Late morning. You ran some errands while
Carol was working in the kitchen, filled your pillboxes to have a month's worth
on the go, you did your exercises, and also you read Doug's email:
**
**
On 11/20/2012 11:12 PM, Richard Orndorff
wrote:
> Doug, if you can think of anything to
add to show plausibility, please let me
know. Thank you! Dick
Dick, Sounds like flying to me. Good job.
Did they do a walk around inspection of the plane before they got into the
plane? Before you take off you also do a checkout of the controls as well as
checking rpm etc. . . You also take off with flaps down to give you more
lift. After taking off you retract
the flaps and gain speed.
Doug
** **
For
which you and I both thank him. - Amorella
I
will include his points.
Why don't you do that first, then we can
continue. - Amorella
Another
errand run to the grocery, a potato and meatloaf for lunch, dusted the living
room, played with the cat, watched "Revolution" from Monday, updated
and added some iPhone apps, read Newsweek and played more with the cat
all while Carol baked pies for tomorrow - your day, mostly. - Amorella
Mostly,
I am taking a break before finishing Pouch -6. Presently it is like I haven't
begun Pouch yet. I still don't know where it is going. (1638)
You are off frequency, boy. Post. - Amorella
For
two people and a cat the house carries a lot of dust. It is less than an hour
before dusk and with the slightest movement dust particles of the air reflect
light like planets.
You need to do some reflecting on Pyl, young
man. - Amorella
I'm
the shade, Amorella, not the light.
1900
hours. I'm ready to write.
Pyl is thinking about the plane when it was
hit by the bird. Go back and see how that was. - Amorella
**
**
Dusk
around five, brooded Blake when the tip of the left wing lightly tapped an
unseen object. Blake quickly adjusted and settled the flight.
"Was
it a bird?" asked Pyl cautiously.
Dip.Pouch.Ch.1.GMG
**
**
Blake
said later that it was like the plane hit the bird not the bird hit the plane,
it was a tap. He said that is what it felt like, not a hit. When Blake was
talking to Justin in the hanger he said it was probably bled out bird gut. He
didn't see any red just a gray substance. Then when Friendly arrived it was
back to bird remnants. Friendly is clearly in charge, very thorough; I did not
see her make one mistake with the plane until it appeared that she attempt to
push the throttle in and pull it out. What a strange procedure. Then the side
of her finger pushed the toggle up almost like it was accidental. She didn't
fumble with the toggle it was a clear smooth conscious movement to push in and
pull out. Her right thumb and index finger performed the operation like she had
done it a thousand times. It was like her mind and fingers were not fully
connected. It was an unconscious movement, like turning a car key to the right
to start the engine.
Pyl
sat relaxed with eyes closed until she heard the wheels being lowered. She
glanced at her watch, she had lost a minute when she checked with the clock on
the control panel. She pulled out her iPhone, it also had lost about a minute.
"What time do you have Justin?"
"The
same time you do we set our watches at breakfast."
"What
time is that?"
"4:48"
"That's
what I have too, 4:48." The plane said 4:49. I checked when we got off the
plane at Put-in-Bay. The time was the same as my watch and iPhone. She said
little until after the landing and they were walking toward the terminal. She
said with resolution, "Blake I don't want you to sell our father's
plane." 311 words
** **
1937
hours. I just completed this really rough draft. It just rolled out.
Gives you something to work with. Post. -
Amorella
I
hardly remember writing it. I just wrote one word at a time then another, and
then another and so on. I had no idea how it was going to end until it ended.
Too many words.
2247
hours. I have completed Pouch 6 but it is 880 words long I still have to trim
it down over 100 words.
Enough for tonight boy. Drop it in here
anyway and post. We'll work on it tomorrow or Friday. Then we clean up these
three chapters and move on. - Amorella
**
**
Pouch - 6 (draft 2)
After
an efficient walk around the plane and inspection of the controls Friendly
glanced over the instrument and screen rich Cessna Silver Eagle control panel
and pushanpulled the start toggle fumbled then pushed the toggle to the up
position. Embarrassed that Pyl was watching she quickly smiled and commented,
"It's been awhile." Then glanced at her watch and the clock on the
console and thought, we'll be home before dark.
"The
panel is pretty much up to date," replied Pyl calmly. Take your time."
