
"What is that?"
"I don't know, Justin." Then after a pause, "probably bird gut."
"Squeeze me out some," ordered Pyl. "I'll have it analyzed. I want to see what kind of bird it was."
"What for?" moaned Justin. "Jeez."
"Not much here, but get me something to put it in."
A quiet stranger walked up to the wing and seemingly began inspecting the damage.
Before her brother spoke, Pyl asked politely, "May I help you?"
"I saw you coming in. I am interested in buying an old P210N like this one," commented the otherwise non-committal stranger.
The woman has such an odd dialect, thought Justin. Noting her large dark Mediterranean eyes, he extended his hand and said, "I'm Justin. This is my wife, Pyl and that's her brother on the stool."
***
I have 664 words, and I'm enjoying this, words are very satisfying. We'll see how the second half, the marsupial half, goes.
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