She thought if we go down, it's your plane sister. Pyl found herself taking
closer observation because 'why did this woman push the toggle up then pull?'
"We
all do silly things," said Pyl with a smile. “I love this plane, outside
of me I think this was Dad's favorite thing." She winked, "Isn't that
right, Blakey?"
He
feigned a grumble, "Yeah, Pyl was always the favorite."
"What
about your mother?" asked Hartolite with an undertone of seriousness.
Blakey
leaned to the right, "She's just kidding. It's an old family joke."
Surely this woman could sense the humor in Pyl's voice.
Justin
deadpanned, "Pyl and Blake come from bright creative parents who were a
bit dissimilar."
"Pardon."
"Dissimilar,
you know, diverse."
"Distinct,
is a better word," chuckled Pyl in the front.
"Everyone
has their secrets," replied Hartolite in Justin's deadpan tone. What in
the world are they talking about, she thought, families that are 'dissimilar',
'diverse,' ‘distinct’? Do they mean 'heterogeneous'? Why don't they just say
that? Are they trying to be clever here? Are they suspicious? What did we do to
provoke thinking-in-a-row?
With
the flaps down in the quick quiet moment Friendly revved the engine and
confirmed the rpm status, verified the alternator and voltage and they were
picking up speed while rolling down the runway, a lift of the nose, and with
the flaps set for a slow climb southwest Friendly tapped the brakes to stop the
spin and retracted the wheels. Quickly nearing the Ohio shoreline she continued
the climb while turning the yoke to the left. The Silver Eagle continued a
steady climb with Catawba Island, then the Marblehead lighthouse were below the
right wing and Kelley's Island and greater Lake Erie lay down below the left
wing. The plane continued climbing due east until leveling off at nine thousand
feet with a speed of 140 mph. Friendly felt her body immediately relax.
"We're good to Burke," she said. "Beautiful day, beautiful
scenery, one beauty of a plane."
Pyl
smiled and need not respond. Pyl could sense whatever nervousness there had been
leaving Friendly. The plane and the pilot were as one in the same. Pyl loved
the flying so much that she could enjoy another pilot at the yoke.
The
flight continued, seemingly uneventful, or so Pyl felt, as she had taken a
catnap. Awakening to the drone of the engine she found that Justin and Blake
had fallen asleep too. Pyl let them sleep. She glanced over at Friendly, smiled
and quietly said, "I can tell you are in love with this plane. I am in
love with it too." Pyl closed her eyes in a ruse and let her mind moved
into surreptitious quarters.
Pyl
recollected: this tension began with the bird cracking the left wingtip light.
Blake initially said it felt like the bird lightly tapped the wingtip light. I
asked if it was a bird. Justin said it sounded like a piece of gravel hit the
wingtip. When we inspected the wing at the hanger Blake said the gray remnants
were bird guts but there wasn't any blood mixed in it. The gray matter reminded
me of soot.
Friendly
is clearly in charge. She is very thorough. The only flight mistake she has
made was the attempt to push the toggle switch in and then pull. She didn't
fumble with the toggle to push in and then pull out. It was smoothly done,
almost unconsciously, like she had done it a thousand times before, like I
would turn a car key down to the right to start the engine.
Pyl
adjusted herself in the seat and relaxed with her eyes closed until she heard
the thump of the wheels being lowered. She glanced at her watch and saw the
time was 4:48 then looked at the time on the interment panel, it was 4:49.
That's odd, she thought, we were synchronized when we left Put-in-Bay. She
pulled her iPhone out of her purse; it also showed 4:48. "What time do you
have Justin?" she asked.
"Just
what you have, 4:48. We checked our watches at breakfast."
Pyl
responded, "The plane says it is 4:49."
Blake
said, "I have 4:48 too. Now it's 4:49."
"The
plane says it's now 4:50," noted Pyl.
"I
have 4:50 too," said Friendly.
Hartolite
glanced at her watch that also said it was 4:50 but she lied and said, "I
have 4:49 just like they do. Maybe it is just a fluke of a few seconds."
Polite
chatter ruled during the smooth landing, exiting and a quick inspection of the
plane that was shut down and locked up by Blake. While walking into the Burke Terminal, Ply spoke fully
resolved. She said, "Blake, I don't want you to sell our father's
plane."
880 words
** **
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